Pregnant as an OMS1

I have been missing for good reason.

We're having a baby!!


Surprise!!






We found out a few days before school started so it has been a complete ride.

Being pregnant and knowing I'll have my first baby in medical school has been very surreal.

Let's get up to date:

• We're having a girl!
• She's due at the end of February.
• First felt the quickening at 16 weeks.

So many emotions and thoughts.  But my main one: Can I do this?


It's been hard.  Doable, but hard.

I've had to get used to medical school and being pregnant all at once while still making sure I make time for myself and my husband.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I was so terrified of what that meant with school.  What my admins and professors would say and think.  I was so scared they would think that I wasn't taking medical school seriously and that I was a wasted spot in the class.  But, I can say without a doubt that I am in the right place.  Everyone has been beyond supportive, kind, and helpful.  Staff, faculty, clinicians, and deans alike have expressed their support and love and I will be forever grateful for their kindness and love.  They are also allowing me to make up my missed school that will happen this summer before second year starts.  And I couldn't be more thankful.



Struggles per trimester:

• First Trimester:
• Pregnancy brain.  This is a thing.  And its also the most inconvenient thing that could ever happen to you in medical school while trying to learn everything under the sun.  I had always thought this was just something people made up.  No- it was the most awful thing.  I went from being able to remember things so easily to struggling to even remember how to to use the washing machine. 
•  Effects it had on real life: I washed my husbands cell phone.  And it died. Rice could not save it. 
• Effects it had on school: My grades struggled.  My retention was nothing.  I survived, but some of the material just didn't stick which will make studying for boards interesting when I get to that information again.
• Food aversions.   I hated most food under the sun.  I'm convinced my baby is made out of crackers and string cheese.  Because this is pretty much all I ate.
• Effects it had on real life: My poor husband had to cook us every single meal because the look of uncooked meat sent me heaving.
• Effects it had on school:  Low energy because I wasn't eating much.
• Exhaustion.  I slept ALOT.  I had to take nap breaks while studying to make it through the next few hours. 
• Effects it had on real life: I was a zombie for most of it.
• Effects it had on school:  I stayed home and ECHOed because there was no physical way I could sit in class all day.  When at school, I would literally takes naps on our patient tables in our practice rooms.
• Nausea. Brushing my teeth.  Made me more nauseous than anything and often made me throw up.  So did water or phlegm.
• Fetal development
• Effects on school life:  I didn't go to cadaver lab.  My school suggested this and was very supportive of this and made every accommodation for me to get the same amount of information.
• Second Trimester:
• Most of my first trimester symptoms carried over through half of second trimester.  
• The second half was better.   Energy picked up a bit. 
• It wasn't as grand as everyone makes it sound.  I did not feel like my non pregnant self still.  Prior to being pregnant I had a ton of energy and could run circles around people all day every day.  Second trimester was just less sucky than the first.
• Third Trimester
• My pants finally got too tight.  Luckily most of my shirts still fit since I've always born bigger tops.  I wear my husbands shirts to work out in and a few of my bottoms are still fitting just fine.  But, I refuse to buy an entire new wardrobe for 3 months of real clothes I can wear to school.
• Things I did buy
• Maternity pants-1 pair of dress slacks, 1 pair of jeans, 1 pair of colored pants that can cross over between casual and business casual
• Scrubs- I just bought men's bottoms and a women's top that is too big.  Maternity styles were wayyy too expensive for what I use them for right now
• Maternity dress- one because it was cute
• Maternity tops- 3.  I got two from a local thrift store and the other one from Motherhood Maternity so I could wear it for our patient encounters.
• Heartburn.  This is real.  I'm convinced I will eat my body weight in tums by the end of my pregnancy.  I carry them around everywhere with me- movies, tests, out to dinner, literally everywhere. 

I think the hardest struggle is finding balance throughout all of this.  School is important, growing a healthy baby is important, my marriage is important, and I'm important.  Trying to nurture all of these has been my biggest goal.

I'm not at the top of my class.  And I'm okay with this.  It took me a while to feel this way.  I was really struggling with this at the end of my first trimester.  I'm so used to doing really well and it was a hard pill to swallow.  This season of my life is difficult and I have to make hard choices when it comes to time management.  Trust me, I would still love to be killing school and hope to work my way back up to it in second year.

But at the end of the day: I'm passing and learning a lot and absolutely loving school (even on the hard days).  My baby is measuring right on schedule, moving like a crazy person, and is even responding to music now (which is my absolute favorite).  My health is great, weight is right on track, all my labs are great, and I'm still lifting 3x a week which helps me feel "normal".  My husband is still the most amazing human I've ever met and has been beyond great to me from cooking, cleaning, love, support, and helping me in absolutely every possible way.

Price of a Dream

This entire process is so expensive.

Most DO schools require $1500-$3000 deposit once accepted per school.

As many of you know this wasn't my first application year either.

I took the MCAT twice= $500

Applied for an mcat prep program scholarship and thankfully enough got it! 

I sent all of my letters of recommendation through Interfolio.  $7 per letter to send, $20 to sign up. ~$70

Transcript requests: I had dual enrollment through HS, went to a university after high school, and transferred to another university half way through.  3 schools x transcripts x 2 years= $100

I was also fortunate enough to qualify for the AACOMAS and AMCAS application fee waivers both years which also saved me hundreds of dollars.  I did apply to a few extra DO programs that were not covered which cost me an additional $400.

