Letting Go

Jensyn Cone

Med school has a way of paring the non-essentials out of life. But, its rigid time constraints have also managed to clearly highlight what I cannot live without.

Things I’ve let go:

Matching my socks. On any given day, you’ll find me rocking some interesting sock combinations at the gym. Grey polka dots/bright teal. Green stripes/technical running sock. “Smart chicks are cool”/pink swirls. It’s terrible, I know. Welcome to my world.

A perfectly neat car. I’m OCD about tidy cars (the only thing I’m OCD about, I swear!) I like my Hyundai’s interior to look rental-car neat. As of today, it looks more like a trucker’s cab five days into a cross-country trip. Two sets of gym clothes, four Starbucks cups, enough diabetic supplies to keep my diabetes under control for a month, a random winter coat (whose purpose, on this gorgeous, 70 degree day, is solely to conceal the rest of the junk…)

Blowing my hair dry. Nowadays, post-shower hair goes in a big, messy, wet bun on my head. The best part? Messy buns are supposed to be messy. Hairbrushes are totally optional (at least until I see Dean Youkey walking down the hallway and have to duck into a classroom to feverishly brush out my Medusa-like knot…

Full-blown meal cooking. I love to cook. I always have. I always will. But Fettuccine Alfredo with Grilled Chicken?  Grilled Salmon with Ginger Wasabi Glaze? Braised Filet with Garlic Smashed Potatoes? That’s what Christmas break is for.

Ironing. If it were up to me, the developer of no-iron cotton would get a Nobel Prize. I love that man.

Things I refuse to let go:

Time with family. When my school day is finally done, I step through my front door, drop the roughly 27 pounds of books/computers I toted home, and am greeted by two of the most beautiful smiles in the world: my grandparents. “How was your day?” they ask. The next few minutes we trade stories about our day. What I learned in anatomy lab. Who my grandma talked to at the hairdresser. What my grandpa is planning on planting in his garden this spring. These conversations are a reality check. They remind me that, no matter how wildly frustrated I am with head and neck anatomy, no matter how much I made a fool of myself in histology lab, my family is awesome and the love we share keeps me going. In my mom’s gently mocking words, “Jensyn, we still love you, even if you get a B.”

Music. Somehow, the time I spend playing the piano seems to vary proportionately with how busy I am. The more I have to do, the more I want to sit down and smash out some Rachmaninoff. Luckily for me, it’s wildly stress relieving. Luckily for my grandparents, they can just turn off their hearing aids.

Working out. I consider my daily runs the ultimate in multitasking. Feverishly pounding some pavement (or a treadmill belt) manages to keep me sane and keep me from weighing 300 pounds. I think that’s a valuable investment of my time.

Church. When I gather with family and friends to worship, I’m surrounded with 500 people who struggle with day-to-day life just like I do. Yet, that hour-and-a-half together reminds us that we’re not on earth to live life for ourselves. We’re here to mutually support and build each other up as we seek to honor and serve our God.

Random conversations. Every day, I try to at least greet the people around me. The med school building’s custodial workers, the Starbucks girls, the cashier in the cafeteria, med school interviewees. Seeing them reminds me that my present reality—school, books, science, tests, and self-imposed perfectionism—isn’t really what this journey’s about. It’s about realizing life is way, way bigger than my grades and my success. It’s about others. It’s about making and keeping them well. It’s about encouraging them when life is tough and rejoicing with them when life is awesome.