Dear Medical School,
Goodbye. Even though I’ve learned so much from you, I think it’s best for us to part ways. Really, it’s not you, it’s me. I feel like you can’t give me what I need anymore. What I need is to operate. And prescribe really strong drugs. I want to feel my feet soaking with amniotic fluid, and wake up before the sun comes up every day.
While we were together, I admit it, I met somebody else. He’s strong and kind, and he doesn’t cost $50,000 a year. And he’s a person. Not an abstract institution, an enormous hospital or a really ugly orange classroom without windows. And he knows how to put glue in my hair and make it stick up like a Mohawk.
So that’s it, I’m running away with my MD and my fiancé (yes, we’re engaged, even though you tried to stop us many times). We’re going to the wild frontier. TO TEXAS! Goodbye medical school. You taught me a lot. You made me a doctor, and a much more patient person. You forced me to get along with people and go outside of my comfort zone. You introduced me to another friend, the operating room. So thank you.
Yes, I know that I can’t forget you that easily. I still have to pay your ugly alimony for the next thirty years in the form of monthly debt payments.
I’m sure you’ll find another soul mate. I’m sure there are plenty of young, naïve college grads eager to go out with you, to spend four impassioned years together. So go, be free to conquer the hearts and minds of those still eager to “help people”. Consider this a friendly departure. I still care for you deeply.
Dr. OB Cookie