First year I interviewed at UNM.  $50 in gas.  $65 in hotel. $30 for food.

First year I didn't get in anywhere so I applied to a medical school in the Caribbean, my interview in California just so happened to coincide with a family vacation  so there was only an additional $20 in gas I had to spend.   I was again fortunate enough to get in and I paid a $1000 deposit there before I had gotten any interviews this past cycle.  I was not going to not have a back up plan again.  C and I were prepared to move to the Caribbean to get this done.  So we also spent$350 to get our passports.

This year I received 3 interviews.

1. Burrell College of Medicine. $65 for hotel. $30 in gas. $30 in food.

2. A.T. Still SOMATIC .

No hotel money- stayed with family. $40 in gas. And family also fed me.

3. University of Arizona Phoenix.

No hotel money- stayed with family and they fed me. 

What was unique is my SOMA interview was Friday and my UofA interview was the following Monday so I just stayed with family over the weekend which saved a ton of traveling money! 

I did not have a professional wardrobe and am still drastically working on it.  I had to buy slacks, shoes, blouses, dresses, jackets, jewelry- the whole nine yards. 

My wardrobe consists of workout clothes, super casual t shirts and tanks, shorts, jeans, and sandals.  Nothing I can wear to school.

Earlier in the week I about had a panic attack because I was going through clothes and had exactly zero shirts suitable for Medical school in July in Arizona.   Ross saved me hundreds of dollars (compared to shopping at somewhere nice like the Loft) and got 6 shirts for $60. 

The past year I have spent about $500 trying to get a wardrobe thrown together.  I have only shopped in clearance and places like Ross to get these clothes.  That includes a suit, pumps, 4 pairs of flats, 5 dresses, 7 pairs of slacks, 6 summer shirts, 10 winter shirts, 3 necklaces, 3 pairs of earrings.  

I still have zero pairs of scrubs I can wear to school.

A Uhaul is $250 before gas.

Application fee for apartment: $190.

Pet deposits and first months rent: $1010.

Electricity set up: $200

Gas set up: $200

Internet: $50

Vaccines before starting: $25 

Bathroom essentials: $50

Then enough money saved to pay bills until loans kick in. $700.

How I paid for this:

Credit cards, saved every dollar I could (even if it was $10 from my tiny work study paycheck), C worked so hard to save money for this dream, asked friends and family to contribute (this was extremely hard for me to do) but I knew I couldn't do it alone.  My whole life I have been surrounded by amazingly kind and generous people and they are the reason we can afford the deposits and move.  I cried with every donation and am getting teary eyed thinking about everyone who helped make this happen.  

In the past 3 years I have spent/will spend roughly $8000 on this process.

$8000!!! How in the world?! I just sat down and added it all up as I wrote this.

I have been working full time since graduation 3 years ago and living pretty frugally.  I could not have done this on my own; so many people donated time and money for this to happen. Family has let us live with them the past year to save as much as possible.  We have both picked up odd jobs on the sides to have a little extra money. 

Ways I could have saved money: just studied my little butt off and taken the mcat once.  Only apply to medical school one year. And not have accepted a seat at the school in the Caribbean I was going to attend. These 3 combined only save $1670.  $1000 to know I had a seat and a viable option for my future was worth it to me.  

The majority of the cost is when you are accepted and moving.  Don't get me wrong, this could have been a lot more expensive if I wouldn't have been selected for the grant that paid for my MCAT prep class, the fee waivers for AACOMAS and AMCAS, or family taking us in, or interviews not happening to be the same weekend in the same town.  So many variables could add to your expenses.

$8000 is a lot of money when you are in undergrad and have no good source of money coming in and you're eating a lot of ramen.   But $8000 for the rest of your life isn't that much money.  It's an investment.  

Adventures in Apartment Hunting

School orientation starts in 2 months and 2 days.  Waaaa!

This past weekend we went hunting for a new place to live.

And it got me so so excited.  We timed the apartment from school and as we're sitting at a stop light C asked me, "Does this make you nervous?"  And it didn't. Not one bit of it made me nervous.  I felt like I had rainbows shooting out of my head I was so ecstatic that this dream is becoming a reality. 

That night as we lay there talking before bed I told him some of my fears about this dream.

I feel like I don't belong.  That this white trash girl with poor grammar and etiquette was mistakenly let into this elite profession and I'm going to embarrass myself so much.

I do have doubts that I'm not smart enough- that my grades and MCAT was some fluke.  But I have to keep reminding myself if I wasn't smart enough I wouldn't have even got an interview let alone a spot in the class of 2020. 

And his words may have been the sweetest thing out of his mouth to date.  He said it with such earnestly that I believe him with every fiber in me.

He said, "The people who have had to fight for everything know how to carry on when it gets tough.  You can do this."

As application season is in progress for the class of 2021, here is your friendly reminder that you can do this too. 

You got this. 

Part 6: Why Medicine

Part 5 Part 4 Part 3 Part 2 Part 1 

Here we are: my actual why medicine reasons that I've used in interviews, conversations, drafts in personal statements, and drafts to practice interview questions.  

So, why so many posts when I wrote about months and years after her death? 

