In about 40 minutes Justin will know whether he Matched anywhere to do his residency in Emergency Medicine.
That means that all of the schools have chosen their favorite people of everyone they interviewed, but some kids didn't get picked by anyone.
Sounds kinda like that awful moment in school when no one has picked you to play on their team...
The kids that didn't Match anywhere get to Scramble.
That means they have the rest of today and Tuesday to literally scramble around trying to find a residency program in their specialty that still has a spot open and is willing to let them have it.
Seems like making those kids who didn't get picked have to beg each team, "take me! Me! ME! Quick, here's why you should..."
Then on Thursday morning at 10 a.m. all the kids and their best friends or family gather in one room, are handed envelopes, open them and find out where they're going to live for the next 3-7 years, depending on the specialty.
Yeah. That's not nerve wracking at all.
So at this very moment Justin is at a hospital doing his dermatology rotation--only one more to go as a medical student! But really he's watching all the clocks, waiting for the hour to pass and for a chance to get to a computer and check the website and his school e-mail.
I, on the other hand, am lying in bed, watching the minutes tick by and feeling sick in the way teenagers feel when they're waiting by the phone, hoping that special someone will call. At least now I can leave the house though. How did we live before cell phones? Maybe that's why my room used to be so much cleaner. We were all just waiting around for someone to call. Waiting for a phone to ring, or a bird to sing or a.... ...better deal (how does that part of Dr. Seuss's book go? I've read it aloud to students about 35 times over the years).
There's a yoga class at 9 a.m. I should really go to that. It would make a lot of good sense. I still have 25 minutes to get there. Yoga is calming.
I could lie here and continue to obsess over where we are going and also why all my friends with babies have disappeared. It's like there's a black hole that some new mothers fall into and others manage to avoid. Unfortunately, the people I was closest to in San Diego fall into the hole. Humph. Don't they know I'm standing right here, ready to help them?
I guess after enough time passes maybe people feel too funny calling their Person Formerly-Known-As-Close-Friend and resurfacing from the hole. They should know us kid-less humans are still right here where we were before they pushed that kid out and changed their lives forever. We're still right here, waiting for the phone to ring...
Waiting for Godot.
Except I'm going to go and wait at a yoga class, with my phone on silent.
But if a medical student or a not-so-new mom were to call me, I'd listen to their message after class and before the orthodontist appointment.
I'd call back.