The Interview from Hades

This last weekend, I walked into my UK College of Medicine interview with my head held high and confidence bursting out of the seams of my brand new, sexy business suit. This was the first interview offer I had received, somewhat discouraging considering most of my friends have already been accepted by multiple institutions and knowing that UK's med school class was already 90% full, but I was not going to let it get me down. I am a student-athlete at a top university, dagnumit, and I carry a 3.98 GPA. Who cares that my MCAT score was only mediocre and that I had no first hand clinical experience. I am Elisabeth Leigh Jones, daughter of the legendary Dr. Raleigh Jones and Dr. Janine Jones, both members of the UK Medical School Class of 1980.

I was 1 of 16 people getting interviewed that cold, rainy morning in Lexington. I was going up against students from Johns Hopkins, UVA, Illinois, Wisconsin, and NC State. Obviously if these kids were getting interview offers as out-of-state applicants, they have to be great candidates. Nonetheless, I figured I was still in good standing. The Interviewers were then introduced, and unfortunately I did not recognize any of them. I was hoping to get interviewed by one of my parents' peers, considering they had both been working at UK Hospital for 20+ years, but I was not that lucky. The next thing I was hoping for was to get interviewed by one of the middle aged men, someone who would be interested in me playing college athletics (since that is really the only thing worth anything on my application). I figured most men are sports-lovers, considering they do carry the Y chromosome. But alas, my name was called for my first interview, and I looked up to find an 86 year old woman, who was about the size of pre-menstrual 12 year old girl. Great!

Dr. Jackie Noonan was her name, one of the premier pediatric cardiologists in the world, I came to find out later. She even has a syndrome named after her (Noonan Syndrome). The interview started out fantastic. She immediately recognized me as the daughter of Raleigh Jones and the granddaughter of Phyllis Corbitt. It was very conversational; we talked about soccer, photography, traveling, and music. She never made me feel uncomfortable. I felt great after those 30 minutes were done. I figured I had gotten my first interview jitters out of the way and it could only get better for my next interview.

But oh, was I wrong.

For the next hour I was the victim of Dr. Greg Jicha, an MD/PhD in Neurology. He had no shame in telling me that he had turned down Harvard Medical School, that he was the best in the world in his field, and that he brings in 5x the amount of money to UK Hospital that his salary pays him. He absolutely grilled me for the last 45 minutes of the interview, mind you it was only supposed to last 30 minutes. I learned a lot about myself from him during that hour. According to Dr. Jicha...

1) Since soccer has been such a huge passion of mine for the past 20 years, I will be unable to let go of it and move on, which would greatly hinder my ability to succeed in medical school. I will be too focused on working out and coaching to make time for medicine.
2) Having both of my parents in Lexington, working at the same hospital I will be attending medical school, will only hinder my ability to become a strong, independent individual. I will be a puppet to them and choose whatever area of medicine they want me to go into. I am incapable of making my own decisions.
3) As someone who is interested in going into primary care, I will become the stereotypical family practitioner who knows nothing about everything. I will misdiagnose almost every case that comes into my office.
4) I need to be more confident.
5) Just because my parents are physicians does not merit me to act like I know what it is like to be a doctor. It is really disappointing that I could not find the time to have more personal clinical experience. I am just going into medicine because that is what Jones' do.
6) I was unprepared for the interview (yes, he actually told me this).

I have never felt more inadequate or incompetant in my life. I was the last one to finish my interviews. I walked into the meeting room afterwards and the few acquaintances I had met beforehand immediately asked me where I had been. They had all finished their interviews and eaten their lunches by the time I got there. They chatted amongst themselves on how laid back and easy their interviews were, and how they all felt confident of their chances of getting accepted. Praises and accolades spilled forth for the next few minutes, before one of them asked me how mine had gone. Holding back the tears, I explained that I had not had the same experience, but I brushed it aside, acting like I did not really care. But inside I was dying.

I left UK that day feeling like I did on August 6th, the day I took the MCAT - an utter failure. I was holding everything in, trying to soak in the morning's events, when Sarah called me right when I got to my car. I immediately started bawling to her, telling the story, while she sat their and listened, giving me the calm, encouraging advice that she always does. I don't know what I would do without that girl.

So then the trouble came with the multiple text messages and emails I got from friends the next couple of days, all asking me how it had gone. I didn't go into much detail with anyone, but I told them I didn't think my chances were good. I was embarrassed. UK was supposed to be my shoe-in. I ignored a lot of phone calls and messages over the past week, trying to forget about it. It was hard to not think about it while I was skiing in Colorado, knowing that I would find out my stance with them this weekend. But I tried.

I got back home to Kentucky this afternoon. The flight home was long and depressing. I kept playing the interview over and over again in my mind, playing the "what if" game on some of my responses, and thinking of what my life will consist of this next year as I re-apply. But at 5pm my phone buzzed, telling me I had a new voicemail. Oddly my phone had not rang, so I didn't know who it was from, and I just ignored the voicemail. About 30 minutes later I thought I would check it out, and it ended up being Dr. Noonan calling to congratulate me on getting accepted into the 2012 UK College of Medicine class. WHOOP!

So it ends up being all my worrying was for nothing. That seems to always be the case with me. But I really do believe that anyone who was in my shoes and had experienced the arrogance and ferocity of Dr. Jicha would have felt the same way I did. Somehow, the interview from hell ended up turning out good in my favor. I don't know if this was some nasty trick God was playing on me, but if so, He sure did fool me.