It was March 9, 2026. I remember the moment vividly. I woke up with a mix of excitement and hope, about to open the email that would determine whether I had matched into residency. Deep down, I believed I had done everything right. During my external rotations, I gave more than 100 percent. If I was asked for one thing, I delivered two, and I made sure they were done exceptionally well. I worked relentlessly to prove that I belonged in an environment where I could grow and contribute.

At 7:30 a.m. Pacific time, the email arrived. “Unfortunately, you did not match.” For a moment, it did not feel real. I reread the email, checking my name, my ID, hoping it was meant for someone else. It was not. It was me. I felt completely shattered.

What made it even harder was that I had to go to work in less than one hour. I did not know how to process the news, let alone function normally. I called my parents and told them how disappointed I felt not just for myself, but for them too. I never imagined I would be in this position. I tried to hold myself together, fighting back tears, forcing myself to accept the reality.

Later that day, my school advisors tried to reach me, but I could not answer immediately as we had a scheduled surgery, and I needed to stay focused on the patient. When I finally called them back in the afternoon, they confirmed what I already knew. I had not matched. They urged me to act quickly. The timeline was tight, and I needed to explore available programs, make decisions, and reach out. But I was overwhelmed trying to process rejection, disappointment, and grief, all while being expected to pivot immediately and move forward.

That same week, I also had a trip to Washington, D.C. planned. I had to juggle my clinical responsibilities, travel logistics, and now the pressure of reapplying all at once. That night, I reviewed a few programs. The next day, I spoke with my advisors and identified programs I was interested in. They helped me find contact information, and I reached out personally. During my trip, even at the airport, I scheduled and completed short interviews. What surprised me the most was how many programs responded positively. Within a short time, multiple programs expressed interest in me and even offered residency positions.

That is when I realized something important: There was nothing wrong with my application. My grades, experiences, and extracurriculars were strong. The issue was not my qualifications, it was my strategy. When I reflected on my previous match cycle, I discovered my mistake. I had only ranked three programs, despite rotating at six and interviewing at nine. I simply did not fully understand how the ranking system worked. That lack of knowledge cost me my match.

The second time, I knew I could not afford the same mistake. But I was also exhausted. I did not want to keep reaching out endlessly or risk making another wrong decision. So, I did something different. I turned to AI. I gathered all the programs I had interviewed with, the ones I was interested in, and those that had shown interest in me. Using AI, I created a structured, objective ranking system, something I had not been able to do effectively on my own before. And this time, it worked.

Looking back, I realize something powerful: Sometimes, it is not about working harder, it is about having the right information and tools. As humans, we are limited by what we know. But with the right support, even from AI, we can bridge those gaps and make better decisions. This experience did not just change my outcome. It changed how I approach challenges entirely.

Camellia Russell is a medical student.