1/18/2021 0 Comments A day to rememberWhat makes an event memorable? How does your brain know that something special or important has happened? I have always had the fear that I will forget important memories, perhaps that partially drove me to seek a career in dementia research. Often when I find myself in what I consider a significant moment, I tell myself “please remember this”, as if I could turn up the synaptic firework, so that the symphony of the moment won’t be lost. Becoming a Doctor was the most important day in my life, which happened to be during a pandemic. For context, this is referred to as a “defense” in Sweden. a Sweden, you have a committee of three people and one “opponent” who examine your work, after which you publicly defend it in front of your supervisors (mentors), colleagues, friends, and family. After the defense, it’s common to have a party with speeches, gift exchange, and an opportunity for your colleagues to embarrass you with a silly game or dare. I had been looking forward to this day for 4 years, ever since I attended my first defense. For me it was the equivalent to getting married to someone you love dearly, except my blushing bride was science. My defense was scheduled to be in May 2020, and when the pandemic became a reality, I was busy writing my thesis. In a way, the self-isolation worked in my favour, I was cooped up in my tiny Stockholm apartment, writing all day and treating myself to an episode of the Great British Bake-Off with tea and cookies in the evenings. As they say, "t'was the best of times, t'was the worst of times". I slowly had to come to terms with the fact that all form of celebration had to be cancelled. The Lebanese catering (that I proudly managed to bargain a good price for) had to be cancelled, and the tequila had to be saved for another time. The university announced that defences should be carried out via Zoom. The image of my opponent and I having an intellectual exchange in front of an audience, was a terrifying and thrilling experience that I wouldn’t get. All in all, we were less than 10 people in the lecture hall, and I felt silly that we even booked this grand hall; the empty seats almost more intimidating than a crowd. I was extremely worried over my parents travelling to be present on the day, as they are both considered to be in the high-risk category. Even if they came by car, I kept thinking that if anything happened to them I could never live with that. I tried to convince them to stay at home and watch via Zoom, but there was no deterring them, this was equally of an important day for them as it was for me. The defense went as well as it could have, despite a few hiccups with technology. Overall I was at peace knowing I did my best. My opponent was extremely prepared and professional, considering it was 4.30 in the morning where she was in California. My parents were beaming with pride, my mother having that look on her face where I know she is seconds away from crying, which always makes me cry. After the defense, there was a very small celebration with champagne, and a few speeches. My closest colleagues were there, who had been with me during those 4 years of hardships, successes, tears, and laughter. Afterwards, I had an alfresco dinner with my family and partner. The day came and went, I became a Doctor and the world kept spinning. At first I couldn’t help being slightly bitter that I didn't get the celebration my colleagues had at their PhD defenses. I must admit that having that, maybe would have made the day more memorable and consolidated the feeling of achievement. I had been so lost in my own dissertation bubble, that when reality struck, I felt guilty and ashamed for feeling bitter in light of all that was endured and lost this year. I had to let go of what I expected that day to be. As someone who suffers from imposter syndrome, I have always looked for praise, claps, and “well-dones”. In my sub-conscious I probably thought that this one big day of celebrating my achievement would cure me of my imposter fears. If this experience has taught me anything, it is to not rely on extraneous confirmation of everything I do, but to recognize and internalize my achievements; which is a very big lesson. Looking back, it did feel special. When the nerves let go and I answered with confidence, I felt the fireworks in my head. Even if there was no cheering crowd, or a big party, my brain knew and acknowledged that this was a day to remember. Photo by Spenser Sembrat on Unsplash AUTHOR
Christina S. Dintica
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