Today marked the beginning of a three-month long contract at Long Island Community Hospital on Long Island for me. It is small but bustling hospital in the East of New York. Before getting started with everything this morning when we started, we were given a test on EPIC EMR software. This wasn’t just a routine task; it was a test to specifically measure our proficiency of the electronic documentation software giant. The stakes were clear: if you didn’t pass, you’d have to attend a grueling nine-hour live class on Wednesday the 25th 2024. This was not hard but the sitting and daunting repetitive work was something I couldn't imagine doing.
Anyone
who knows me understands I hate sitting still over a long period of time. In fact, I’m still amazed how I
managed to sit through hundreds of hours of lectures in college. When I learned
about the consequences of failing this test, I was determined to avoid that
nine-hour pain of sitting at all costs. I sat down, did my best, and hoped that I
wouldn’t have to suffer through what I imagine is a torturous day of lectures
and software training.
However, this experience got me thinking deeply: life is full of tests. From the day we’re born
to the day we die, we are constantly tested in one way or another. The fear of
failure often looms large over many of us, and it can cause anxiety, even hysteria,
especially when we feel unprepared.
In
college, I didn’t fail many tests, but I certainly had a few I didn’t do as
well on. There’s something about the anxiety that tests provoke. I know I feel
it when I have to take a test I was not ready for. The trick for me has always
been to approach tests taking like a game, a challenge to be beaten, like playing an
online game where the stakes are high but the strategy is simple.
But
not all tests are the same.
While
academic or job-related tests can be retaken, the ones that truly hit home are
medical tests. These tests often come with life-changing consequences. I’ve
seen patients and even colleagues go through a whirlwind of emotions, waiting for
the results of medical tests that could drastically alter the course of their
lives. It’s a different kind of anxiety, one that doesn’t go away after you
leave the exam room. The outcome of a medical test could lead to a diagnosis
that reshapes your future, unlike any test for a promotion or certification.
For instance, I
had a friend who once confided in me about how he consistently failed his drug
tests anytime he was about to get a job. He knew he wouldn’t pass, yet he couldn’t stop the root cause of that failure. His addiction was
overpowering, and no test could change that. The results could almost always be predicted. This was a battle far more
significant than any academic test, the test that alters life itself. Addictions are demons many of us face, and
failing a drug test only adds to the burden.
So,
why do we put so much weight on tests?
Is it because they serve as an easy metric for evaluation? Personally, I’ve never believed tests are the best measure of intelligence or skill. Ever met a very intelligence, high scorer of tests who couldn't engage in coherent logical conversations? I do. Tests can certainly tell you what you know at a particular moment, but they don’t account for creativity, emotional intelligence, or perseverance. I could be wrong but hey, my opinions are all mine in Ronnie's World.
But I want to know, what
about you? How have you handled test-taking anxieties in the past, present, and
even what you anticipate in the future?
Drop me a comment — I’d love to hear your
stories.
Caio!
Yours Pal, Ron
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