A Summer of Transformation

When I'm old, I'll probably remember the summer of 2011 as a major turning point in my life. I began the month of May exhausted after 4 years of university. I had spent an obscene number of my waking moments thinking about, studying for and applying to medical school. It's a grueling process, partly because of the uncertainty of being rejected; what do you do then? Should you spend one, two, or even three more years reapplying? There's immense pressure to compete. For last year's class at McMaster, 3785 students applied and roughly 250 were sent offers of admission, with a final class size of 207.

I never thought that I'd actually make it, and I had little faith in myself as a student. I took the MCAT last summer, but for the first few days only studied a couple of hours per day. My practice test results were terrible. My thought process was: What's the point of studying hard when I won't get in anyways? Then, in early June I had a chance encounter with an old friend from high school at the movie theater, who told me that she studied for the MCAT every day from 9 to 11.

“Yeah, I do about 2 hours too,” I replied.

“No. 9 am to 11 pm,” she laughed.

That was perhaps one of the most important conversations I've had in my academic career. I was frustrated with my poor study habits already, but the conversation made me question myself deeply: why was I pursuing this goal in the first place if I was unwilling to even put in the work necessary to achieve it? I felt a sense of urgency to study. The next day I  took my large stack of review books and studied from 9 am to 7 pm. I would take a break for an hour-long nap in the afternoon followed by lunch. This routine lasted consistently for the next 3 months, with just one day missed for an outing to Wonderland. 

My stack of MCAT books.

My new attitude was to do my best, even if I failed. In the month leading up to the exam, my practice tests were still below the cutoffs. But in the last two weeks I somehow managed to synthesize and absorb the material very efficiently, and I managed to do better on the MCAT than I had ever hoped.

My new attitude of "Try your best, even though you're not going to make it" carried me through a tough final year, long applications and several multiple mini interviews (which uses live actors to challenge applicants with realistic scenarios). In January, I was sitting in my Cell Bio class when a new message came in on my phone: a rejection from Queens for an interview. I felt shaken to my core and went back home. Lying on my bed a couple hours later, I checked my messages. Another email from Queens: Oops, sorry, we accidentally sent you a rejection. No, we'd actually like to invite you for an interview.

Phew! It turned out to be a technical glitch in Queens' computer system that affected hundreds of students and possibly caused a few heart attacks. Then came May 5^th, the day when all the Ontario med schools inform applicants about whether they've been accepted or rejected. I woke up early, refreshed my Hotmail inbox and saw that I was accepted by Queens. Then Wendy Edge, admissions coordinator at McMaster, emailed me shortly thereafter with an offer of admission. I felt a deep sense of relief wash over me and a feeling that the last 4 years of work had been validated in an important way. 

I also felt like the medical profession had swept me up into its arms and planted me firmly on my life's path. I could suddenly envision the next 40 years of my life; not the details, but the general contours. I would study for three years, do my residency and then pick a specialty that suited my interests and skills. After becoming accustomed to uncertainty, this sense of clarity was a welcome change.

After giving my parents a hug, I called my Indian grandparents, who were perhaps more excited than anyone else. My grandmother had made several offerings at the Temple to her Hindu gods so that I would be admitted. Once she heard the news, she walked around her apartment complex an hour away from New Delhi and handed out sweets. I also talked with my "Dadadji" or grandfather on the phone for several minutes. He had grown up in dire poverty, and was naturally very happy.

After achieving this goal, I could finally concentrate on my personal growth more. At times I felt empty; when a certain goal occupies so much of your life, it tends to knock out everything else that is there. Now that the dream was fulfilled, it was replaced by many questions: OK, so I'm going to be a doctor. Who cares? What's the point of any of this? Is this all there is to life?

Those questions inspired me to read “Man's Search for Meaning” by Viktor Frankl, a holocaust survivor, and it's no doubt one of the most important books that I've read. It's about taking responsibility for your own happiness and actively creating meaning in life. I also planned out a summer with ample opportunity for new experiences, new friends, and plenty of self-reflection. A combination of working for the Census, traveling to Colorado and doing the Explore program in Quebec has given me a welcome chance to develop personally. I have a long, long way to go. But with med school less than two weeks away, I feel ready to tackle this new stage of my life.

New friends

A Mini Update from my iPad

Sorry for the lack of updates, Blog, but I've only had sporadic access to the Internet here in Trois Pistoles. Things are going really well here, much better than I had hoped or anticipated. In the past I haven't always felt comfortable being around other people 24/7. I like to have my space and quiet time, which is difficult in a program like this. But I've adjusted well here, and in fact have enjoyed being immersed in constant socializing. I'm also finding my sense of humor again and enjoy cracking jokes with my dinner mates every day.

Things that keep me sane: reading English books, long walks, ping pong and a nap every afternoon. I've really appreciated my Kindle (an ebook reader). There are next to no English books available in rural Quebec, but using my Kindle I can download and read new books at my leisure. Personally I prefer the feel of a real book, but considering that I couldn't haul 12 paperbacks from Hamilton, the Kindle is a great substitute.

