- Joined
- May 20, 2005
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Hi everyone, this is my first post. I think I'm on the right track with my statement, but let me know if it gets bogged down anywhere, or if there is some point where you stop reading please tell me where that was.
Thanks
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COLLEGE I, HISTORY: I was 18 years old, right out of high school. I arrived on campus with vague notions about learning who I was and who I wanted to be and about becoming a responsible member of society. Mainly, I was excited to play college soccer, and I went because I was expected to go. Academics were not my priority.
I majored in History and loved my courses in Greek and Roman art and archaeology, medieval Europe, African-American History, and athletic training. I spent a great semester at the Smithsonian, helping to build a permanent exhibit that I hope my kids will see some day. I learned things that I think will make me a good doctor, and I grew in ways that probably can't be quantified by a letter or percentage. I learned to see things holistically and to think analytically. I learned to listen. I learned to work and live with diverse people and to appreciate our differences. I learned that nearly all issues are complex, and I began to see life as a fascinating, unfolding process, replete with opportunities and the challenge to make the most of them.
CHOOSING MEDICINE: My mom is a doctor, a dermatologist. I've worked in her office off-and-on for three years. I love what she does, working with people, helping people, not the vague, indirect way of politics or most civil service, but the concrete "Thank you, Dr. Jacobsen, for making me better." Still, I didn't think it was for me, and I really couldn't handle blood, not even fake TV blood, after falling off a cliff at age nine.
I suppose a two-step reaction changed my mind. I remember the exact moment. With a warm sea-breeze on my face, I gazed out at the immense blackness of a Caribbean night, thinking about what I wanted to do after college. It occurred to me that I wanted to answer the question of what I did for a living with pride, not with an excuse. I wanted to make a difference, and I knew I could do that as a doctor.
The second step began months later on a bright fall afternoon. The sun was shining, and the grass was a deep green. Coach of a high school soccer team, I watched from the sideline as a nightmare unfolded. