This was last Monday at 9am. I applied only to general surgery programs after choosing the specialty late, and with a passing but well below-average step 1 score. I only had three interviews (including my home program), so it wasnât really unexpected that I didnât match, but it was still a shock. My plan was to try to SOAP into a surgery prelim and reapply next year. My main advisor convinced me to put in some EM applications as well, and the EM faculty rallied to upload my SLOE and another recommendation within hours. My sister and two of my super-awesome classmates read my new personal statement, and I uploaded it and sent in my SOAP applications at 4am, then faceplanted into bed wondering how I was going to make the choice between EM and surgery for the second time in a year.
Turns out it was a non-issue. Out of 26 surgery programs I applied (or re-applied) to, I was called for ONE interviewâmy home program again. The other 19 applications were for EM programs; I had 10 EM interviews in two days (with another offered but we couldnât resolve a time conflict). That was more interviews than some of my EM-matched classmates had in the main match. Most of them went well, a few went very well. There werenât any I wouldnât have ranked, although I had some clear favorites. Wednesday night when I went to bed, I was pretty confident that I would have a job next year, probably in EM. Then this happened:
I spent the next three hours frantically emailing programs to let them know I was still unmatched and interested. My advisor and some of the EM faculty made phone calls and sent emails. A few programs were nice enough to reply that theyâd filled their spots, but I had no way of knowing if others were even getting my emails. I logged back in just after noon to find this:
I put my head down on the table and started crying for the first time all week. After I talked to my home EM PD about my options and crowd-sourced with EM-bound classmates (SERIOUSLY, my classmates are the absolute GOATS đ), I made a choice with 20 minutes to spare.
I still donât have much distance on this, but here are my take-home messages so far:
1. IT SHOULD NOT BE THIS DAMN DIFFICULT TO GET A RESIDENCY SPOT. Iâm going to be a great physician. Everyone else I know that SOAPed this year is going to be a great physician. We should not have to beg for a job or game the system. It is ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLE that this process lets so many good, strong future physicians (especially those who are URM) fall through the cracks because theyâre less-connected to the network and donât have anyone to make phone calls and send emails on their behalf. It should not come down to a game of who-you-know.
2. I used to say I didnât want to be a surgeon because then Iâd have to deal with surgeons all the time, and surgeons are assholes. I certainly donât think thatâs universally true, but the culture definitely discourages (or at least doesnât encourage) supporting others. I knew that when I went all-in for general surgery in the main match, and was planning to do as much as possible to change it. But there is NO WAY the surgery department would do for me what the EM faculty did this week. In fact, they didnât even offer, even when they knew I was in trouble. My surgery advisor was at our match day party on Friday and completely ignored me, even though I never contacted him with any updates. The EM advisor made it a point to come grab me for an EM group picture. Itâs making it much easier to look forward and be optimistic.
3. I am shouting from the rooftops that I didnât match and had to SOAP. Iâve been helping out with anatomy lab review sessions this year, so most of the MS1s know me, and I told a few of them what happened, then said, âThis is ABSOLUTELY not a secret. Tell anyone you want, and tell them they can ask me about it. Maybe just warn them that I might cry a little if they do. But they still should.â No one ever talks about it, so everyone thinks theyâre the only one, and that makes it feel even worse. I SOAPed. I survived. And maybe my career will be different than I envisioned, but itâs going to be spectacular.