Because grief is real.  And it takes a while to figure it out.  And it shapes you more than you could ever imagine.  And grief lasts much longer than the initial stun of loss.

And it took me a long time to come to terms with everything that death means and entails. 

It means- you have to do things without reassurance from one of the people you trust the most.  You have to stumble through taxes, insurance, and adulting and hope you don't screw up without any supervision.  You have no one to co-sign for you.  You have no one to ask about their pregnancies, deliveries, or ask what they did for their babies because their experience will likely be very similar to yours.  You have to cheer yourself on because Moms not there.  You have to actively seek out a relationship with your brother because there aren't parents to make you come together at holidays.  Mother's Day is forever horrible.  Her birthday is ok.  Christmas and Thanksgiving are kind of hard.  Every time "Kryptonite" or "Bleed American" comes on the radio it is a painful reminder of her singing in the car as loud as she can.  There are no more cards in her handwriting with a cheesy smiley face at the end.  I will never receive a text message telling me good luck, I'm proud of you, or I love you again.   There will come a time when I will no longer remember her voice. There was not a proud, crying mom at my college graduation.  There will be no proud parents at my white coat ceremony, my medical school graduation, or the for the first real job I have.  My kids won't know the most influential person in my life or their grandparents.  There is no one left on the planet that will love me no matter what crime, wrong doing, heartache, bad word, or bad action you may or may not do.  Your friend circle loses a spot.  There's no one to ask questions about the past.  There is no one to give you recipes for your favorite childhood foods.  I will never receive another pair of good luck socks.  Other things in life that used to be life shattering, barely warrant a shoulder shrug these days.  You really can't relate with others your age about their parents coming to visit or call or babysit or care packages; and they can't relate to you either.  When you see an acquaintance and they ask, "oh how's your family doing" you have a split second to decide if you will put them in an uncomfortable situation or just roll with it by saying "good".  There's no one anymore to surprise you with groceries when you're in between pay days and sick of ramen.  No one is coming to your rescue anymore so you have to figure out how to rescue yourself.  There's no one on your side sticking up for you anymore.  

The hardest realization, and I'll say it again, is there is no reassurance anymore.  You just do what you think will work and wish mom was there for her wisdom and try to stay strong when everyone else bombards you with their opinions on your life.

I didn't have her to turn to when things got rough with C and I.  I didn't have her when I still didn't know how to cook.  I didn't have her when I wasn't confident enough to even think about applying to medical school.  I won't have her when weird things start happening to me in pregnancy.  I won't have her to ask advice when those kids are being little shitskees.

You take these things for granted.  And people don't understand.  So they say things to reassure you, but you know they have no idea.  Instead it's like they cut you a little deeper. 

"You'll be fine, I lived across the country from my mom when I had babies."  Yeah, you did.  But I'm sure you were on the phone with your mom more than I will ever be.

"Oh it was just us and the baby."  No, it was never just you and the baby.  You're mom was there during your pregnancy and birth and you both own telephones.

"Well I can't talk to my mom right now so she might as well be dead."  No.  You still know in your heart of hearts there is a chance to talk to her again.  I have no chance. Ever. 

I will never speak to my mom in this lifetime.  Her advice is gone.  Everything I could soak up in 20 years is what I have.  I didn't ask life questions because I was a kid.  And those are the questions that I really needed to ask.

It was completely life altering. 

It took a long time to be "okay".  It also took a lot of time to reflect on myself as a person, my identity, and who I was before and who I am now.

I am a kinder and more compassionate person since her passing.  I had a very hard shell and didn't let people in.  Now it's more of a semi-permeable membrane.  I understand loss, grief, anger.  I understand the sadness that cuts to the bone.  I understand being scared.  I understand your frustrations with the unknown.  I understand the panic.

I'm not afraid to fail.  I basically failed my first MCAT and was denied admittance to medical school my first cycle.  If my mom were still alive, I don't think I would have ever even tried to get into the medical field, yet alone take the MCAT multiple times or applied two years in a row to medical schools.  I was not that strong because I had her love and compassion to fall back on.

It may be stupid, but I feel "YOLO" is a perfectly acceptable answer to the above.  Her passing showed me how precious life is and that we only have one go at it.  I will not be afraid to reach my potential, to fail, to feel love, be myself, or to enjoy life.  I refuse to wait for "one day".  Today is as good a day as any other.  I also refuse to live a life that want for me.  This is my life, my chance at what I want.  I was not put on earth to follow anyone's life plan other than my own.

Her death made me strong.   Maybe resilient is a better word.  Things hurt, but I know how to just keep going now.

When my mom passed, I really had to think of what living a life I could be proud of really meant.  

It came with a lot of tears.

Now, to the point.

Why medicine- 

Because of the countless nights I spent with my mom, there was always a doctor there in the middle of the night trying to get her better.

Because when I had a questions, there was always a doctor trying to answer.

Because of the countless tears I cried, there was a doctor handing me a box of tissues.

Because when the doctor told me my mom had 3-4 days, I placed all of my trust in him.

Because grief does weird things to your life and relationships, you grow into the person you want to be or let it break you, and it grew me into a caretaker.

Because it made me more sensitive and tough all at the same time.  Your doctor can't cry when you're in pain; you should be allowed to handle your pain while the doc does their job.  But that doc should also be able to show compassion.  

