Rough path

My confidence was placed on the scale, and alas, it was in the negative. I had endured the pain and shame of repeating a class in medical school, and all I wished desperately was to graduate without delay or denial. My relationship with my original classmates had been compromised due to the fact that I felt less than capable of proceeding with them through the journey and hassle of academics.

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I felt like a fish out of the water. I used to be the life of the class. "MJ," as I was fondly called, was one to spice up the class with funny comments here and there. I had a clique of close friends, those we read together and equally played together. Being detached from them during the 4th year of medical school created a strong barrier between me and others, which was most often unconsciously created.

Two years later, I was faced with the final examinations that would qualify me as a medical doctor or not. I sat in the examination hall with a poor level of confidence, along with the new class I had repeated. There seemed to be a swift transition from being an extrovert to being an introvert. All I wanted and focused on was to pass the final examination and be awarded a bachelor of medicine and surgery. I did what I felt was best while preparing for the examination, but many questions would be asked on paper and even physically to shake the little confidence I mustered.

Despite the level of preparation I put in place for the final medical examination, the questions seemed to be manufactured from oblivion. The instrument of instability lied in the release of results of already written examinations, while another was ongoing. It was as though the school reiterated and exaggerated the shaky position of me having to scale through without a hassle. Seeing the poor grades from the released results made me feel like I was writing the index examinations only for experience sake and not because I would pass.

"These lecturers showed us no mercy while setting the questions. Did we offend them?" Tony (actual name withheld) lamented. He was one of the few friends I had in the new class I was hoping to graduate with.

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I could only smile back at Tony in an attempt to hide my concerns. "Not everyone will fail. I hope to scale through." I wanted to be hopeful, yet I knew my chances were slim. Immediately after my examination, I dashed out to my apartment, which was off campus, and drowned myself in the solitude of a second chance agony, which was a resit examination.

Not long after the week of examinations, I got wind of my results before the official release. It was the first time I cried as a medical student. I was deeply hurt, knowing fully well that I was going to be left behind, probably a second time if I failed the resit examination. And yet again, my performance was below average, and the only chance for redemption was passing the resit examination. I walked through college like a shadow, wanting to avoid people abd questions.

Unfortunately, I failed some courses, and yet again, I was faced with the resit examination, knowing fully well that the implication of failing the courses meant I would not graduate with my initial colleagues. I went back to the drawing board and studied harder than before. I was surprised to receive massive encouragement from my previous colleagues and friends. I was encouraged, and eventually, the scoreboards favored me after the resit examination.