Thoughts…

The testing site was at the Chicago Marriott O’Hare Airport Hotel, although they should really throw “Sort-Of-Near” into the official title, since it’s a 15 minute shuttle ride with a scheduled stop at a second Marriott from the airport.  What it’s not near is downtown – it’s about a 30 minute cab ride to the Magnificent Mile.  Hey ABEM, how about either holding the boards somewhere downtown, since that’s where most are headed after the test, or at the O’Hare Hilton, so I can just walk from the terminal to my room.

I hadn’t worn the suit since my last job interview somewhere around February of 2006.  It’s every bit as uncomfortable as I remembered.  Wearing pajamas scrubs to work everyday is absolutely fantastic.

The written boards were in November of 2006.  Those that passed were randomly assigned to one of two oral board sessions, Spring or Fall of 2007.  I received the latter.  I arrive to find that there are six different sessions, running morning and afternoon on a Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.  I am assigned to Monday afternoon.  The last session of the last day of the last group.  I literally could not have waited any longer to take the boards.  ABEM, you guys are killing me.

I go to the floor where my cases will be administered.  I arrive about 10 minutes early.  There are maybe twelve of us sitting around.  We are confined to a small space at the end of the hall, next to the elevators.  The mood is somber, pensive, reflective.  Throw in a casket and we could easily be at a funeral.

Three minutes before we are scheduled to begin, we are allowed access to the hallway.  We slowly make our way down, test schedules held in front of us, looking for our assigned rooms.  Now it feels like the first day of junior high.

I stand across the hall from my assigned room, looking at the closed door.  I’m trying to find a natural place for my hands: in front of me, in my pockets, behind me.  It’s the most nervous I’ll feel the entire day.

The door opens and the examiner introduces himself, shaking my hand.  I’m led to the back of the room, the door shutting behind me.  A long table has been placed between the back window and a bed, looking unnatural in an otherwise ordinary hotel room.  I am asked to sit down.  The examiner sits across the table from me.  I see only a floating head, his body obscured by upright folders blocking the details of the case from me.  I am asked if I have any questions, I say no, and the exam commences.

I have 15 minutes to diagnose, treat, and dispo this pretend patient.  I’ll repeat this a total of seven times over the course of the day.  Five of the cases will be like this one, a “single-patient encounter.”  Of those five, four count and one doesn’t, the one being a ”test case” that they are trying out on us to see if they want to use it for future exams.  Unfortunately, I don’t know which is which.  The other two are “triples,” where we have three patients to manage instead of just one, and 30 minutes instead of 15.

Ugh.  My first case did not go well.  I needed all of the allotted time.  I kept forgetting stuff and having to go back.  The whole thing didn’t flow well.  A couple of minutes after finishing my mind stops racing and I start thinking more clearly.  Now I know I didn’t do a couple of things I really should have done.  Oh no!

After waiting a year and slogging through a review course and flying all the way up here have I already blown the boards?  Will I have to do this all over again, and endure professional embarrassment?  A little panic is building inside of my stomach, but I quickly suppress it.  We have two 20 minutes breaks interspersed throughout the testing day, and I’m lucky to have one of them scheduled for now.  I’ve been told that people who fail the boards often have a bad case, can’t let it go, and have things snowball on them.  I may have failed this case, or come real close, but I can still pass the boards.  It’s not impossible, just more difficult.

Next case is a triple.  This goes much, much better.  In fact the rest of the day is devoid of drama — I settle into a rhythm, I figure out everything easily, and I’m pretty sure I crush the remainder of the cases. 

Now I wait, it’ll be 60-90 days until I find out if I passed.  If I hadn’t of messed up that ******* first case I’d be feeling great.  As it is I’m feeling pretty good, unless I really got killed on the first case and/or I overestimated how well I did on the others.  It feels great to not have them hanging over my head anymore, but until I know I don’t have to retake them I’ll remain a little guarded. 

Hey ABEM, I’m sorry for what I said before – can ya cut a nice young doctor a little slack?