Because I want to be a role model to young girls thinking they're not smart enough- you can do this! 

Because I have been on the receiving side of medicine, I want to be on the giving side.  I want to have your answers, lose sleep to help your loved one gets better, to hand you a tissue box when you're at your lowest, and for you to put your trust in my hands.  

Because I could do any job, but taking care of your Heath is my dream.  I want to help you be your best self by helping you get healthier and staying healthy. 

Because I am obsessed with the human body and all the amazing things it does from making a new human to making little glycoproteins for antibodies. 

Because I want all the information and training possible to be this person for you.

Because my mom worked really hard to put me in a position to help others, to help you.

Because life is hard, I refuse to give up, and I refuse to give up on you.

Becaue I know I can.  And I know I'll be really good at being this person for you.  

So many times people have said, "why not a nurse, PA, etc"... My why not--- they are very skilled and educated and also very important and necessary components of healthcare; but they do not have the same level of education and training as a physician.  I want to have every tool possible to help you.  I want to know without a doubt of what it is I will be doing to help you.  I do not want to consult with another provider on every patient if I know what is the best care plan for you.  Sure, there will be plenty times I have to consult with my peers, but I will also be used to consult on others patients.  I want all the knowledge and training possible to provide you the best one on one care I possibly can.  I want the responsibility that being this person entails.  

Why medicine is so much more of a feeling then I could ever accurately put into words.  I want it, but I also feel it.  It sounds cheesy, but it's true.  But it's something every premed needs to be able to do.  You need to be able to clearly identify YOUR reasons.  Everyone's why is different, not everyone's why is heartbreak, and not everyone's reason is the same.  Your why can be simple, it's okay.  Your why can be complex, and that's okay too.  Medical schools receive thousands of applications and personal statements each cycle- make YOU shine.  Whatever your why is, know it and make it shine.  It will get brought up in every single interview.

And guess what?  I talked about my mom in every single interview.  It was emotional.  Some interviewers didn't like it (I could tell by the look on their faces), but others saw my compassion and my why more clearly.  I couldn't hide something/someone that played such a huge roll in my why medicine.  I am very passionate about letting others know- you can do this, it's hard but you can do hard things, everyone is very different so focus on what makes you stick out from all the other great GPAs and extracurricular activities.  My why medicine is what my difference was, and I made sure others knew.  

Know your why medicine- it's why you are dedicating your entire life to taking care of others. If you don't know, dig deep and find your why.

You got this.

Part 5: Why Medicine

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

If you're here, you've read about my mom's death and my grief.  After this post there is one more explaining my why medicine and you will have the full story.  

This new life was turning out pretty okay.

C was now full swing into Spring Football.

He was happy.  And it made me happy.

I would take my backpack and books to the university library every day and do my online homework.  This was my social life.  I didn't care.  It was exactly what I needed.

I needed to heal. And not try to people.


I ran with the dog.  A lot.  I did have a lot of free time.  I wasn't working.  All my classes were online.  There is only so many times you can vacuum your apartment.  And there were only so many hours of Maury and Jerry Springer you could watch.  Which I watched every day while C was at football.  Oh day time TV.

I was pretty routine.

Morning-
Watch the end of the Price is Right and all of Let's Make a deal.
Clean the house.
Go running.


Afternoon-
Library for a few hours.
Maury and Jerry.


Night-
C comes home.
Dinner

Looking back it's hard to imagine my life so mundane and basic.  How did I live like this? I was still obviously in zombie mode.  I don't know if I could have handled a "normal" 21 year old life.

I was some shell of a girl I used to be.  The old me would have ran circles around this new me.  I thought I was doing okay at the time but I obviously wasn't.  I was stuck.

Life was better here than in Flagstaff.  I still didn't fully rely on C because I was too scared to.

In February, I had gone to meet with the English Department chair to discuss my English class I had taken at NAU.  The course I had taken was basically an honor's English class.  It combined 101 & 102 into two classes.  I scored fairly high in my ACT testing so I got placed in the class.  I did not want to have to take 102 when I'd basically done a fast track course in it.

The lady had different opinions.  She didn't talk with me about it or anything.  She said "NO" and that was it.

I marched home angry.  I woke C up and told him I was going running because I was so upset.

Sprints. Because that is how mad I was.

I didn't even get a block away from our house.  The sidewalks where we lived were VERY uneven because they were made in the 1930s.I was sprinting.  Tripped on a sidewalk and did some crazy somersault because when I stopped rolling and sat up I was facing the opposite direction I was originally running in.  My shoulder felt weird.  I reached up to touch it and I had a bone protruding.  Something was definitely wrong.  I couldn't push myself up.  Walking hurt.  I definitely couldn't hold the dog's leash.

Luckily, our dog has always just loved my guts so I didn't need to hold the leash.  I let it drag behind him as he followed me home.  I remember breathing in deeply and slowly trying to just concentrate on breathing and not panicking.  I walked up the stairs and woke C up again.  I told him "I fell, something is wrong.  I need to go to the hospital now."
No tears.  The only thing I cried about anymore was my mom.  Pain from anything other than that wasn't true pain.  I was more worried I wasn't insured.  No family=no family health insurance plan.  Full time college kids with no job=no money for health insurance.  I was so scared I just kept talking about how we were going to afford this hospital bill.

