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Growing up I wanted to be an architect, until my dad, Dr. Bruce Murphy, brought me to observe my first surgery. For hours, I watched as he debrided burnt flesh and grafted the wounds of a man with 3rd degree circumferential burns on both legs. From this initial experience, I began volunteering in the burn unit, assisting the nursing staff with daily dressing changes.
Long story short... my dad was my inspiration to become a physician. He never pushed me into the profession, but as I began to discover my own sense of calling he was my greatest support.
He encouraged me when I was exhausted from studying for the MCAT, he applauded me when I got my scores, he supported me financially as I travelled to interviews. When the last application cycle didn't go as well as we hoped, he encouraged me to reapply, helped me strengthen my personal statement, and told me not to give up.
He has anticipated news from medical schools with me. Every rejection I got, he was disappointed with me but told me to have hope.
The day I got my acceptance to UCLA School of Medicine, my dad was the first person I called. He was so excited and proud. He made me call the admissions office to get the date for the White Coat Ceremony, so he could put it down on his calendar and make plans to be there, cheering me on.
Last Saturday, I was on a well-deserved vacation in Atlanta, when I got a call from my brother that my dad had suffered a heart attack and was in emergency surgery. I couldn't get any flights from Atlanta to Des Moines, where he lived, so I rented a car, and drove as fast as I could to get here. 15 hours later, I arrived at the hospital to find my dad connected to a ventilator, dialysis machine, and numerous IVs.
Initially, he was heavily sedated, but after a few days he was more alert. I would sit at his bedside and talk to him, and he'd squeeze my hand to acknowledge what I was saying. His doctors were amazed at how much he was fighting to stay alive, although they told us that his body was shutting down, his kidneys had stopped functioning, and his heart only had 10% function.
This morning, his blood pressure dropped, and his breathing was so distressed that we made the decision as a family to give him medication to make him comfortable. On the advice of his physicians, we ended the extraordinary measures that were keeping him alive. He was fighting to stay with us, but his body was shutting down and there was nothing we could do.
With me holding his right hand, my brother Jason holding his left, and my mom at his feet, my dad slowly drifted away at 2:45pm today. He was so calm and peaceful.
I'm thankful for my dad's inspiration and that I could be there with him at the end. I'm going to miss my dad so much. I'm so sad that he won't be able to go through the med school journey with me and encourage me along the way. Yet, I'm so thankful that he knew before he died that I'd been accepted to UCLA.
Thanks Dad for everything... I miss you already... You inspired me... Your patients loved you, and I hope when I'm a doctor that I can have your same sincerity, attentiveness, and reassuring sense of humor.
Dr. Bruce J Murphy Feb 10, 1950 - March 30, 2007
Long story short... my dad was my inspiration to become a physician. He never pushed me into the profession, but as I began to discover my own sense of calling he was my greatest support.
He encouraged me when I was exhausted from studying for the MCAT, he applauded me when I got my scores, he supported me financially as I travelled to interviews. When the last application cycle didn't go as well as we hoped, he encouraged me to reapply, helped me strengthen my personal statement, and told me not to give up.
He has anticipated news from medical schools with me. Every rejection I got, he was disappointed with me but told me to have hope.
The day I got my acceptance to UCLA School of Medicine, my dad was the first person I called. He was so excited and proud. He made me call the admissions office to get the date for the White Coat Ceremony, so he could put it down on his calendar and make plans to be there, cheering me on.
Last Saturday, I was on a well-deserved vacation in Atlanta, when I got a call from my brother that my dad had suffered a heart attack and was in emergency surgery. I couldn't get any flights from Atlanta to Des Moines, where he lived, so I rented a car, and drove as fast as I could to get here. 15 hours later, I arrived at the hospital to find my dad connected to a ventilator, dialysis machine, and numerous IVs.
Initially, he was heavily sedated, but after a few days he was more alert. I would sit at his bedside and talk to him, and he'd squeeze my hand to acknowledge what I was saying. His doctors were amazed at how much he was fighting to stay alive, although they told us that his body was shutting down, his kidneys had stopped functioning, and his heart only had 10% function.
This morning, his blood pressure dropped, and his breathing was so distressed that we made the decision as a family to give him medication to make him comfortable. On the advice of his physicians, we ended the extraordinary measures that were keeping him alive. He was fighting to stay with us, but his body was shutting down and there was nothing we could do.
With me holding his right hand, my brother Jason holding his left, and my mom at his feet, my dad slowly drifted away at 2:45pm today. He was so calm and peaceful.
I'm thankful for my dad's inspiration and that I could be there with him at the end. I'm going to miss my dad so much. I'm so sad that he won't be able to go through the med school journey with me and encourage me along the way. Yet, I'm so thankful that he knew before he died that I'd been accepted to UCLA.
Thanks Dad for everything... I miss you already... You inspired me... Your patients loved you, and I hope when I'm a doctor that I can have your same sincerity, attentiveness, and reassuring sense of humor.
Dr. Bruce J Murphy Feb 10, 1950 - March 30, 2007
Your dad sounds like he was an amazing man.
