Well, it happened.  I graduated in May.  And with a walk across the stage, the beast that had defined the past four years of my life was over.  The end was relieving, confusing, even anti-climactic, but I didn’t really recognize the effect that my time in medical school had had on my loved ones until my dad told me the following story: The day after my graduation, he was at the gym doing his usual workout when he noticed that he was feeling exceptionally happy.  He thought for a while and then realized that it was because “med school couldn’t hurt you anymore.”

It did hurt me, perhaps because I fought so hard against it or perhaps because that is simply the nature of an undertaking so full of rigor and challenge.  These years held experiences so incredibly positive that I would never want to change them: the privilege, of course, of earning my M.D.; the added time spent with my mom and dad and Bijou, with leisurely weekend days at my childhood home and quick visits we called “puppy fixes” dotted throughout intense periods of study; our wedding and the start of marriage for Tay and me; the rediscovery of and re-engagement with my interest in writing.  These were all tremendous things.  And yet the rest, in fact the bulk of the everyday, is something I’d prefer to move on from and forget.

A few weeks ago, Tay and I took a cruise to celebrate my graduation and our second wedding anniversary.  We traveled up the coast of Maine and Canada, eventually sailing down the St. Lawrence River to Montreal.  Near the end, we stopped in Quebec City, where we had vacationed the summer before med school began.  It is one of our favorite destinations, but in addition to the joy of once again strolling through the city, it was there that I felt a distinct ending.  It was like the two visits – one right before medical school, the other right after – were the ends of purse strings that, when pulled tight, walled off the pouch of time in between.

I am signing off from this blog now.  Medical school is over, and though I will continue to write during residency, I must first give thought to the trickier ethics involved in my new role as physician and decide what form my next endeavor will take.  I thank you for your support, patience, and readership.  I look forward to sharing the next step as it unfolds.

With great love and gratitude,

Rebecca MacDonell-Yilmaz, M.D.