“I’m in pre-med,” your freshman year roommate will loudly gloat before anyone even asks. Somehow, you’re stuck watching Bob’s Burgers and gorging yourself on Easy Mac while he gets laid EVERY night by some acting major who keeps telling him his studies are, “like, sooooo interesting” just because she thinks he’s gonna be driving a Porsche at 25 and escaping to Jamaica on the weekends.
But, fast forward just one year, and your freshman year roommate is living in his parents’ basement, probably dealing meth now or something. Maybe it’s crack. You don’t really know. Why? Pre-med. “PRE-MED MADE ME DO IT,” he’ll scream at his therapist.
So, essentially, your freshman roommate learned the hard way that the life science buildings at Purdue are where students go to die. No, seriously. Your chem TA won’t tell you about the bodies they scrape off the floor of Brown Laboratory every night. The coroner makes up some phony story to console the grieving parents, but anyone who knows anything knows that 90% of them are stress-fueled caffeine overdoses. Do you know how much caffeine you have to drink to overdose? The answer: a lot.
You leave high school thinking, “It won’t be that bad. What’s a few science classes? I took bio once my freshman year of high school, I can totally be a doctor responsible for keeping actual people alive even though I killed my mom’s house plants when I forgot to water them.”
But, the reality that your mid-pubescent high school mind failed to realize is a harsh one. Pre-med classes give their exams in Elliott, where you will never be able to enjoy a student concert ever again because now you have PTSD from all your pre-med exams. Whoever is proctoring the exam will walk around and pass out tissues, because pre-med students know that what Taylor Swift actually meant was, “He’s the reason for the teardrops on my Scantron.”
Even if you somehow survive one, two, or even THREE years of pre-med, there’s still no reason for hope. Just as you think, “Maybe I’ve got this!” organic chemistry is gonna run up to you and kick you in the balls, bang your mom, and steal yo girl.
Of course, your advisor knows the realities of pre-med and will tell you nothing. Only when you step into her office with burn marks, battle scars, hobo clothes, and hair that’s falling out, to announce, “I’m fucking dropping pre-med now, Karen,” will she pull out the champagne and laugh, “It was only a matter of time!” Karen sucks.
The only people who successfully make it through 4+ years of pre-med (because the seething hellfire doesn’t end with your time at Purdue. You still have to pass the MCAT and find a medical school that will welcome your shivering, sobbing corpse into their chokehold) are those who have sold their soul to Satan. SO, yes — your childhood physician is most definitely in the Illuminati. Hope you’re excited to join the club, pre-med students.