C had to text his coach saying he couldn't make lifting because I was in the hospital.  Great first impression.

I had a third degree shoulder separation.  Great timing.

I loved seeing my X-rays.  I loved the doctors looking at it trying to figure out what to do next.  This is what initially got me looking into the medical field seriously. Great life find.

Unfortunately, with all those exciting thoughts came reality.  I couldn't button my pants, I couldn't wash or brush my hair, I couldn't wash my face or armpits, I couldn't get my arm up high enough to clean a dish.  I now fully relied on C to do the simplest of things.

I cut my hair so C had an easier time washing and brushing it.  He would even straighten it for me if I had to look presentable.  Most days he would put it in a braid for me before he went to class.  He would help me button my pants if I had to wear actual pants that day.  I had to wear his shirts because mine didn't stretch enough to put them on without lifting my arm up.  He even had to shave my armpit which was hilarious to me.

I had to rely on C for basically everything.

We didn't know people very well in town yet; we'd only been there a month.  It was just us.  I needed him.

The physical pain did help snap me back to real life.  Well, snap back to C anyway.  

There was this other, beautiful human now willing to take care of me with everything I needed and he even had a smile on his face.

I was not strong at 21 either.  I had to accidentally get hurt to rely on my husband and learn trust.

Why am I telling you about this shoulder injury?

Because I had to relearn trust.  I didn't trust anyone after my mom died- including my husband of all people.  I was fragile and was in survival mode.  I couldn't handle giving another human that much emotional reign over my life again.

I had to trust C that he would do so many basic things for me.  I felt useless and was embarrassed I was not this strong independent woman I'd like to think of myself as.

I was emotionally broken and now I couldn't even brush my hair.  I felt I was at some weird all time low before my shoulder healed.

This part of the story was important because I believe certain things happen for others things to occur.  I had to get physically hurt to jump start my healing of being emotionally hurt.

The hurt is still there.  It's always there.

The emotional pain doesn't go away of her being gone.

It's like the Hulk- he's always angry.

I'm always sad.

But that's how I cope.  I feel the pain and remember how awesome she was and use that to push forward.


I started living once she stopped.  I began living without care of what others thought.  I understood what it meant to live now.  You have one shot to make the most of this tiny amount of life we have here.

I became more ambitious and driven.  I became more free and less judgmental.  I became more kind and loving.  I became less afraid of failing.  I became less afraid of what others wanted from me or wanted me to do.  I started to really live my life.

I am more me because I no longer have someone reassuring me who I am.
I am more me because of the things she instilled in me when I was young.


My mom's best lessons were of pushing forward.  She always, always, always, said, "If you fall off, dust yourself off and get back up" and "How hard could it be?".

How hard could it be is a saying I literally tell myself daily still because of her.

I'm going to be okay because she instilled that mindset into me.  How hard could this really be?  I'm just in the middle of the hard part of the race.

My heart breaks often. I have faithfully cried at every important holiday, at the end of every race I've ran, or accomplishment because she was not there.

Last spring was the first time I felt "me" again.  I am able to fully let go and laugh and have fun.  My laughter is back.  My joy is back.

I have finally learned to live without my mom.  It took over 4 years.  I was me.  And I was going to be okay.

I wasn't strong enough at 20.

But at 25, I was strong enough to move forward.  Not because the number miraculously changed, but because I changed.

Part 5 was fluff but it was important.  It's not gut wrenching sadness like the others have been.  It was 4 years of mending, surprise meltdowns, crying over my mom in the middle of work for no reason, and keeping my head down trying to just survive.  I didn't just survive, I learned how to thrive.  How to enjoy my friends, husband, sunrises, good food, adventures, and the good in everyone.  

It took me a long time to figure out how to be happy after that much sadness swallowed me up.  That was the hardest part.  You never have to try to be sad, but I had to actively try and choose to be happy every day since she died.  That's the difficult journey.

Everything is different from how it used to be and it's gonna be okay.

Part 2: Why Medicine

For me, "why medicine" was very difficult to summarize into a few sentences to put into my personal statement or reduce for interviews.  I have to sum it up in a few lengthy blog posts at best.

It is a lifetime of feelings and experiences that had to be condensed.  Most importantly it was my view on my mother from healthy to ill that helped shape this part of me.

Read my Part 1: Why Medicine to read my why from the beginning.

My mom had always been beautiful to me.  She hated her thin, wispy, mousy brown/blonde hair that we often dyed blonde and chopped funky and spiky but I liked to play with it because it would do just about everything my hair wouldn't.  She hated her thin nails and would often tell me how jealous she was of mine.  In high school I still wasn't very girly but had wanted my nails nicely painted so I asked her to help me.  In the middle of her drawing some cool design she whipped off the top of her head she said, "You have every body trait I always wanted," and she giggled and kept painting.  She always had fair skin that would sunburn so badly but would never miss out on our sun soaked soccer tournaments.  The latter part of my childhood she was constantly sunburned because of this.  She had these piercing green eyes that always had a little twinkle in them - which I'm pretty sure just showed how mischievous she was, even as a mother she loved a little trouble.  She always had this bone structure that did not resemble mine- her legs and arms were slender but always muscular, my wrist width had been bigger than hers since I was in 3rd grade.  She had cute little feet and the hands of a woman who had worked hard her whole life.  She always made sure she looked her best by applying her makeup, styling her hair, and smelling wonderful.  She would have killed me if I would ever worn a bra strap that stuck out of my shirt.

