The result I'm thinking of was my first attempt at the university entrance exam in Cairo, when I was eighteen. The exam is called the Thanaweya Amma, and your score decides which university faculty you can enter, so the pressure is enormous.
I'd always wanted to study pharmacy, and I needed a very high score. I'd studied hard, and my teachers thought I'd get it. On results day, the whole family was waiting while my older brother checked online. I'd scored well, but about two per cent below the cut-off for pharmacy. I remember staring at the screen and feeling completely numb.
For the first few days, I reacted badly. I stayed in my room, didn't answer my friends' messages, and felt that I'd let my parents down, especially as my father had paid for private lessons. It felt like my whole future had disappeared because of two per cent.
What changed my perspective was a conversation with my uncle, who is a pharmacist. He told me that he'd also missed his first choice and that the subject you study matters less than what you do with it. He suggested I look at chemistry, which I could enter with my score, and then specialise later. I took his advice. Now I'm in my third year, and I've discovered that I love research far more than I would have loved working in a pharmacy. Looking back, the disappointment taught me that one result doesn't define you, and that the path you didn't plan can sometimes be the better one.