Alone

My final semester at UCONN drew to a close, and with it came waves of relief, knowing I had done all I could and given all I had toward reaching my dream of becoming a doctor over the past five years. As I thought about the prior semester I was so grateful for Dr. Kendall for having taken me in as her own into her lab. Even more, she went on to nominate me for the “Outstanding Academic Women’s Achievement Award”. It felt strange to be nominated for an award, particularly at a school of such great size. I often felt insignificant walking across campus, lost in the crowd of ten thousand students. I certainly never anticipated anyone to take notice, let alone make any sort of fuss. But she had. And that made me feel really special.

I nervously marched myself out of my dorm that Saturday morning wearing my new beige pant suit and matching tan heels. It was my first pant suit. I figured it was a good purchase. I was going to need a nice pant suit for medical school interviews. As I walked, I noted an inner confidence that I hadn’t seen in a while. My face had gone down considerably, as the prednisone had been slowly tapered, and my hair that seemed to have gone into hiding had actually come back. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt pretty. And that made me feel alive again and somehow less alone.

My stomach fluttered and my palms were sweaty as I neared the building. I spotted my parents, waiting outside, their faces glowing. I knew how much today meant to them. We went in to join the others. As excited as I was, I also hated being the center of attention. It unnerved me, causing me to feel I was being watched, feeling I needed to censor all of my words. I was relieved to see there were many tables with many women and their families too. It was a nice banquet with white linen tablecloths and pink flowers, and after a few moments I was able to relax. I grabbed a few danishes and a cup of hot coffee and sat down. As I sat down my dad looked over to me with kind eyes and told me I looked nice today and that if he were younger he “would date me”. I knew in his heart he was only trying to encourage his girl. But I knew in my heart that only reminded me of one thing.

I was alone.

Sure, my dad wanted to date me. But no one else did. I was humiliated. I felt my face flush as self-loathing thoughts flooded my mind. I knew I hadn’t put myself out there in that way. I knew while I was ‘being brave’ away at school that I was still in hiding. I excelled in my studies but hid from the rest. The few girlfriends I had tried to talk me into this guy or that. But none of them seemed worth it. None of them seemed particularly sensitive. Or even nice for that matter. Who would understand me and all that I had endured? I didn’t even understand me. So I stuffed his comment down deep, along with my unwanted feelings of loneliness and put on a nice face for the day.

I could deal with my feelings later.

Two hours after the ceremony, I got into my little white Civic and drove to my MCAT prep class. I had been taking a Kaplan prep class for the MCAT for the past three months. There were too many big books and even more online practice exams. There were flashcards. There were practice sheets. The classes were tough. They didn’t focus on one thing. They focused on everything. Every little thing that I had learned over the past five years. Every physics equation. Every biology term. Every organic chemistry puzzle. Nothing could be forgotten. Nothing could be left out. The periodic table. Newton’s laws. Everyone’s laws. All of it. It overwhelmed me, as I never cared for standardized tests. Sure, I excelled in class when I could hone in on a finite, though usually massive amount of finite, material. But this, this was really going to challenge me.  The class took place in New Haven, CT; and as a result most of the students were from Yale. I tried to imagine going to medical school with them. I noticed myself comparing my clothes and topics of conversation to them. I didn’t wear Dockers, and I don’t think I ever once picked up a New York Times magazine, though it had been recommended. I wasn’t going to be someone I was not just to make my dream a reality. So, once again I threw myself into my studies as best I could. Every class I became more excited. Even though I struggled, particularly with the chemistry and physics problems, I was elated in thinking what the end could mean. What the next few months could hold for me. Where I could end up. How this very exam could help propel me into a future that I had been dreaming about for as long as I could remember.

I tried not to let my practice scores get me down.

I knew God was on my side. Although we hadn’t spoken in some time, I felt we almost had an unspoken agreement.

After everything I had endured, surely this was my retribution.

This was my coming alive.

There just wasn’t any other option.

I didn’t know it at the time. Or maybe I didn’t want to know it at the time.

But that was not how things work.

There would be no bargaining with God. No talking him into my plans with unspoken agreements, however ‘good’ they may be. Proverbs 16:9 says, “A man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.”

More, he certainly didn’t owe me anything. Despite my sickness. Despite my disease. I was not owed by God.

Tim Keller, in his book Walking with God through Pain and Suffering, states that many young people of this generation fall into a particular mindset, where “God owes all but the most villainous people a comfortable life. This premise, however, inevitably leads to bitter disillusionment. Life is hard, brutish, and always feels too short. The presumption of spiritual entitlement dooms its bearers to a life of confusion when things in life inevitably go wrong.”

I didn’t know it then, but I had fallen. Fallen into this trap. And continued to circle my wheel of confusion.

If only I had considered Keller’s words, “While the human race as a whole deserves the broken world it inhabits, nevertheless evil is not distributed in a proportionate, fair way. Bad people do not have worse lives than good people. And of course, the best people often have terrible lives. Job is one example, and Jesus-the ultimate “Job,” the only truly, fully innocent sufferer-is another.”

It wasn’t until much later that I would come to fully understand Matthew 5:45, “The sun shines and the rain falls on both the just and the unjust.”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was going to need to get over some things. Not the least of which was my need for God to make my plans work, proving to myself and the world what I could do despite the many obstacles I had faced.

But it wasn’t about me.

And it was going to be a while down the road before I would come to know what that really meant.