About

Everything was going smoothly. I entered the prestigious medical school at the top of my class and completed two years of pre-med and four years of medical school with excellent grades. I passed the national exams on my first try and completed my internship just as smoothly. As my one-year internship drew to a close, it was time to choose a specialty. I didn't even have to think about which department to go into. I had already decided on my major back in my senior year of high school when I first chose to go to medical school. I didn't care about the number of openings. I decided I would do it, and I've run like a dog to achieve the goals I wanted, so I'm guaranteed to get in. Being the top of the class—that is the source of my justified confidence. A subtle psychological war began among my peers. The name mentioned most often was 'that top-of-the-class guy'—in other words, me. I looked down on my classmates who were anxious about the lack of openings in dermatology and plastic surgery. If they were that worried, they should have worked harder than me. So, where did that top-of-the-class guy go? "I applied for Pediatrics and Adolescent Medicine."