Recently I have been very relieved that Mark decided to be a chiropractor instead of an eye surgeon, which was part of what convinced me to marry him in the first place. (Exaggeration.)
I can not imagine seven more years of boards-like stress on him.
Mark is smart. Very. He has gotten ridiculously good grades all through school, and has still had enough time to make memories with Mac and I. And work. And help around the house. And do church things, and be with friends, and travel to see family, and be on all sorts of ridiculous sports fantasy leagues.
But three consecutive days of all-day boards tests (something like 100,000 questions or so) are a really, really big bummer. Mark has always been one to keep as many of his emotions on the inside as possible, but this time ... I could feel the effects. (Or maybe we've just been married long enough now that I can finally figure out a bit of what's going on in that Gunn noggin' of his without as much overanalyzing.)
Somehow he made it through, and onward we go! Results won't come till Halloween, and he recently told me that he'll kill himself if he has to take them again ... but I just don't think it's possible for him to score less than 50% on a test of any kind. I guess we'll see.
What's next? Meeting with chiropractors to figure out his internship for next semester, finishing his required amount of adjustments and service hours to graduate, and finally licensing through one last set of boards that will require him to treat fake patients.
Good work, lover.
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