Third time lucky

When choosing my preferences for medical school I remember clearly having this joyous, naive optimism that my first choice would be where I would actually go and the other two choices were just…well…they were for filling in space. I was blissfully unaware of the gravity, difficulty and seriousness of “getting into med school”. The one friend I had who was studying med was (is) a drunken, fabulous loon so how hard could it be? My partner & I talked about Melbourne University as if I was already accepted,  and discussed what we’d do “when we get to Melbourne”. 

My mum was the only sane one who suggested I take a bit of care in choosing my other two preferences, and only to put down uni’s in places we would actually consider moving to. Pfft! Mothers! What do they know? 


A lot, apparently. 


I felt absolutely gutted when I received an email from my second choice university telling me that they’d like to offer me an opportunity to be a part of their application pool. After briefly imagining swimming awkwardly in a lukewarm pool with 400 other hopefuls, the fact that I had been passed on by my number 1 choice really hit me. I didn’t want to go to this other uni. I’d studied there briefly and hated it. I was unashamedly shallow about wanting to move to Melbourne. Melbourne University had pretty buildings and you could walk to the city, have coffee and browse through laneways whilst dragging a red ball of string behind you…

Victorian tourism had me hooked. 

Futhermore, my partner had his heart set on Melbourne. And he re-he-heally likes coffee. So, we threw a tantrum together. Then, we slowly came to terms with, possibly, maybe, living in the second choice city and I hurriedly filled out the ‘application pool’ whatsit dooby and forgot about it.




A few weeks later I received an email from my third choice university. My treading water in the imaginary application pool of second-choice-uni was over. I had accidently not opted for a BMP, and had forgotten to note my rural status. I found out on Paging Dr that BMP’s were given to those with lower GAMSAT scores and that I’d obviously been passed on. But this time I was like a puppy dog, ready to sit, shake hands, lie down and roll over for who ever wanted me. 


When I went for the interview at my third-choice-uni I was struck by the feeling that everything does happen for a reason. If I hadn’t have stuffed up application pool stuff for second-choice-uni, I wouldn’t have been passed on to such a great school, (nor realised the importance of a BMP).  I really loved the location, the people at the front desk, the staff, the building, and the cafe (did I mention I’m shallow?). This was the school that my Mum & Dad suggested I preference first, the school closest to my family and the school I, begrudgingly, put down third because I had to fill in the space. 


So I concede again that Mum is (nearly) always right.


2 Responses to “Third time lucky”

  1. Miss-G- Says:

    Ugh I moved to Sydney to get AWAY from Melbourne uni! 60 grad places with hundreds of 18 year olds, superiority complex bigger than the universe, self-entitled students that have to be seen to be believed, and the largest dose of small minded self-pride you have ever come across.

    Okay I know I don’t speak for *everyone* there, given I’ve got a couple of friends there. But even all the lattes and nice buildings in the world don’t make up for the shiteous cold weather that exists for 90% of the year. I haven’t heard a single bad word about your uni on the other hand, everyone really loves it!

  2. C Says:

    Thanks, Miss G. As a warm weather wimp, the weather would have probably broken me in the first few weeks. That damn, romantic red-ball-of-string ad has a lot to answer for. Using seductive Joanna Newsom melody is just low…

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