My interview at UC Davis felt very comfortable and familiar. I knew almost everyone I came into contact with. The one person I didn't know was Dr. Nuovo, who interviewed me, and is a former medical school dean ironically.

My first interview was with a resident I had worked with very briefly. But he said he remembered me, and that even though we only interacted for a short amount of time, he could tell I was a hard worker. That just set up for a relaxed interview. The whole day was really relaxed actually.

The only extra information I got from the interview day (that I didn't already know) was that there is an underserved community rotation. That's better than nothing, but there is a definite disconnect between UC Davis and the Sacramento community.

Ugh, I'm blogging about this late (8 days later), and I don't know what to say anymore. Basically, I am almost positive they will rank me highly. But I've realized about myself that program directors I consider inspirational are those with a passion to serve. And I want to be at a program that inspires me. I really do. And UC Davis does not exude this passion.

Regret.

It's something I don't feel very often. I believe in the Butterfly Effect that any small, tiny change would have taken my life in a different direction. And I'm fortunate to love my life. So I don't regret very much because I don't wish for anything in my life to be different (though I do wish for other people's lives to be different).

Two weeks ago, I did feel a strong sense of regret. I found out that Ron Wilson died. He was a former Vice Chancellor at UC Irvine, and he got me into UC Davis medical school. I hadn't seen or spoken to him in nearly three years. The last time was Thanksgiving of my first year of medical school. And now I'm a fourth-year. Not only had I not seen or spoken to him in so long, I had seriously contemplated visiting him this past summer when I was in southern California. But I didn't follow through. I can't for the life of me remember any specific reason why I didn't follow through. Just a general mis-prioritization. I knew he was old and ill. I missed my chance.

I immediately started sobbing when I read that he died. I believe the source of the sobbing was regret more than grief. This man was a huge reason why my life is so great, and I never told him how wonderful medical school has been. I never told him that I chose Family Medicine. He would have been so proud.

I called his wife to give her my condolences, and she ended up comforting me. I told her about how I wish I kept in touch better, and she told me that he wasn't doing well in the past year. Then she told me that even though he died >1 month ago, the memorial service was the following week! I knew I had to go.

It is quite coincidental that I found out about Ron's death. My sister's friend Lisa told me. She works in the UCI Chancellor office and I had told her about Ron Wilson nearly 2 years ago. She actually had heard about him from other people in the office and Ron's daughter worked there too. I was so lucky to find out from her.

Though a trip to OC was unexpected, David and I managed quite nicely to attend 2 memorial services in OC in the same week. And it was actually a very wonderful trip where we spent quality time with a good amount of people without feeling too spread thin. Including David's childhood friends I've never met before.

Ron's memorial service was attended by ~300 people. They even ran out of programs, and Ron's wife Carol graciously gave me hers. They displayed his beautiful photography of landscapes and portraits. Ron had said he would give me one of his prints, and again I didn't follow through. The quotes from the speakers I purposely remembered were:

"Ron didn't just touch people's lives, he altered their lives in a positive direction." Spoken by a former mentee of his who is now a fellowship-trained doctor. I had to introduce myself to him. Ron had a 100% track record of getting students into medical school, and I'm pretty sure I was the last one. Ron retired from UCI before 2002, so I'm from a totally different generation of students. I had to meet the doctor who spoke. We are both products of Ron Wilson's mentoring. I told him I was a fourth-year medical student and that Ron helped me get into medical school. And he said, "if Ron believed in you, you must be special." He also said that we are supposed to be celebrating his life, but it's hard to celebrate when the guest of honor isn't here.

"He believed in me when I didn't believe in myself." Spoken by his successor, who was hand-picked by Ron to succeed him. This reminded me of when I was driving up for my interview at UC Davis. We were on I-5 and had passed 152, the farthest north on the 5 I had ever been. That's when the nerves of my first medical school interview hit me. I started having palpitations. And then I thought about Ron. I remember he told me to believe in myself. Words that are said all the time, but rang true coming from him. I was able to share this with Ron after my interview. He even bragged about it to his wife Carol. I cherish that.

"Carol was his rock." David hugged me tighter when these words were spoken and whispered in my ear, "thank you for being my rock." I love my man.

I learned that Ron had a heart transplant in 2002. He was days from dying, and they could not find a heart big enough for him. How poetic.

Jodaiko gave a wonderful performance at the beginning of the service. Jodaiko is the taiko Japanese drum group at UCI. I didn't know Ron that well, but I even knew that he always wanted Jodaiko to perform at his funeral. It was a little surreal to watch the performance. Ron had wanted this for many, many years, and there they were.