She did not look like this woman anymore at my reception.  Her hair was still wispy- but thinner and not healthy.  Her nails were worse than ever - thin and full of ridges.  Her fair skin was sickly yellow, had a weird smell, and was terribly oily.  Her eyes just weren't twinkling anymore- it was more of a wince like she was in constant pain.  It looked like her eyes were bulging out and the whites of her eyes were this terrible yellow color.  Her body was now disproportional looking; her arms and legs were nothing but flesh and bones while her abdomen was 4x the normal size and her face was so swollen.  She looked painfully put together.  Her white bra was peaking out of her black dress, she didn't have her makeup just so like she always had, her shoes and jewelry did not match like they always had in the past.  Her feet, hands, and joints were also swollen for how little her limbs had become. The woman at my wedding was a woman who was hanging on with every inch of her being to be there. 

She was obviously very ill but I assumed that she'd just get better.  She wasn't old.  She was only 47.  It hadn't even crossed my mind that she might die.


I wish I would have been strong enough to lean on my mom like a little girl and asked her to do my hair and makeup once last time.  I wish I would have been strong enough to notice this shell of a woman was in trouble.

Everyone was absolutely concerned with my mom's appearance.  She was yellow, not really something people can easily ignore.


I had all sorts of family members coming up to me asking me to beg my mom to go to the hospital.

I already had.

Her response, "I didn't go because I knew if I did go they wouldn't let me out.  And I couldn't miss this."


My family was hovered around each other determining the next best step to care for my mom.


She promised to go as soon as my reception was over in Phoenix, because she knew she wouldn't get adequate care in our dinky hospital.


My mother sat in her seat the entire reception.  Too weak to really do anything else.

I was embarrassed at how weak and sickly my mother was.  That wasn't her.  My mom was a strong, put together, proud woman.  The woman in the chair was sick and weak.

C's family was busy taking pictures and making sure we all got pictures together.

My family not so much.  As they should be- they were more concerned with the terrible shape my mother was in.  I look back at pictures and hardly have any of my family.  I didn't even get one of my mom, brother, and I.  How did this happen?  How did I not get one stupid picture of the people that meant the most to me?

At the end of the night, I grabbed our guest book, kissed my mom, skipped away, and was on our way out to the hotel.

That night I lazily read through the guest book.  I giggled as I thumbed through it.  I came across my mom's comments.  I hadn't recognized the hand-writing.  It wasn't hers.  It looked like some 80 year old woman's handwriting.  I saw the signature smiley face she always wrote on her notes.  This is when I stopped and thought that my mom isn't doing too good.

My mom and brother were staying in the same hotel.  I decided I needed to go check on her even if it was my wedding night.

I walked down the stairs and across the parking lot to the building they were in.  When my brother (who was 15) opened the door I saw my mom.  Curled up in a ball with all the blankets in the hotel room on her as well as a sleeping bag.  Her room had to have been in the high 70's too.  She wasn't okay.

Me-"Are you okay?"
Mom-"I'm fine."
Me-"Mom, it's obvious you are NOT okay.  Go to the hospital."
Mom-"No, the one here isn't good.  I'll be fine."
Me-"Mom, really??"
Mom-"I'm fine." and she curled up in a ball away from me.
I walk over to the other side of the bed.
Me-"Mom, promise me you'll go in the morning?"
Mom-"Fine. I'll go.  Now go enjoy your wedding night."
I told her I loved her and left her room.

We decided we would go on our real honeymoon 6 months later so the day after the wedding we went to Phoenix for a few days for our pre-honeymoon.

My mom was supposed to leave her hotel room the morning after the wedding. 

While in Phoenix I got a call asking why my mom hadn't left the hotel yet.  I was mortified.  C's family owned the hotel and had allowed her to stay for the wedding free of charge.  And she had overstayed her welcome.  Why was my mom still there? 


I called my mom and she said she just felt too sick to drive.  I was embarrassed because it made her look like a moocher to my new family. 

My 15 year old brother ended up driving them to Phoenix.

A few days into our trip my mom called. 

Mom-"Hi sweetie.  The doctors told me whats wrong."
Me-"Oh ya? Well what is it?"
Mom- "They said that my liver isn't functioning well.  And I did it to myself." I could tell she was fighting back tears.
"They said if I get better I might be eligible for a transplant."
Me- "I'm sure you will be get better soon."


I didn't think my mom was this sick.  She couldn't be.  I didn't even believe that she'd need a transplant.  I figured she'd just get better.

I was mad.  I was mad that she was so sick.  I was mad that she had drank herself into it. My only real parent couldn't be sick.  I needed her.  My brother was 15, he needed her.  I couldn't raise my brother.  We needed her.  I disguised my absolute terror with anger.

I wish I were stronger at 20 so I could have processed my panic better.

Part 1: Why Medicine

If you are a pre-med there is one question you need to be able to answer and be able to put it into words; Why medicine?

It's a very personal reason and it's different for everyone.

My answer: My mom.

