Yesterday was Match Day for every fourth year medical student in the nation. We attended our ceremony, though thankfully we know where we are headed. What an emotional day! There have been celebrations all week in anticipation of what residency program each candidate would be matched into after four grueling years of medical school. Students and couples spent sleepless nights and countless hours trying to sort out what program they should preference and how it will affect their life.
On Match Day, always the third Thursday in March, their fate lies in a paper envelope. Their name is called, they run/skip/walk/jump down to the podium to receive their future letter. They know their specialty, they know what they ranked, but it is not until this moment that they know exactly where they will be moving in a few short months with an M.D. newly attached to their name. Couples hugged, couples cried, people jumped, people cheered, people were disappointed.
I can't imagine just having found out where we are moving. We are getting ready to close on our house in six weeks. We've done mortgage paperwork, I've job hunted, A's already started his research for his PhD, and we've daydreamed about how we will furnish and decorate the new pad.
It's no wonder these people can diagnose rare diseases, cut into bodies, heal, and cram all of that knowledge into their heads- they survive Match Day.