I no longer feel regret about having not kept in touch better. Attending that memorial service showed me that Ron impacted many, many people's lives. He knew what a great life he lived. He knew how he helped so many people. There is no need for me to dwell on my relationship with him specifically.

He wrote a letter to all of us, and it was in the program. It was a very interesting letter about how he's hanging out with all these cool people in heaven now. And that he wants to hear from us. I find myself back to a naive, younger version of myself wishing that heaven does exist. Wishing that there is more to this life, and that he was able to enjoy the Jodaiko performance too. Wishing that he knows how grateful I am for the impact he's had on me and my life.

If you're listening, Ron. I want you to know that I'm going into Family Medicine to help transform the health of our country. That I will be a kind doctor that makes my patients feel valued. That I will always remember what you did for me.

David’s cousin’s grandmother passed away last week. Her name was Betty also. I met her a handful of times since I started dating David nearly 5 years ago. I even brought egg rolls to her birthday potluck (which were a hit). She always remembered David even though she was very old and nearly blind.

I didn’t know her well, but well enough to know that she was very sweet and kind. I knew she was very Christian. I knew she opened her home to many people to the point of adopting some of them. I knew she was cared for by one of her daughters, who the rest of the family did not think was doing an adequate job.

Her memorial service confirmed all of this. The recurring theme was that she lived for Jesus and lived by His word. I like Jesus’ message of love and generosity and humility. And I do believe Grandma Betty personified Jesus’ message. But that is the extent to which I agree with Christianity. Another recurring theme at the memorial service was to take Jesus’ message a step further, into worship. I guess that the Bible is His message, but the talk about worship and not idolizing false gods does not make sense to me. There were times that the service stopped being about Grandma Betty and started being about the Bible. In my heart, I know that a book does not determine a person's worth. Grandma Betty's belief in Christ allowed her to feel supported while being a good person. But she was a good person independent of Christianity. 

My favorite part of the service was when her son Noonie read a note that Grandma Betty wrote years ago. She described what hardship she had raising 5 young children as a single mother. How she had to walk 8 miles with the children in a wagon to get to work on the farms. Then walk 8 miles back for a nominal amount of money. Food and money were scarce. While the story sounded like acknowledgement of what she's had to overcome, she sadly ended with thoughts of worthlessness. The thoughts were to the effect of, "so what?"

It was written on a single piece of paper, it wasn't even a journal. She must have been in a dark place when she wrote it, even depressed. We will never know why she wrote it down and how she got out of the dark place. But it was very special. I feel privileged to have listened to her words. 

I also loved when several family members played recordings of her singing. They were recorded in her last days. It was very sweet. 

This side of the family is very troubled and complicated. But the one value they all have right is their value of Grandma Betty. She kept this family good even when they made dark choices. As messed up as their lives have gotten, they were always able to look at Grandma Betty to be the good. I don't wonder about how they will get on without her, I honestly imagine that they will get on in a way that I don't want to know about. 

At several points in the past ~14 months, Kaiser Vallejo was my “#1 choice.” I think its biggest selling point is that it’s the first family medicine residency for Kaiser Northern California. This is a selling point for me because I want to be a Kaiser doc, and because I love Nor Cal. Even as recent as the National Conference in Kansas City 2.5 months ago, I wanted to match there so bad.

That feeling has waxed and waned. As I learn in more detail about which programs are highly respected, I see myself more in one of these excellent training programs…and I see myself less in a brand new residency.

I don’t mind the frustrations and growing pains that are anticipated with anything that’s brand new. But I do worry about the quality of the training. It’ll be a huge leap of faith.

The reason I was so excited about this program in Kansas City is because I learned that they have a relationship with Vallejo Unified School District, and that each resident will be assigned to a school to assess its needs and execute an intervention. This idea still excites me very much. I still have a deep passion for education, I still believe that education can solve our world’s problems. I would love to influence the health of a community by targeting its youth.

The work schedule will be relatively light, and that used to be very appealing to me. But again, as I learn about these highly respected programs that are inpatient heavy, a demanding schedule doesn’t seem so bad. I do value free time and sleep and wellness…but a part of me wants to challenge myself. Really pay my dues. Just jump in the pool. I believe I will grow more in a more challenging residency. And I love growth.

I didn’t feel the same enthusiasm that I felt at UCSF. While it’s a great hospital and the program has some great aspects, it’s lacking that excellence UCSF exuded. Obviously, a new program cannot provide examples of excellence. But the attendings were new, and they were lacking the ability to inspire that only experience can provide. 

I still want to be a Kaiser doc, and a Kaiser residency would be the easiest road to take. But I can still be a Kaiser doc even if I did a non-Kaiser residency.