Regrets

For this three day weekend, I'm going to ramble to this prompt: Do I have any regrets about the decision to attend medical school?

There are some interesting aspects about my personality. I rarely regret things; for some reason, I just don't get that feeling very much. In some ways it's rational (you can't change the past, so it's an unproductive emotion), but that's not sufficient to explain everything since rarely are emotions reined by reason. In any case, I seldom think about decisions and wished I had chosen otherwise (despite my obsession with free will). Yet I spend an inordinate amount of time reflecting on things I do, which may be an odd complement to the lack of regret.

Do I have regrets about medical school? In broad strokes, no; I'm fairly certain I'd choose to retrace my steps given the opportunity to consider alternatives. But I think of other things I could have done and where I would be in those cases. I did not realize this when I entered, but medical school involves a significant sacrifice on the part of the student. We make a substantial investment of time and energy to acquire the skills of the trade; while we are in school, we give up the luxury of time, geographic mobility, youth, outside interests. Like cells, as we become more and more differentiated, we pick up exciting CD markers but lose others.

The first of these that I can remember is orchestra. I love playing the viola. I was in an orchestra ever since the fourth grade. I wrote college essays about music, I traveled to play concerts, I really felt it was an integral part of my life. But as a college sophomore, I found myself at a branch point where I felt I couldn't keep doing everything I wanted. Perhaps regretfully yet probably prudently, I gave up orchestra to focus on other studies. Now, looking back on my atrophied skills (I used to be able to transpose alto to treble with ease, now I don't think I can do it), there is some degree of remorse.

What I've realized recently is that my friends who have liberated themselves from academic obligations have found themselves embowered with the enviable chance to explore new avenues of learning, enjoyment, talent. I wish I were in the same position. True, such wonders are not outside my grasp, and I've been growing in many aspects outside of curricular teaching, but I find myself reading fewer non-medical books, writing less, thinking less about issues of philosophical and practical importance. After all, I had to wait for a three day weekend after an exam to beginning exploring these thoughts on this blog.

Indeed, some of my friends have put together this email chat-list called "Keisaku" (Zen Buddhism; a flat wooden stick used during periods of meditation to remedy sleepiness or lapses of concentration) where we send out random thoughts and ideas to stimulate discussion of interesting topics. We've talked about the feasibility of co-operative kitchens in cities, what consciousness means, how to improve internet chatting, nutrition, online gaming communities, deep sea creatures...it's ridiculous and lovely. How surprising, all the things in this world that don't involve chief complaints and stethoscopes.

I think that is one reservation I have about my decision to go to medical school. I would love to learn Argentine tango, write a decent villanelle, have late-night conversations about free will, try photography, practice viola, bake, or read something that doesn't have to do with the USMLE Step 1. Maybe tonight I'll start.