In June of 1989, at the urging of several co-workers, I took the certification exam to become a certified medical assistant. At the time, you had to have either graduated from an accredited medical assistant program or have worked as a medical assistant for a year. It was at that time that I found out that the Colorado College of Medical and Dental Careers had led me astray, as they were not an accredited school. I was a little bit wild, but in the long run I guess it didn’t matter, because I had been working in the field long enough to still take the exam. Now, though, they have changed that policy, and you have to be a graduate of an accredited school to take the test. Again, this is a much longer story than that and it would require the insertion of my opinion on bureaucracy. And, well, as you should have already guessed, we aren’t going to go there.
The closest place they offered the exam was in Marshfield, but as luck would have it, I had a friend living there at the time. I drove down the night before and spent the night with her and her sister. So, of course, we had a little bit of wine and I stayed up too late, with my study guides unopened in my lap.
When I walked into the room at the technical school where they offered the test, it didn’t take long to realize that everyone else taking the exam had just graduated from the program at that school. And their instructor was the preceptor for the test.
“Oh, crap,” I thought. Then, when I was half-way done taking the test, the lights went out. I’m not kidding you. Of course, it didn’t bother too many of the others taking the test, because they were already done with it.
I still passed with flying colors. At the time, I was pretty pleased with myself. Now, however, I don’t know. I don’t know if “CMA” are the only initials I want after my name for the rest of my life.