So there I was, in my junior year of college. I had spent two and a half years preparing for this next step on my path to becoming a doctor. All of a sudden, I didn't want it anymore. I remember breaking the news to my parents, if they were disappointed it certainly didn't show. In fact, I was a bit surprised at how supportive they were. My parents only wanted me to be happy. They even setup a meeting with a hospital administrator after I said that I might want to go in that direction. Turned out, I didn't.
I no longer was able to declare with confidence, "I'm going to be a doctor." I actually felt relieved to admit that I had no idea what I was going to do. I was getting to a place where other people's opinions didn't matter as much and I felt at ease.
I was talking to my Dad one day and he mentioned that my cousin had been accepted to optometry school. I didn't know much about optometry as I had only had my eyes checked once in my life. It sounded great though: only 4 more years of school and she would be a "doctor." One of the scariest things about med school had been the thought of a good 8 more years of school. That sounded like a prison sentence! I mean, I could handle 4 more years, right?
I did some research about optometry and then quickly made up my mind. I would go to optometry school! What else was I going to do with a degree in health sciences? I certainly didn't want to be a dentist. Teeth gross me out :)
I breezed through the admission test and the interview. My life was figured out again. Or at least I was pretty sure it was...
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