Mail call

Yesterday was an unusually busy day on a BLS transfer truck, ending with a messed up call that will be a story for another day. I was forty minutes late getting out of work, had a crushing headache, and was thankful that being late at least meant no traffic to deal with. I came in the front door to a smiling K and an excited Watson full of puppy kisses, both happy to see me. I could smell dinner cooking and it was one of those "all is right with the world" moments where I can actually relax and let all my troubles go for a time.

I headed upstairs in full preparation for relaxation mode. Mail is usually on the dining table at our house, so I glanced over to see if there was anything interesting. And there it was. All alone, perfectly straight and neat. Oh crap. From relaxation to full anxiety in 2.2 milliseconds. To me from ABC Medical School, just a letter, one page from the looks of it. In the ordinary college admissions process, letters are bad news, big fat packets of information are good news. Knowing that and the response I got from the last medical school, I'm thinking rejection and steeling myself for the sharp stabbing pain that comes from being told I'm not good enough.

I look at K, "Great day to be rejected, huh?"

"I don't think so. There's a lot of writing on it. It wouldn't take them that long to tell you no." And he confesses to holding it up to the light and trying to see what it said so he knows whether to get into consolation or celebration mode. He couldn't tell, but it makes me smile just to know he tried. I would do the same if the roles were reversed.

"Nah. They wouldn't bother sending just a single page letter for anything good."

"So open it already!"

And under his intense gaze, I did. My face gave something away even as my brain demanded a second reading to be sure. There it was, an invitation to interview. Holy smokes, somebody might want me, somebody thinks I might be good enough to make life and death decisions about the medical care of healthy and sick people.

K is grinning, "Told you so. I told you all along. Have some faith, of course they want you."

The rest of the night was disbelief and anxiety. A couple calls to the family so they could hear it before they read it here. So there it is, an actual interview - I made the initial cut.