My friends, Andrew and Ashley, just announced their engagement. Congrats to them!

And so it begins...

My long journey to the rural town of Trois Pistoles, north of Quebec City, began on Saturday morning when I hopped on a VIA train at Union Station. As I passed the rows of seats, I consciously made an effort to find a slender Asian girl to sit beside - thinking it would be my best chance to fit comfortably in my seat. As it turned out, the girl I sat beside was Angela Chung, an old friend from McMaster!

The journey was 16 hours long, but it passed quickly. I`m very content when I`m in a comfortable place with books, the Internet, and good company. Once I arrived in Trois Pistoles at 2 am, I was escorted to my host family`s house. I was shown into the basement with another guy my age named Frasier. We were given rapid instructions in French about where things were located, and I discovered that my hosts didn`t speak a word of English.

Since then, I`ve come to enjoy my new life in rural Quebec. I wake up at 7:15, head to a small dining hall and then start French classes at 8:30, which go on until 3:30 with a break for lunch. I find this the most difficult part of my time here, as learning a new language in a classroom for hours upon end can feel torturous at times. But I try to keep my mind on my goal of learning French and of course ponder all the fun activities I`ll do for the rest of the day.

My host is Conrad Hudon and his wife, who get paid to lodge students for the Explore Program. Conrad is an avid hunter, and the basement where I sleep doubles as his showroom for his many kills. I counted a total of 45 different animal heads or scalps mounted on the walls - animals like moose, deer, hares, and turkeys. Conrad kills them and has them professionally stuffed and mounted, with a little gold plate proudly announcing the date of the kill. All the furniture in the basement is made out of animals. My bedside lamp and flower pot, both very furry, are made out of the lower part of a moose`s legs. On my bookshelf is a gigantic hornet`s nest.

I find this quite gruesome, but at the same time I appreciate that I`m in a different world. Rural Quebec is far more politically and culturally conservative than Montreal or Paris. In fact, many people proudly wave Quebec`s provincial flag outside ther homes, and I have yet to see a single Canadian flag. There is a strong sense of the Quebecois identity, borne out of decades of political oppression under English Canada.

Despite the political tensions, my host family and the people here have been very welcoming. It`s no surprise, since their economy gets a huge boost from the Explore Program, which sends 250 English Canadians here to learn French every summer, with two different sessions. The rule is that you MUST speak French at all times, or else face expulsion.

I love my free time here, as I can hang out with friends from the program, read a variety of books (in English!), and bicycle through the beautiful town.

Off to the Three Pistols

Dear Blog,

I can honestly say that I haven't felt this relaxed in at least five years. I am at a strange and wonderful phase of transition in my life which will not last long. I wrapped up my Arts & Sciences degree at McMaster less than a month ago, and will be starting medical school at McMaster in late August. This "in between" period involves little pressure and few responsibilities. As a result, I've been able to shape this summer to my liking. First I worked with the Census for 1.5 months, then vacationed in Colorado with my mom, followed by a short First Aid course (required by Mac Med) that ended today.

Now I'm packing my bags for Trois Pistoles, a tiny town in rural Quebec, to complete the "Explore" program organized by the government. The stated goal is to learn French, but my personal goal is to enjoy myself and make new friends. I'm comforted by the fact that I already know my room-mate: Daniel Carens-Nedelsky.

After 5 weeks of Explore, I have a couple weeks before the grind of medical school begins. Mac is unique amongst Ontario medical schools in that it adopts an accelerated, 3 year curriculum. That means that summer vacations are shortened to only 1 week! They also try to model their education on problem based learning, so I should be meeting patients as early as September. In many ways I think that "Mac Med", as it is called, will be a lot like my Arts & Sci program; surrounded by many smart people who are passionate about different interests. Plus, Mac is based on "small group learning", similar to the Inquiry courses of Arts & Sci.

My grandmother, three uncles, parents, and sister are on their way right now to celebrate my birthday, which was on the 27th. So I better go. But I'll be back next week, writing from Trois Pistoles!

A Spirit of Celebration

After the recent legalization of same sex marriage in New York, I asked my father (a paediatrician and counsellor) about his thoughts on young people "coming out of the closet" today. His answer completely took me by surprise.

"Well," my dad said. "I don't think we should view this as having to 'come to terms' with something. They should celebrate this part of themselves and be proud of who they are. Why waste your life living with a sense of shame?"

My father deserves a lot of credit for this embracing attitude. He grew up in a poor, rural town in 1960s India, an extremely homophobic environment (in fact, homosexuality was only "decriminalized" in India last year). Although he initially shared this homophobic attitude, his views quickly liberalized upon coming to Canada. Our neighbours are a lesbian couple lovingly raising three bubbly children. They are generous, friendly and always willing to lend a helping hand. Meeting them and their beautiful family is probably enough to change almost anyone's views.

