today, life is hard and i can’t make myself take my polaroids off the wall
on this day last year, i had just moved to a new state to start my journey in medicine. after years and years of hard work, i had finally gotten into medical school. everything felt right on path.
my first memory in the new city - i got off the plane from SFO and everything felt like too much. the heat, the humidity, the sudden sensation of being alone... if someone had taken a snapshot of that polaroid moment, it would have been of a sweaty 25 year old woman trying to keep her glasses from sliding off her nose, long hair angrily tangled between 2 heavy carry-on bags and 2 aching shoulders.
she hobbled over to the luggage carousel, every so often squinting up at the signs to navigate through the notorious maze known as o’hare airport. as she hauled her 2 other full-sized suitcases off the carousel, she felt a bit sorry for herself. she wished she had someone to share the load with. she tripped her way over her suitcases to the airport train stop and smiled at the girl next to her.
polaroid moment - this girl was also 20-something, wearing a black hoodie and smudged mascara. i felt a little guilty about sulking earlier, but also secretly a little pleased - her 6 suitcases definitely beat my 4. she smiled back. i had someone to share the load with.
i made my way to the rental car office in 689*F heat and 500% humidity. in that moment, i could’ve sworn to you that was no exaggeration. i rolled off the lot 20 minutes later in my very first rental car - i had checked my mirrors, wipers, hazard lights, and every car function possible at least 3 times. i resisted the urge to check again and shifted the car into drive.
polaroid moment- i tied my hair back, opened all the windows, and found a tolerable radio station. i caught my eye in the rearview mirror and let myself smile, squeezing the steering wheel a bit tighter. “i’m doing it”, i thought to myself.
from that day onwards, life moved at warp speed.
todays turned into tomorrows, tomorrows turned into exciting new opportunities to learn.
strangers became friends, friends became family.
polite smiles turned into belly-aching laughs with my new family, belly-aching laughter turned into shared tears of frustration.
endless days & nights of studying turned into endless weeks of exams, endless weeks of exams turned into a snapshot GPA
polaroid moment - i sat curled up in a ball, right hand holding my pencil over my histology notes, left hand wiping away frustrated tears. tomorrow’s new beginnings had turned into yesterday’s failures, yesterday’s failures turned into “one day closer to being done with this misery”.
medical school is hard. i didn’t need to go through an entire year of medical school to tell you that. but i did need to go through this past year to realize that i am capable of success in whatever i put my mind to. i failed some exams, but i also aced others. some days it felt like nothing i did was working, and other days it felt like i was born to be a doctor. i experienced my highest of highs, and the lowest of lows in the past year. each and every day made me infinitely stronger and taught me more about myself.
as im looking at my wall of polaroids right now, - it was a slow, simmering, collection of moments.
it was the day i paid my deposit to attend medical school and pushed aside that nagging thought - “is this really what i want?”. i had worked too hard and too long to ask such silly questions now.
it was the day i found out i failed 2 histology exams in a row and was told by someone i thought was a trusted mentor - “i don’t know how to help you, maybe this isn’t for you”. and i fought angry tears and used that as fuel to prove it to myself - if i wanted it bad enough, i could have it.
it wasn’t just the bad days, though. it was months later, after working way past the point of exhaustion, that i earned everything i thought i wanted. it was the day i looked at my exam score portal and saw a list of grades - all As. i thought it would make me smile, but it didn’t.
it was the day i treated 4 gujarati-speaking diabetes patients at a free clinic in the city - patients that no other providers in clinic could communicate with. “you’re a gift from god”, one of them said, “may god bless you with the strength to never stop fighting for us”. i walked away in tears - unsure how to process such heavy words, but also feeling immense guilt that i ever questioned whether i was on the right path. these people needed me, how could i ever stray from this path?
one day, i slung my backpack over one shoulder and ran downstairs to my car, ready to drive to my favorite study cafe. somewhere along the road, i decided i would get a haircut first - it was time for a change. my hairdresser asked what i do - it took me longer than usual to respond with “im a student”. i tried to avoid sharing that i was a medical student - it led to too many questions that i didnt have the answers to. i looked in the mirror, she’d done a great job. my hair was short, lost almost 6 inches. i paid and got back in my car.
polaroid moment - i called someone i can only describe as my guardian angel sent from the heavens above. she has been my saving grace and a true sister to me during my time in medical school. my car visor mirror was still open, i was musing over my new haircut and picking little hairs off my blue fleece - it felt a lot lighter than before. she picked up and i asked “can i come over?”. i hung up and burst into tears. not the frustrated cries of exam stress or of some other temporary problem to be solved, but a heartbreaking sadness that had been building for far, far longer than i had realized.
i opened the door to her apartment, and i cried my heart out for hours on her couch. she talked me through my thoughts, helped me make sense of them. truth is, i had known for quite a while that i wouldn’t be returning to medical school the following year - for personal and professional reasons i won’t address here. but telling someone meant it was real - it wasn’t just a scary, secret thought in my head anymore. we sat there talking, crying, laughing, and sharing our lives with each other for hours that evening. we desperately needed to study for our exam in less than 72 hours, but in that moment, we just needed to pour our hearts out.
i finished up the quarter strong - earned the best scores of my medical school career during those final weeks of exams. i went home, discussed my decision with my loved ones, and with their blessings & support, submitted my official request for a leave of absence. i have felt a sense of peace and contentment over the past 2 months of summer - i have grown in so many aspects of life and matured as a human being.
now, im back in my medical school apartment. one year ago i moved in, and this week, i am moving back out. i have packed up my clothes, sold my bed and my desk, and prepared my car to be shipped over to california. i did all of this with a smile on my face and a clinical efficiency.
but today, i looked at my wall of polaroid pictures. and i stopped.
polaroid moment - my arm is stuck at the command hook that holds my photo frame of polaroids on the wall. my eyes are full of tears and i can’t move. i read the note my mom wrote me when she visited for my white coat ceremony - “i am so proud of you”. i see the goofy pictures my sweet love and i took during our cherished weekends together in this apartment. i see my life hanging on a command hook.
these polaroids aren’t just snippets of a time and place. to me, they’re not the still captures they might be to everyone else. to me, they’re my love story, my academic success story, my first chapter of my professional life story, they’re…my stories. they’re a part of me. to take them down off the wall feels like a betrayal to everything that led to that moment i so lovingly captured. to pack them into a box feels like a betrayal to the immense joys, the deep sadness, and the boundless love that shaped me over the past year.
the sensible part of me knows this is not true. nothing can take these memories & stories away from me. right now, though, taking this wall of polaroids down feels like a goodbye. it’s a goodbye that feels extra painful because at this moment, it’s symbolic of everything i’ve put into this journey. years of hard work and dedication, years of knowing exactly what i want to accomplish, and years of working towards a singular goal. i’m ready for this next step in my life, but i can’t help but keep wanting “just one more minute” of looking at these happy snippets of my life.
but that was exactly the point of writing this all down - to remind myself that these polaroids aren’t just “happy snippets”. they’re an entire narrative, a collection of moments that led to a smile or a laugh that i happened to capture. in between each of these polaroids, there were entire chapters of life that have passed by, and have continued to pass by.
life will go on, and i will continue to capture these polaroid moments. taking down this wall of polaroids isn’t “the end”, but more so an “onto the next chapter”.
so with that, i will see you at the next chapter.