Empathy

It happens sometimes that a moment gets etched into memory more than others. A smell, a taste, a touch, some little thing that makes the connections in the brain stronger. Maybe it's more than chemistry. Who knows.

This moment happened during an interview I had this week. It was an unusual format: a panel of 3 applicants and 2 interviewers, all sitting around a conference table. After the introductions, both interviewers asked each of us a question, going around the table. We all listened to each others answers, trying to pick up bits and pieces maybe to use for our next answer. In reality, all the questions were rather unrelated. One of them addressed to me asked about a challenging time in my life. I had written several essays on this topic for the applications, but somehow, none of those came to mind. My one simple rule (for myself) at these interviews has been to stick to whatever comes to mind first. Even if it's not the best story or example, there is no time to hesitate, no time to think about alternatives. Besides, I do believe there is a reason that one thing comes to mind before all the others under stress.

So I went with this story. I have no idea how this came to mind first, but it did. I think about Mariann every once in a while, this was obviously something that left a deep mark on all of us who knew her and were there when she passed away. So I related the events of that day, tried to explain how I felt, how we all felt, what we talked about, how it made us realize the fragility of life, the value of the moment, deep thoughts at 17. Still are at 28.

Once I was done talking, the next question was directed at the guy sitting next to me. His answer had something to do with music. So he started off by saying something along the lines of "I'll try to make this a little more cheerful". I suddenly felt like it had been a horrible idea to bring up Mariann. I think I said sorry for the dark story, or something similar. To that, he turned to me, looked at me - really locked eyes with me - he had these very kind eyes, sort of sad, mature for a 22 year old, and he very lightly touched my arm. He didn't say anything. It was just a gesture of empathy. Very powerful. A touch so light I barely felt it. And yet I immediately thought "this person should become a doctor and I want him to be my doctor" and in that moment I was 100% certain that he would be accepted and that he would become a great doctor, a compassionate doctor. Whether this gesture was genuine or put on for the sake of the interviewers, I can't say, although I do think these moments are hard to fake, it doesn't really matter anyway. I was touched. I hope we will be classmates next year.