From Kenya to Scotland to Cardiology: How My All-In Gamble Led Me Back on the Path to My Dream

My lifelong dream of becoming a cardiologist led me across continents, a relentless pursuit filled with obstacles and doubt. The stakes were high, the path uncertain, yet at a crucial crossroads, I gambled everything—a leap of faith to reclaim the dream I almost lost.

You know those moments in life when they say, 'everything changed?' Mine started on a train platform in Edinburgh, Scotland, riding south to Nottingham, England.

I had my camera in hand, attending a Commonwealth Scholars conference in November 2015. It was a windy weekend, and much doubt was swirling in my head.

It had been 3 months living in Edinburgh, taking graduate classes at Queen Margaret University. In truth, I hadn't come to Scotland for only the Master's Degree in Global Health. Nope. I also wanted to practice medicine in the UK and train to become a cardiologist.

You know when you make plans without complete knowledge and find yourself surprised—almost caught off-guard? Though I'd already attempted the first of the UK medical licensing exams, PLAB Part 1, something wasn't sitting right.

Everywhere, I saw brilliant African doctors stuck—just hanging in limbo for years and years, hoping for a residency slot to open up in a system that felt anything but fair. I was from Kenya, where I'd already put off my specialty training plans for too long. I wasn't about to waste more precious years.

That's when a distinct sense of uncertainty kicked in, and doubts intensified. Should I tough it out in England? Network like crazy? Or was it time to cut my losses?

I remembered those US doctors I'd met back during medical school rotations. Something about their system seemed more apparent, even if their exams were notoriously brutal.

They called the US exams the USMLEs—three whole steps of pure medical knowledge torture. It's expensive as heck, too. Not to mention, I was drowning in my Master's program. I barely had time to breathe, let alone study for American medical boards.

Standing there in Nottingham, with the breeze playing with my collar (England was so freaking cold compared to back home!), I made a choice that probably looked insane from the outside.

"Alright," I whispered as my classmate took a picture of me. "America it is."

I registered for the USMLE Step 1 right that night. Amid a busy season, I scrambled for three months to prepare for USMLE Step 1 (a super tough text) and booked a return train ride to Manchester for the exam. Boom, a new course was set, and I was gripped by the bubbling excitement that had kicked in immediately after I registered. However, there was also a bite of anxiety gnawing at me, like a starving dog.

Though anxiety and my already busy schedule threatened to overwhelm me, I found ways to stay grounded—keep my head down. Sometimes, you jump because you see the ledge, not because you're 100% sure you'll land on your feet.

Let me tell you, those months were a blur. Occasional all-nighters in the university library, coffee coursing continually through my veins, and my Master's thesis looming glaringly over it all. Friends told me I was nuts.

"Have a backup plan!" they'd say.

But that's not me. I'm an "all-in" kind of person. Sometimes, it pays off; sometimes, you crash and burn. But often, I never regret giving it my all.

Exam day finally came. The train ride to Manchester was quiet; it felt as though I was riding to a delivery room. I woke up early, took a light breakfast, and, like sheep to slaughter, I brought myself to face the beast of an exam.

Tell you what? That eight-hour test felt like time travel. I stepped out dazed, barely remembering my train ride back. I barely had enough time to visit the places I had intended to, including the famed stadiums.

Weeks later, the results arrived—I'd crushed it, way higher than I'd even hoped. That's when things got... interesting. Suddenly, momentum propelled me forward.

USMLE Step 2CK? After four weeks of intense studying, I signed up. Masters dissertation AND conferences in Nairobi and Cape Town? Check and check.

Then came the ultimate hurdle. I had to fly to Los Angeles, dead broke, for the clinical skills exam. I had zero financial wiggle room. Fueled by sheer will and a dwindling bank account, I boarded that plane for the 11-hour flight to LA.

Eight months of non-stop studying and hustle had left me wrung out, but the path lay before me. I had burnt the boats. No turning back!

Two months later, my time in Scotland came to an end. When I finally touched down back in Kenya, my pockets were as empty as my energy levels. But deep down, maybe mixed with a bit of leftover jet lag delirium, there was a flicker of something new: hope.

In truth, this whole American dream thing was a long shot. But I'd taken the first steps. The rest? Well, only time will tell, and as I come close to finishing my cardiology fellowship, time continues to tell.