/lit/ - Literature

>Around February, I learned that Anthony was considering doing his intermediary year at a community hospital in New Rochelle and continuing to live with my parents. He reasoned that he needed a rest and decided, probably incorrectly, that there would be less pressure at a local hospital. Plus he’d still follow that with a radiology residency so it didn’t matter. My parents strenuously objected to his turning down a world-class hospital and realized that it wasn’t healthy for him to be at home anymore, but what could anyone do except wait for the match?

>In late winter, med students across the country submit a ranked list of residency programs. In mid-March they learn if they matched and where. If Anthony ranked the New Rochelle hospital first, and they chose him, he’d be committed to it. Anna had labored over Anthony’s list with him and she was confident that he had led with a major teaching center.

>At medical schools, Match Day is an understandably celebrated occasion and my mother asked Anthony if he’d be going to Philadelphia to be with his classmates. He said no. Since he barely knew the students he’d be graduating with, he could just find out online. “I thought that was a very bad sign,” she said.

>And then he matched: A general year at Brigham & Women’s in Boston followed by NYU’s elite radiology program. He strutted on Facebook, “the brigham for prelim and then nyu for rads. all i want to know is who's coming with me?”

>This New Year’s Day my mother and I sat with bagels, lox and coffee at the ovular wooden porch table where Anthony had liked to work on his laptop. As she spoke, she stared at a spot in the middle of the table, one hand curled at her brow, the other pressed flat against her cheek.