medical education. I had seen the worst excesses of medical training and swore
there had to be a better way. I lucked into a job leading PIMS, which was Florida
State’s first-year program for medical students – and worked to revive its great
potential. I enjoy shaking things up, particularly when the status quo is denying
opportunities to deserving students. I had a moment of educational epiphany
that I refused to let go of. I love forming partnerships with people I respect. And
I’m stubborn as hell.
This book is a combination of new interviews and essays with transcripts of
oral histories, public presentations, feature stories and more. Pieced together,
they recreate those unparalleled days when we found ourselves trying to craft a
whole new approach to medical education – while walking on a tightrope with
no net below. Those were thrilling times.
But every time someone tells me, “Gee, that sounds so exciting!” – I respond
that excitement is often overrated. I’ve had enough excitement to last me several
lifetimes. I couldn’t be prouder of this college and of the people who worked
tirelessly with me to create it. And writing this book has brought back a flood
of golden memories. Yet, to be honest, it also has reminded me of how incredibly
difficult it was not just to give birth to this school but, more so, to drag the
LCME accreditors kicking and screaming into the 21st century.
Some years after the College of Medicine was born, I was invited to create
a new medical school at another university. “No,” I said, “it’s too hard. You’ve
got to put your whole heart and soul into it. It takes everything you have. It was
worth everything I had, but just once. Not again.”
The sad truth is that it shouldn’t have been so hard. The LCME reviewers
made it that way. They fought us every inch of the way. After we were denied
initial provisional accreditation, I told our students not to worry. But to myself I
was saying: “When I think how hard this is going to be, it takes my breath away.”
It was 18-hour days, day after day after week after week after week. It was worth
it but, my God, it was so hard.
As I say this, I’m crying. As a woman in a good ol’ boys’ world for much of
my life, I couldn’t really afford to cry. But a stroke in late 2018 has loosened my
iron plates. My poor co-workers aren’t quite sure what to make of crazy Myra
these days. I’m apt to start crying in midsentence. But it’s tough Scotch-Irish crying.
I just keep talking! And eventually the tears go away. I won’t let this stroke
beat me, just as I wouldn’t let the LCME beat me. As I said after we achieved
full accreditation: Failure was never an option. Hard as it was, I never had any
doubts.
Childhood taught me to be tough. We weren’t fancy people. My dad was shot
in a hunting accident and couldn’t work for two years. We got help from neighbors
and family, but the kids at school made fun of me because of the things I
had to do without. That’s where I got this smart mouth of mine. At the same
time, though, my mom was a faithful churchgoer. So was I until about 18. I
was in church eight days a week. I was best in my class at memorizing Scripture.
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