once… and the doctors said there was nothing they could do. We told them money was no object, and suddenly, they had all these other treatments. I don’t want to be corrupt. I just want to guide a patient and their family through the options. I want people to trust me, to put their faith in the fact that I know what I’m doing. And I want to live up to that trust.”
It occurs to me then that I’m talking about life, not just becoming a doctor.
I want people to trust me
. My parents and their arranged marriage ideas, Sejal when she tells me my plans need honing, my professors who expect everyone to fail their class… The obstacles are constantly stacked, but I want people to trust in my ability to rise above them. I need them to know I can make decisions for myself.
“That’s noble.” James scratches his chin. “Given the option, do you think you’d do something else?”
I look at him questioningly. Did I not answer his question?
“Medicine sounds like it’s the perfect option for you. You’re a caring person, and you want to be able to guide people through the diagnostic process.”
“So what did you mean by, ‘given the option’?”
“Well, you also said you didn’t know anything else. It didn’t seem like you had much choice.”
“Oh, that…” I think for a second. “The competition in India is really tough. Our parents had to choose their career paths really early. Most of my friends’ parents went into engineering, medicine, business, or law. I guess it’s sort of ingrained. I never bothered to consider anything but those four options.”
“No wonder my Indian TAs always look so amazed when people major in art here.” James says, with mock pensiveness. I can’t help but giggle.
“Well, for Indian immigrants, I’m sure it is bizarre you can do something so creative and sort of risky. Things are changing now though, so who knows?”
“If medicine wasn’t your dream job, what would be?” He leans in slightly, waiting for my answer. He doesn’t pressure me, but I know he cares.
“I’ve never even thought about it. I may have to get back to you on that.”
“Take your time.” He winks. “We’ve got plenty.”
“Is law your dream job?”
“For now. Sometimes, I think it’ll change, but right now, I’m content. Secretly, I always wanted to be in the NBA.”
“Do you play basketball?”
Is there anything this guy can’t do?
“I’m terrible.”
“Are you messing with my head? Are you really, like, Michael Jordan in disguise?” I frown at him disbelievingly.
He shakes his head at the look at on my face. “No, I actually stink. I played in middle school and got cut in high school. So did Michael Jordan, but he could shoot a three-pointer. I play for fun, like pickup games, but football was more my thing.”
“I was beginning to think you were too good for me.” I giggle.
“Funny, I was thinking the same about you.”
“You are sadly mistaken.” I shake my head.
“So are you, so I guess we’re even then.” He has me there, so, I change the subject.
“What made you choose Penn State?”
“I wanted a big school. Somewhere academic but where I could go Greek if I wanted, and have a wide range of connections. And you know, good looking girls.”
I laugh. “Clearly, a high priority. How did that work out for you?”
“I’m sitting with one, aren’t I?” he cheekily responds.
“Thank you,” I reply, bashfully.
“What was your reasoning? If the Indian thing is to be a crazy academic, why aren’t you at Yale or Harvard or something?”
“They didn’t want me,” I tell him cheerfully.
“Oh. I’m sorry. They’re idiots.”
“Really. There’re no hard feelings. I’m perfectly fine being here with people like you.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m a moron?”
“No! I just meant–I’d rather be in a place where people… I just like you. People like you. I like being with people who are like you because you’re smart and fun.”
It occurs to me then that I’m talking about life, not just becoming a doctor.
I want people to trust me
. My parents and their arranged marriage ideas, Sejal when she tells me my plans need honing, my professors who expect everyone to fail their class… The obstacles are constantly stacked, but I want people to trust in my ability to rise above them. I need them to know I can make decisions for myself.
“That’s noble.” James scratches his chin. “Given the option, do you think you’d do something else?”
I look at him questioningly. Did I not answer his question?
“Medicine sounds like it’s the perfect option for you. You’re a caring person, and you want to be able to guide people through the diagnostic process.”
“So what did you mean by, ‘given the option’?”
“Well, you also said you didn’t know anything else. It didn’t seem like you had much choice.”
“Oh, that…” I think for a second. “The competition in India is really tough. Our parents had to choose their career paths really early. Most of my friends’ parents went into engineering, medicine, business, or law. I guess it’s sort of ingrained. I never bothered to consider anything but those four options.”
“No wonder my Indian TAs always look so amazed when people major in art here.” James says, with mock pensiveness. I can’t help but giggle.
“Well, for Indian immigrants, I’m sure it is bizarre you can do something so creative and sort of risky. Things are changing now though, so who knows?”
“If medicine wasn’t your dream job, what would be?” He leans in slightly, waiting for my answer. He doesn’t pressure me, but I know he cares.
“I’ve never even thought about it. I may have to get back to you on that.”
“Take your time.” He winks. “We’ve got plenty.”
“Is law your dream job?”
“For now. Sometimes, I think it’ll change, but right now, I’m content. Secretly, I always wanted to be in the NBA.”
“Do you play basketball?”
Is there anything this guy can’t do?
“I’m terrible.”
“Are you messing with my head? Are you really, like, Michael Jordan in disguise?” I frown at him disbelievingly.
He shakes his head at the look at on my face. “No, I actually stink. I played in middle school and got cut in high school. So did Michael Jordan, but he could shoot a three-pointer. I play for fun, like pickup games, but football was more my thing.”
“I was beginning to think you were too good for me.” I giggle.
“Funny, I was thinking the same about you.”
“You are sadly mistaken.” I shake my head.
“So are you, so I guess we’re even then.” He has me there, so, I change the subject.
“What made you choose Penn State?”
“I wanted a big school. Somewhere academic but where I could go Greek if I wanted, and have a wide range of connections. And you know, good looking girls.”
I laugh. “Clearly, a high priority. How did that work out for you?”
“I’m sitting with one, aren’t I?” he cheekily responds.
“Thank you,” I reply, bashfully.
“What was your reasoning? If the Indian thing is to be a crazy academic, why aren’t you at Yale or Harvard or something?”
“They didn’t want me,” I tell him cheerfully.
“Oh. I’m sorry. They’re idiots.”
“Really. There’re no hard feelings. I’m perfectly fine being here with people like you.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m a moron?”
“No! I just meant–I’d rather be in a place where people… I just like you. People like you. I like being with people who are like you because you’re smart and fun.”
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