Before I delve straight into it, I think it's important to get a better view of me; how I got here and why.

This post will serve as part one of a multi part series on my "why medicine".

I started my undergraduate degree in Physical Education and then switched to Secondary Education: Biology when a Department Chair told me I was too smart to just teach PE. I loved biology and thought it would be a good, reliable job.

I was perfectly content with the idea of becoming a teacher.  Content.  Not excited or passionate but content.  This should have been my first clue but my self worth was also lacking and didn't think I was capable of more.

Why I thought this-

I grew up poor in a broken home.  My dad abused drugs and often neglected his family.  My mom worked full time, made it a point to cook dinner every night, make it to all of our games, school functions, and still made individual time for us. My mom had her flaws- she drank.   I can only assume to numb the pain of her own life.  She was an alcoholic but it was never more important than my brother and I.  We were her priority and she always maintained that.

I think most people who have attended college can say it is a time of self reflection, loneliness, and confusion.  I loved college but looking back there were plenty times I felt completely alone.

No one in my family had ever attended college and they were all very proud of me.  I felt like it would let them down if I was to say how hard it was some days.  Especially my mom-- when I talked to her she would always cry tears of joy while she told me how proud of me she was.  How was I going to tell her I was alone a lot and it sucked?  I wasn't.  I was strong and I could suck it up.  And I did and I figured out how to even enjoy it.

I got engaged and married to my high school sweetheart against a lot of people's wishes after my second year of college. But my mom was always my best cheerleader.  She told me she trusted my decision.

Growing up it was a lot of me and her fixing things and doing a lot of manual labor together.  Before we started she would always say, "Well how hard could it be." And this is how I've attacked everything in life.  

How hard could being young, broke, married, and in college be?  I can do this.

I had been a convert to the LDS church for a little over two years.  Everyone was encouraging/telling me how important is was for me to get married in the temple - except my non-LDS family - which was everyone.  I thought I was doing what God wanted me to do when I chose to alienate my entire family on my wedding day.  Many people even congratulated me on my decision to do so.  It was hard.  I wanted my dream wedding and knew that this was not it; but I thought sacrificing for God's wants were commendable and I should always try to follow God's wants.  I was doing the right thing, wasn't I?

It was a few days before our wedding that my mom showed up jaundiced.  Completely yellow.  I asked her why she didn't go to the hospital and she said "I know they wouldn't let me out and I wasn't going to miss this."  And she was right. 

I was angry.

How could she have let this happen to herself?

She was too tired to help me with anything.  How could she do this to me?  I had so much to do.  I was getting married in 3 days.

So I didn't do it.  I was embarrassed because if my mom wasn't going to help me, who would?  So I just let it happen.  Left everything for everyone else to do.  Because if I was going to have to have this traditional Mormon wedding, I just wanted to do the dumb decorations with my mom.


She couldn't get out of her hotel bed because the 3 hour trip had exhausted her.  And I thought she was just being a stink about me getting married at 20.  This was not how she had planned my life and I thought she was using this to get back at me even though she had already said she supported me.  And it embarrassed me.  I wanted my mom to be next to me with her input.

My feelings of my mom being sick clearly show how immature I was.  I'm not proud.  It hurts admitting to the world how selfish and dumb I was when I was young. 


I wish I would have been strong enough to feel compassion toward my mom and how bad she felt.

I wish I were stronger at 20 to have felt her pain more than mine.

About Me

This introductory post will give some insight into my background, who I am, where I'm from, and where I'm going!


I am from a small underserved town in Arizona.  I grew up in a double wide home where we fell below the poverty line and most of my life was raised by a single mother.  None of my family (even cousins and distant relatives) had even been to college.

I went to college to become a P.E. teacher (because I also did not think I was very smart- why I thought this I don't know) at a state university paid for through pell grants and academic scholarships. After the department chair pulled me aside and told me I was much too smart to be a PE teacher I switched to Biology Education.

After the second year of college I married my high school sweetheart and very shortly after my mother and cheerleader also passed away 3 weeks before school was to start back up.  We were supposed to transfer to an out of state university so my husband could play football but I just couldn't move.

After a semester of grieving and recuperating my mind, while still taking 17 credit hours, I decided I was enough put together to move.  We transferred out of state so my husband could accept his football scholarship while I took online classes for a semester. I eventually transferred over to the same university.  Here, my education classes would not transfer because my prior Biology Education classes were too specific to transfer into their "secondary education" program and would require me to start from scratch (even though I was now 3 years deep in education classes).  I cut my losses and switched my major to Cell and Molecular Biology after meeting with the Advisor of this major.  I liked the subject matter better anyway and figured I would figure out what I wanted to do along the way.

At this university I was blessed to serve on the Board of Regents (governing body of the university; in between the Governor and President of the university).  Which allowed me to contribute to the university on a greater level than I knew and learned so much about who I am in the process of things.

I excelled in the small classrooms where I could be myself, ask questions, and have my professors know me personally and academically.

I still doubted how smart I was and struggled to find what the heck I was going to do with my life.  After my moms passing I knew I wanted to do something in healthcare but I was intimidated by it.  You have to be smart, and girls where I am from just don't do things like that.