My dad's surprising answer also made me completely rethink the way our society frames its attitudes toward gays. We're told that it's important to be "tolerant", but that term seems to carry an inherently negative connotation. After all, I "tolerate" Hamilton's long winters and the unpleasant smell from my compost. But I don't just "tolerate" the diversity of cultures and people in Canada. Instead, I celebrate them for their unique and positive contributions to our society. In the same way, we need to inject a new spirit of celebration into our attitudes toward gays and lesbians.

And there's much to celebrate. Many of the greatest poets, authors, and intellectuals in Western history have been gay, such as Sappho, Leonardo da Vinci, Michaelangelo and Virginia Woolf. Not to mention countless contemporary figures like Elton John and Ellen Degeneres. This is no coincidence. At a young age, gay men and women are forced to undergo a profound process of internal questioning and exploration. Their unique formative experiences can devolve into anger and shame, or conversely blossom into a deeper appreciation of the human condition. They may also inspire great artistic expression, such as the timeless writings of British author E.M. Forster.

What's more, gay men are ubiquitous in the art industry and in the design rooms of fashion powerhouses such as Prada, Gucci and Louis Vuitton. They have historically faced a great deal of ridicule and harassment due to the stereotypical notion that their effeminate behaviour makes them "weak" or less worthwhile. And yet there they are: creating, designing and inventing. They deserve to be celebrated for their unique contributions and talents, and for being courageous enough to simply be themselves in the face of society's rigid gender roles.

But of course, not all gay people are in fashion. They are also our doctors, lawyers and teachers; our family members and friends. They've always been an integral part of our society, but only now are we finally beginning to allow them to live and love as they please. And yet we have further to go. We must, as individuals and as a society, move beyond mere tolerance and into a spirit of celebration.

My (Brief) Life as a Shopping Addict

Reflecting back on my time in university, I've realized that one of my greatest vices was impulsively buying expensive gadgets that I really didn't need and then regretting it later. Pressing the "Order now" button online never failed to give me a temporary burst of excitement and pleasure. It was worst during my toughest weeks at school, when "retail therapy" served as a potent coping method.

Back in September, my final and toughest year at McMaster began. Besides dealing with a full courseload and graduate applications, I also had to manage my household and aging dog after my parents left for a month-long trip to India. Once my stress levels peaked, I found myself roaming the Internet for cutting-edge gadgets, and my search eventually ended up with the iPhone 4. I found it enjoyable to imagine that I would someday buy it, and spent hours reading and watching product reviews. Then one day, as I was passing by Future Shop, I stopped, walked in and bought the phone. Somehow my many hours on Apple.com had convinced me that I really needed it. 

Within 3 weeks I bought a second laptop on eBay, a Kindle, wireless laser printer, fancy computer speakers and later an iPad 2. The pattern was always the same: research for a few weeks, make the purchase, enjoy the fleeting pleasure and then find something else to buy. As a result, I was left with a lot of expensive stuff that I simply didn’t need. Instead of feeling happier with my new gadgets, wasting that money stressed me out and I felt constantly pressured to actually use them. The iPhone contract virtually turned me into a bonded labourer, since I was forced to pay $70 to Telus to chat on the phone for 10 to 15 minutes a month. I already had a landline at home which fully sufficed.

Then, to my horror, I lost my iPhone in mid-February and my turnaround began. When I realized that I would never get it back, I felt a tremendous sense of loss. Considering the $650 retail price, that phone represented about 50 solid hours of work for me. I had guarded it like a baby for months, even setting up a system whereby I could track it by satellite in case of a loss (in this case, the phone ended up in an apartment building in East Hamilton, not specific enough for me to be able to recover it). I started asking myself tough questions: Why was this phone so important to me and what value had it added to my life? And what about the second laptop, the Kindle and the iPad 2? Did they improve my life?

For the most part, the answer was “No.” I sold most of my gadgets on Kijiji and recouped some of my money. I then decided to embark on an experiment and live as simply as possible. Instead of stimulating myself with computer games, relentless YouTube and TV, I turned to books and the company of others as my main diversion. I sought to slow my life down by enjoying quiet moments and long walks every day (and not frenetically texting at the same time). After a painful few weeks of withdrawal from constant stimulation, I found that my brain adjusted to a lower level of excitement.

After simplifying my life, I've started to feel significantly healthier and happier. In the face of so many external diversions, it's easy to forget that each one of us has the internal resources to feel contented. It's important to nurture this internal happiness because it can sustain you even when those external stimulants have been taken away. Perhaps pursuing simplicity as a model for life is not for everyone, but as someone who is prone to anxiety, it has been invaluable to my personal sense of well-being. At the same time, I won't be giving up my gadgets all together. I think that if a certain product enhances your ability to be efficient or accomplish your goals, it's probably worth buying. I've come to love my Kindle, because it's opened up a new world of free, classic books to me. And yet I won't be buying the iPhone 5, because it'll just be an expensive ball-and-chain around my ankle.