My twin sister Jessica and I had been on oddly Divergent paths since the moment we were born. I arrived first; she followed 6 minutes later. According to family lore, I was quiet and observant, while Jessica announced her arrival with strong, healthy cries. Perhaps that set the pattern for everything that followed.
Throughout our childhood in Cleveland, Jessica was the outgoing twin, the one who made friends easily and excelled at sports. I was quieter, more bookish, spending hours in our local library learning about everything from astronomy to zoology. Our parents attended every one of Jessica’s soccer games and dance recital; my science fair victories warranted a quick “good job, Audrey” and a pat on the head.
By High School, the pattern was firmly established. When we both announced our intentions to pursue medicine, our parents seemed thrilled for Jessica. For me, there were concerned conversations about the workload and whether I could handle the pressure.
“Medical school isn’t just about being smart, Audrey,” my father had warned. “It’s about determination and grit. Jessica has always pushed herself harder.”