I wanted more than nursing; I didn't want to be told what to do all the time and not being able to make decisions.  I thought maybe a Physician's Assistant would be my calling.  The deeper I got into shadowing I knew it wasn't for me; I still wasn't the boss and was still basically not making final decisions.  At this point I had already graduated with my Bachelors of Science but C was still finishing his degree and his football career so I had time to play with.

I was able to shadow more and do more networking.  I made the decision and began studying for my MCAT about 5 months after graduation even though I had not taken Physics yet.  And had missed the deadline to take it for that year so would have to wait another year to take it.

My first round of the MCAT was horrible.  I studied so hard by myself for months for nothing.
I was so discouraged and thought maybe this was a mistake and I really wasn't smart enough.  I pushed passed that and was lucky enough that my university was to hold a MCAT prep course that summer.  You had to apply, write letters, get letters of recommendation, the whole 9 yards.  I got in!  I had teachers, tools, and tips to do better.  I took my MCAT at the end of the summer and disregarded everyones advice to not apply that cycle as it would already be a few months into it.  That MCAT was not stellar either- I rocked my Verbal Reasoning, decent Biology, but again horrible Physical Sciences.  It was a very mediocre test score.  But it was ok, mediocre but better than horrible so I submitted my primary applications at the end of September 2014.

I had not shadowed a DO yet because the town I was living in literally only had 1 DO working at the hospital and the hospitals insurance did not cover students shadowing.  The nearest DO was 2 hours away just to shadow.  So I used my MD letters of recommendation for everywhere- regardless if the school was DO or MD.  All of the DO schools I submitted my application to said no because of that fact.

I received one lonely interview in the 2014 cycle.  It was to the University of New Mexico in November.  I was so excited!! The day before I left for my interview I was knee deep in snot with the flu.  I couldn't remember a time I had been more sick.  But I had to go- it was a medical school interview!! This was my shot, my future!!  To this day I couldn't honestly tell you if the interview went good or bad because I had flu brain to an extreme. I checked my email obsessively daily awaiting a decision.  December went by; no answer.  January went by; no answer.  February went by; no answer. March went by; and when I had lost all hope I had received an email.  I was excited and opened it and was eager to read it.  Was I accepted or waitlisted?  I read the first line, "Dear Camille, we regret to inform you." That's all I read before my dreams were shattered and I closed out of the email.  I was with a friend at the time so I fought back the tears.  I had to stay strong because thats what I do.  I texted my husband the news about the email and headed home after a while.

When I got home, the moment my eyes met his I broke down.  I cried hard.  I sat on my husbands lap and cried into his shoulder like a child.  I had only felt this kind of sadness once before in my life and that was when my mom died.

I felt like a failure.  I had let us down.  I wasn't going to medical school- the only thing I had been focused on for months.  All that time studying and not going out with friends because I wanted to keep my good grades- and for what?

I didn't know if I could apply again and be rejected again.  The pain was too real and hurt too bad to willingly put myself through it again.  What if I failed?  But what if I succeeded?

March went.
April went.
May came--- my timehop showed me a picture of me starting my applications the year before.  This snapped me back into it.  What was I doing sitting around being sad?!  This was something I could control!  This was my life!  I certainly have enough to put myself through this again.  I couldn't live with the idea of just quitting because I was sad- that was ridiculous!  My mom wouldn't have let me give up so easy, so why was I giving up so easy on myself?

I shadowed a DO.  Refocused on the schools that were good matches and left off the schools that were bad matches.  Met with my advisor to go over every detail of my application.

Submitted my primary applications the very first day it opened.   I also applied to all of the fee waivers because I had no family and we were a young, broke couple living off of love and dreams and medical school applications do not accept anything other than the US dollar to pay for it.  Thankfully, I was granted full fee waivers to both AMCAS and AACOMAS.

I also applied to a medical school in the Caribbean because I was not going to be caught off guard and having to obsess about back up career plans- i spent hours researching and asking school questions as well as past and present students.

June- I interviewed at the school in the Caribbean and was accepted.  A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders.  Either way this dream of mine was going to come true. Right then and there I almost said, "This is good enough. I'm in. This process is too long and hard to be told no." And almost didn't want to even try with US schools. My husband encouraged me, "Why not? What's left to lose?  You're already in somewhere, if you fill these out you might have an option of where to go to instead."  So I completed ever secondary that came my way.

July-Found out I was pregnant!  What the heck?  In the middle of all of this I was going to be a mom too?  If the US schools didn't work out we were supposed to be moving to the Caribbean in 5 months.  My husband assured me if anyone could do it all I could.  So I pressed on.

August- I interviewed at Burrell College of Osteopathic Medicine (received an acceptance the same day), A.T. Still University School of Osteopathic Medicine in Arizona, and to the University of Arizona in Phoenix.  We were also moving back to Arizona the same weekend as 2 of these interviews.  My husband moved us so I could go interview.  Also I began miscarrying in the middle of all these interviews.

September- Received an acceptance from A.T. Still SOMA!
October-  Received a rejection from University of Arizona in Phoenix.

After all the heartache, tears, long hours studying, countless hours writing secondary, the nervous sweats at interviews;I had a choice to 3 different medical school.

My dreams were coming true.

Self doubt is real.  And I hate that it almost won multiple times.

I doubted that a girl from my upbringing could be a doctor.  But here I come!