My very first week of college I found myself sitting in an ER bed, nose-deep in a textbook. A series of unfortunate events landed me here, starting with an allergy test gone awry leading to an allergic reaction requiring steroids leading to heart palpitations. I was sure I was fine, but try convincing the mother of a daughter who recently moved across the country for college. I was just here for the “all clear,” and then I could go about my life as normal.

After an hour of waiting, my doctor walked in, a middle-aged man in blue scrubs. He took one look at me, then my textbook, and asked, “What are you studying?” I lifted up the book to show him. “Biology. I want to go to medical school, too.”

He smiled at me and wished me luck, then asked me about what brought me in today. After my long explanation, he seemed to understand and agreed it likely wasn’t anything serious, but we could check “just to be sure.”

Right before he was about to go, he glances back down on my chart and something seems to catch his eye. 

“You have endometriosis?”

“Yes, I do.” You see, I was diagnosed two years prior and after two surgeries, my chronic pain was stable and I was ready to go back to school. It wasn’t cured by any means, but I was fine and it certainly didn’t have anything to do with my ER visit that day.

“Ah. You should consider having a kid. It helps the pain.” I froze. I nodded so he would see I acknowledged him and leave the room, but I really didn’t understand. I was 18 years young, embarking on the beginning of a very long and grueling journey to do the very job the man in front of me was performing. He knows what the training is like, even more than I do. And yet he’s recommending that I have a child, a being that requires 24/7 care which I would be providing alone. I felt reduced to simply a uterus. Nevermind my lifelong dream of one day standing where the doctor in front of me is. Nevermind the fact I didn’t have a partner or any financial stability. Nevermind the fact I was barely an adult, not even remotely close to ready for parenthood. No, all I was there for was to have a baby to calm my wandering uterus, the source of all my pain and problems.

So there I was, my very first week of college sitting in an ER bed. But I wasn’t looking at my textbook anymore.

About the author: 

Mackenzie Kahrhoff is a second-year medical student at Baylor College of Medicine in Houston, Texas. She is passionate about women’s health and is leaning towards a future career as an OB/GYN. Outside of her studies, Mackenzie enjoys weightlifting, reading, writing, embroidery, and scrapbooking—activities that allow her to explore her artistic passions beyond the field of medicine.