Looking back

Today Mass was celebrated for a doctor who changed the life of a priest—Fr. Riley was one step from abandoning the Midwest misery of Notre Dame for the glamour of Hollywood, but typewritten letters from a friend convinced him to stick it out and here he is. Quite the legacy. It made me think of a priest who changed the life of a doctor…

Apprehension filled my heart as I sat in the stiff chair, clutching my test results. What if he couldn’t tell me what my career path was? What if I answered some of the questions wrong? What if he told me something I didn’t want to hear? I almost laugh looking back at it now, how anyone could be fearful of meeting with a soft-spoken five-foot jolly caricature of a Jesuit. 

As freshmen at Creighton, I’m sure there were many opportunities for career advice, but the only one anyone took seriously was Fr. Schloemer. (Reverently picture a garden gnome. In a collar. That's him.) His formal title escapes me, but he worked in academic counseling, and the general sentiment was that he was the one to tell you what to do with your life. There was a prerequisite personality and skills inventory whose results I carried to my appointment that day, but I was still skeptical.

The structure of the meeting was informal. We mapped out a sample course schedule based on my chosen major (biology) and I don’t even think he looked at the test. Near the end of the discussion, he set the course for my vocation as a physician. With his dulled pencil in hand, he humbly asked, “May I make a suggestion?” I nodded somewhat hesitantly. He scrawled “MCAT” on my schedule between the column of my prospective sophomore and junior year. I cringed.

“I don’t want to take the MCAT. I don’t think I want to go to medical school.”

“You’ll have all your prerequisites done. It’s better to do it before you forget. It doesn’t mean you have to apply to medical school.”

He had a point there. So I resigned myself to this new development and left feeling somewhat unfulfilled. I still didn’t have an answer. Or so I thought.

From that moment on though, I could see God chipping away at my wall. I wasn’t confident enough, or smart enough, or dedicated enough to be a doctor. But I started to want it. I would see a cluster of short white coats shuffling through our science building and I began to tell myself, “That could be me.” I began to see myself in medical school, taking care of people, studying for the long haul, and I was at peace with it, even excited about it. Within a few months, it was as if there had never even been another choice. This was what I was meant to do.

From the beginning of this long journey, I knew this was God’s plan for me, obviously not something I came to on my own. And every time I hit a road bump (from a failing grade—yes, those happened—to being belittled by a surgeon to staying up 30 hours straight), I knew I wasn’t doing this by my strength. I knew I wasn’t alone. God had foreseen this when I was a scared little freshman, and He knew I could it.

So thank you, Fr. Schloemer, for those four letters and your humble “suggestion”. It changed my life.