The Rumanian Solution

Armand Braun of Ridgewood, N.J., compiled a respectable B-plus average in pre-med studies at New York University. But like tens of thousands of other young Americans each year, he was turned down by medical schools. Still determined to become a doctor, Braun did what an increasing number of rejectees do each year: he looked abroad. Yet instead of going to Italy, Mexico or Belgium (TIME, April 16, 1973), he joined the small but growing cadre of Americans who are seeking their M.D.s in Communist Rumania.

Their choice of Rumania is no accident. After the warming of relations between Washington and Bucharest a few years ago, Rumania decided to help a handful of Americans pursue medical studies there--a move that would presumably win friends and expand Rumanian influence in the U.S. The experiment seems to be working. One of the first Americans to be recruited, Abraham Jaeger of New York City, has done so well since his arrival in 1972 that--though he is still a student--the Rumanian government has encouraged him to attend international scientific conferences. Jaeger is no longer lonesome for countrymen: there are now 86 Americans studying in Rumania's two main medical schools, in Bucharest and Cluj.

Relatively Lenient. Rumania's attractions are obvious. Though European experts give Rumanian medical training high marks, admission requirements for Americans are relatively lenient. Until this year, when the Rumanians began demanding at least two years of preparatory college. Americans were accepted directly out of secondary school. It was this lure that attracted Raoul Mendelovice at age 17--immediately after his graduation from New York City's highly regarded Bronx High School of Science with an impressive 97% average. Now in his second year of the six-year Rumanian medical program, Mendelovice notes that he will be finishing up just when his friends back in the U.S. are beginning to apply for admission to medical schools. "By the time I'm 25," he adds confidently, "I will be a much better doctor."

Rumania offers other practical advantages for American medical students. Room, board, tuition and incidental expenses amount to only about $3,000 a year, perhaps a third of the cost of attending a private medical school in the U.S. Money also goes further for entertainment. The best opera seat costs no more than $1.50, a sumptuous meal only $3. Perhaps because of their spending power, the Americans (some of Rumanian descent and thus far mostly men) have no trouble attracting female companions. One student told TIME Correspondent David Aikman that he had so many Rumanian girl friends he could hardly fit them all into the twelve-hour days and six-day weeks of his busy class and lab schedule.

Still, there are shortcomings. By American standards, living conditions are spartan. The students are crowded three into a small room, and until recently stand-up "Turkish" toilets were de rigueur. Nor do the Americans ever forget that they are in a Communist state. Because Bucharest shuts down early, explains Ray Derderian, another New Yorker, "the cops stop you on the street at midnight and ask for your identification." Americans must learn to avoid sensitive political topics, except with the most intimate of Rumanian friends. Finally, there is red tape everywhere. Even so simple a chore as picking up a parcel from the U.S. at the post office can take up a whole day.

Heavy Dose. By contrast, the quality of their training receives nothing but praise from the Americans. Professors are extremely patient, ready to explain subtle points after a lecture rather than rushing off. (Many of the students learned Rumanian at home, others picked it up quickly because it is a Romance language, similar to Portuguese and Italian.) From the start, the students get a heavy dose of real medicine. Within two weeks they are cutting up cadavers; by the end of their first year they are treating patients. When a major earthquake struck Bucharest last March, all medical students in their second year or above were mobilized to help out in local hospitals. Derderian recalls that he was called upon to inject a stimulant directly into the heart of a cardiac patient. The students also note that because Rumanian doctors lack access to some of the sophisticated technology available in the U.S., they must rely more on their own skills to diagnose disease. Says one admiring American: "In not having highly advanced machinery here, you develop medical feelings."

Homecoming will not be easy for the Rumanian-trained M.D.s. They will have to pass a tough special exam administered by the Philadelphia-based Educational Commission for Foreign Medical Graduates before they can go on to the traditional internship in a U.S. hospital. But because they are already taking rigorous oral exams three times a year, the Americans in Bucharest and Cluj are confident that they will fare well upon their return. Some feel that they will even have an edge in clinical experience over their American-educated colleagues. That optimism will be put to the test next year when the first sizable batch of "Rumanian" doctors arrives back in the U.S.

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