I've been trying not to think about the impending Match Day, and for the most part, I'm doing quite well. OTHER people, on the other hand, keep mentioning it, and then I get this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. Actually, it's more like the top of my stomach, because I think my ulcer is back, and I haven't restarted medicine for it yet. So with every mention of Match Day, a little more acid is released, and I feel a little more nauseated.
Tomorrow -- TODAY -- at noon, I'll get an email telling me which way I've gone. Matched or scrambled. If it's scrambled, Student Affairs will page me to get my ass into the office for some counseling and planning of the scramble attack. Like I said, I'm doing pretty well not thinking about it, but other people keep bringing it up.
This morning, I had a dream -- make that a nightmare -- in which I opened my letter on Match Day to find out that I hadn't matched. The process was clearly out of order, since you're supposed to find out on Monday, not Thursday, if you haven't matched, but that's the way nightmares go. I was crying in my nightmare (don't think I won't be crying in real life if this happens!), and I woke up with real tears on my cheeks. I immediately dozed back off, and the nightmare started all over again! This time, I opened my letter to find the name of my #4 program. I was instantly upset, not because it's a bad program (I actually really like it), but because (in my nightmare), I knew Eric would be upset, because it's not in Philadelphia. I woke up from that nightmare with palpitations, too.
To assuage my fears, Eric today looked up the Match statistics from 2008. I've looked at them before, but I always take away the bad message: 6% of people don't match at all (not even via Scramble). There were 7 open Ob/Gyn spots in the country this year after the match. Eric called me to talk about the positives -- 60% of applicants get their first choice, 80% get one of their top three choices, and 90% get one of their top four choices. 94% match anywhere. I countered with my negative statistics, and made him all depressed, also. Oops.
Ulcer's acting up again; time to go to sleep. In 12 hours I'll know IF, but not WHERE. IF is all I'm asking for at this point. Here's hoping for no more nightmares. It's disconcerting to wake up with real tears on your face.
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2 comments:
As they say in Italian... FORZA!! (Strength!) I am praying for you. Update us when you know!
This sounds almost as much fun as playing "The Match Game" from the 70's... "Weird Willie was so weird, he always had a ____ on his face!"
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