My Gaokao Scores Are Out: Higher Than Expected, but Schools Are Few
Many friends who have been following my college entrance exam have been asking about my scores—thank you all for your concern. This year I scored 350: Chinese 99, English 70, mathematics 27, physics 21, chemistry 70, and biology 63. Without a car accident, and with two or three months of preparation, I might have reached around 450; but taking the exam cold, 350 was probably my limit.
My score is 50 points higher than my own highest estimate. After the exam I felt I might only get 200–300 points, most likely 220–240. But the actual score came out considerably higher than I had estimated. With this score I can get into a junior college (zhuanke); the cutoff scores for TCM or clinical-medicine junior colleges are not high, though this score certainly won't get me into a really good one. Still, for me this score is basically enough; any more would be wasted.
Years of medical practice have made me an especially cautious person who always underestimates himself. After the exam, when acquaintances asked me to estimate my score, I simply did not dare estimate high. The occupational habit of speaking cautiously and acting conservatively is now deeply ingrained; I no longer dare be brimming with confidence as I once was. Medical practice has again and again undermined my self-confidence—especially fighting against incurable diseases like cancer, where failure far outnumbers success, which makes me afraid not to be conservative.
This practical experience has indeed shaped my personality. Now, whatever I do, the first thing I think of is the worst possible outcome. I first accept the worst calmly, and then, when the real result comes out, it always brings me a little pleasant surprise.
The other thing that has made me happy these past two days is that the lymph nodes on one of my lymphoma patients are shrinking throughout. This young fellow from Hubei is currently in college. Before, I never dared hold out too much hope for his outcome or promise too much to him and his family, but now this response has shown us hope.
A few days ago this patient asked me whether he should take an opportunity to go to Germany as an exchange student. I hope to keep observing him for a while longer before deciding. I am delighted by his response; he is still very young and can now look forward to a brighter future and prepare to study in Europe. That I can let his life shine again after cancer is truly a rewarding thing. I am also grateful that the father and son have trusted me consistently; a physician's skill is forged by exactly such patients and their families.
I will go to school for a few years to improve myself comprehensively, hoping that when I emerge I will be a little more capable. I have always dreaded betraying the trust of patients and their families, yet, having chosen the hardest field—cancer—I am constantly betraying that trust. For years I have felt deeply indebted to those who trust me. Though I know that studying more may not raise outcomes to a very high level, learning more comprehensively will let me use multiple means to help patients and reduce mortality in the future, and that will ease my mind.
I am also considering whether to retake the exam next year, but most likely I won't wait another year—unless I receive no admission notice at all. Because even if I took it again next year, I might not do much better. My time is never my own; my workload is enormous and constantly saturated. Retaking next year would probably mean taking it cold again, with little real time for drilling. Better to enter a junior college, then advance to a bachelor's degree through self-study exams, and gradually obtain all the certificates I will need in my life: the integrated Chinese-Western medicine physician license, the psychiatry physician license, and a teacher qualification certificate. The reason I want a teacher's certificate is that I hope one day to teach everything I have learned to others.
I did not expect clinical medicine and TCM programs to become so fiercely competitive these past two years; the cutoff scores climb every year. When I planned to retake the gaokao a few years ago, my ideal score was 350, and now I have hit that ideal score. For someone like me who left school over twenty years ago and has no time to review, this is a realistic score. Back then 350 could get you into some very good medical junior colleges, but now that score basically only reaches the bottom-ranked schools; competition among medical programs grows ever fiercer.
Over the summer I will wait at home for the admission notice; once it arrives, I will go to school. Whenever I write this kind of article, I am in effect saying goodbye to some of my fellow patients— I know I will no longer have the energy to help them. Over the next five or six years I will keep studying and taking exams; using exams to drive learning will improve me well and comprehensively, so I have no regrets.
The thought that after fifty I can continue to explore the broader field of life sciences makes me happy from the bottom of my heart. I may still have a long time ahead of me, and I will proceed calmly and unhurriedly. Thank you all for your concern; I will not announce which school I plan to attend, because I don't want to be disturbed over the next few years. But rest assured: wherever I go to school, I will continue to update my articles every day as before.