doc w/ Pen

Use row operations to find the multiplicative inverse of the following matrix. 

Those were my instructions from my precalculus review book. Multiplicative? Inverse? Matrix? Say what?

Don’t get me wrong. I really do enjoy math. And I’m pretty good at it: I got through calculus in high school, and even got college credit for it by taking the Advanced Placement exam (I got the highest possible score of 5).

Why the regression to precalculus? Well, I haven’t been in a math class for more than a decade – it was last century, as a matter of fact (1999) – so I’m a little rusty. And I need calculus for physics, which I hope to take next year. So I started with the basics (college algebra) and now am about two-thirds through precalc.

I had no problems with combination functions, rate of decay, or slant asymptopes. (I really do like that word, asymptopes …) But something about matrices just gets me all hung up like an old coiled plastic telephone cord. It’s terribly aggravating.

But even more frustrating than not understanding something right off the bat is not having anyone to help me. I’m on my own. Me and my (McGraw-Hill!) review book. Which, in this weather, seems to be worth more as kindling than as a curriculum. (And no, that’s not ex-employee bitterness. At least, I don’t think so.)

I need a flesh-and-blood teacher. Someone who can see where I’m going wrong and can help me work through it. Books can’t anticipate everyone’s difficulties, meaning they can’t address everyone’s difficulties, either. That’s just how it works.

I will make it through matrices and on to conic sections. And I will make it through conic sections too, and trigonometry, and the chapter on series and sequences. And then I will be done with precalculus and ready for *gulp* calculus (again).

I will make it through not as much because I’m intelligent (although I am, and that definitely helps), but because I am determined and resourceful. I keep trying, even when things are hard. And when something doesn’t make sense, I keep searching for the right teaching/learning method that will make sense to me. If I had a human teacher, that would be much easier. But since I am on my own until this fall, that means searching for a teacher whose name begins with “http” or “www.” Which is better than nothing, but pales in comparison to a real person who can work with me and help me understand what I don’t.

Teachers are invaluable. I am fortunate that along with giving me a solid educational foundation (one that is slowly returning to life), mine taught me to not give up. That’s a lesson you don’t forget.

The power of networking: It’s often not about what you know, but who you know.

Good things do not come to those who wait.

I don’t believe so, anyway. You must plumb the deepest depths, travel every street and avenue. I learned that as a journalist – the stories certainly didn’t come to me; I had to hunt them down like a bloodhound. And I developed a good sense of smell.

It’s coming in handy now. Because unfortunately, as they say, it’s often not what you know, it’s who(m) you know. That’s how you get opportunities – from good stories to good shadowing or volunteer opportunities. And I don’t know many people in medicine. So I’m trying to find some. I’m trying to create educational opportunities for myself. I want to learn. I just need a venue. First, I need someone to believe in me – to trust that I am honest, serious, motivated, trustworthy, reliable. You don’t get that if you cold-call a doctor’s office and ask whether you can shadow one of the physicians. Why would they agree? They wouldn’t know me from, well, Eve.

So where can I connect? The other day it dawned on me: my alma mater. UIUC (University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, for those who don’t know) has an extended network of people from all walks of life (including doctors) who live in the Chicago area. How to contact them … wait, I’m a member of Always Illinois, UIUC’s equivalent of LinkedIn. So I went online and searched for health care practitioners who were willing to offer career advice or opportunities (that’s one of the search filters you can apply), nixed the veterinarians, and was left with three or four MDs in the Chicago region. And we’re talking high profile, well-respected, experienced physicians who have been doing their thing for a good while. I messaged them all, briefly explaining my situation/background and asking whether they had any advice or help to offer a fellow UIUC alum on volunteering or career shadowing in medicine. The way I figure, I have nothing to lose. Even if they all completely ignore my message, I have neither gained nor lost anything. And they all willingly put down on their profiles that they were willing to share career advice, so I’m just taking them up on their offer.

I heard back from one of the alums within an hour. By the next day (today), after looking at my CV, he had offered to meet with me. He gave me his assistant’s e-mail address and told me to set something up.

Go Illini.

When it comes to writing, once I’ve got a plan, I fly. But right now I don’t have any plan. A writing plan for this first blog post, that is. Everything that comes to mind is a cliche (and I refuse to publish anything containing cliches): “Life is full of surprises.” “Things they are a-changing.” “It’s time to move on.” Ugh.

But while my current writing plan may be full of cliches (please forgive me, my journalism mentors), I’m pretty sure that what I’m planning to do with my life is not a cliche.

OK, well maybe it is, in a way. But I’ll bet you a million bucks (ha! another one!) that the path I’m taking there isn’t.

I better stop beating around the bush, for I can’t dodge this bullet forever. (Yes, I will burn in hell for those last two.)

I’m going to medical school.

But not by the traditional route. I’m going via journalism school and jobs as a newspaper reporter, magazine editor, and textbook editor. And then (hopefully starting fall 2010), via a local university’s post baccalaureate pre-medical program, which will prepare me (academically, at least) for *gulp* medical school.

Why?

A few reasons: Because it is time to move on. Because I miss science. Because medicine fascinates me. Because I want to directly help people. Because this has always been my dream. Because a dream deferred sags like a heavy load … or does it explode?

No explosions, please.

But I want to have my cake and eat it too: I want to pursue medicine and to continue writing. Which is one of the reasons I am keeping this blog. I am also doing this to keep an honest record of my experiences. I believe that writing about what happens to me and what I think about it allows me to access a deeper understanding of those experiences. Doing so also can show me where I have been, and the progress I have (hopefully) made. It also can highlight what I need to work on. In short, I believe in the power of reflection. If people read it, great. If not, that’s fine too. (Note: I do welcome comments, so feel free to leave your own thoughts if that strikes your fancy.)

I have heard the journey to and through medical school compared to a marathon. Unlike my sister Sarah, I am no *real* marathon runner (best wishes for Boston!). But I think I am ready for this long race. With the help and support of my husband, family, and friends, I think I can make it. Because I’m in for the long haul.

Runner, take your mark …