I still often think back to the moment I told my parents I got into medicine. I didn’t let anything slip the entire day because I didn’t want that moment to be shared over the phone; we ate dinner, almost silently; I made them both their respective tea and coffee; we sat down in the living room, and I took a deep breath, and I started off with the news of not getting into Calgary, and then finally, the good news. My dad shed real tears.
It’s nice to think that in that moment, I had made them truly, profoundly proud of me. It felt like the first step in an eternal endowment of the gratitude of I owe them in return.