Some of my friends wanted to be astronauts, some cowboys, a few of them dreamt becoming scientists; I’ve always wanted to become a doctor. I’ve dreamt about saving lives, helping someone survive and creating a chance for a better future. And that feeling when you tell your patient’s family that the patient has survived is something that inspired me more than anything else.
I’ve done my best to get to medical school, and when it happened I was out of my mind. Pure happiness, sense of joy and pride filled my chests as I was getting ready for my first day.
And it all started great. I was talented, professors respected me and wanted to hear my opinion, and they also wanted to teach me as they’ve seen me as someone special, with the great chance to succeed.
During my time at high school, I’ve been popular, loved and all of my friends and family thought I’d achieve something amazing.
Straight A’s in my student’s book, support and faith all around me and all that positive energy made me feel I’m on the top of the world.
Getting to the University? The piece of cake! I passed the exam with ease and came to the college as a hometown rising star.
And then the Pathology exam came…
I wasn’t feeling all well that day, but as someone who had never failed the exam, there was no chance to skip it.
I went to the University, and I was feeling better until my turn to speak came. I got up, went to the professor. He asked me a question, I froze and said something odd, which caused him to look at me and tell me – “I think it is enough, see you next time”.
Suddenly, everything collapsed. Not me, I was still on my feet, but everything around me became so irrelevant… I just wanted to escape, to get as far as possible from there.
I was ashamed of me, of myself, of what I have done. So I went to a place I lived as a student, took my things and went home, and never looked back.
As I got to my hometown, my parents were happy to see me. I didn’t know how to tell them, so I’ve said that I’ve done so good they’ve sent me home on a vacation before the next semester starts.
I didn’t want to break their hearts, they don’t deserve it.
It’s been six months, and I work at a retail store. Some of my colleagues called to asked what has happened, and also my University representative called to ask me if everything is all right.
No, it is not all right, as I’ve told him I give up and that I’m not coming back.
I know I’ve probably messed my future up, but I can’t stand the idea of failing, so if I have to choose, my choice is to back up and pretend everything is as good as it can be. And to hope I’ll someday gain enough strength to face that fear of failure.