Catherine Smith
University of Ottawa
Class of 2014


As a medical student, I have been fairly successful in my academic life. During my undergraduate years I was at the top of my class. I was accepted into medical school in 2010 and I did reasonably well on all of my tests and clinical rotations. None of my preceptors identified any red flags and the faculty never brought up any concerns regarding my work ethic. I don’t believe I am alone in this; the majority of my peers have had similarly smooth academic experiences. Therefore, the most difficult thing to hear is that we are lacking.

On March 5th, 2014, we received the results of our CaRMs match: the process that matches medical students to their desired residency. I had applied for Obstetrics and Gynecology and my partner to Pediatric Neurology. We were excited to start our new careers and had worked hard to become competitive candidates. We had the right electives, were actively involved in research, and had supportive mentors. However, when we opened the match results, I was floored.

“We regret to inform you that you did not match this year.”

My initial reaction was shock. There must have been a mistake. I thought I could hit refresh and then be magically matched; my computer almost melted from refreshing the CaRMs’ page. My brain was blank. Numb. I experienced utter incomprehension.

My partner and I drove to meet with faculty and other unmatched candidates. It was somber. I was handed a list of available positions for the second round of CaRMs matching  – no OBGYN spots. I cried. We all cried for the paths we could not take and the imminent, difficult decisions that faced us. My career aspirations were gone so quickly and cruelly.

I had one week to apply, from scratch, to new specialities to which I had little affinity. I felt stripped of my autonomy to choose my career after years of hard work. I was resentful of how quickly I needed to change my dreams – the dreams that I had built over years of careful consideration. Mostly, there was a paralyzing sadness and embarrassment for what I perceived as a very public failure. My ego, after years of diligent development, was flattened. The illusion of academic invulnerability was shattered.

There was very little time to wallow in self-pity. I had taken time to grieve and had to become productive. “You’re still breathing, not bleeding, and your family still loves you,” my dad told me.

I know that he’s right. Whether or not I matched to a residency isn’t reflective of my worth as a human, my ability to be a productive member of society or, most importantly, my ability to be happy. Medicine can be all consuming. It becomes woven into every aspect of your life. A large part of my identity and sense of worth had become entangled with my career aspirations, and not matching to a residency was a moment in my life that forced me into the realization that I am more than just my career choice.

A crushed ego hurts. However, it was not evident to me until I didn’t match that it can also be healthy. As a medical student, you are taught to make decisions that can alter lives. This is a unique and terrifying power. We are taught to trust our decisions and commit to them. We have to be cognizant of a tendency towards egotism – not only for ourselves, but also for our patients. The medical community is one that expects both personal and communal excellence. This leads to a personal and societal intolerance of error and failure. To believe that I am infallible is a fallacy.

I have decided that the right choice for me is to take another year to explore my career options and aspirations. I hope to re-evaluate other areas of medicine, to maintain a healthy work-life balance and to approach this year with humility and gratitude. Here’s to a year of introspection and exploration of medicine, to an exciting year with my family and friends, and to remembering that what doesn’t kill you…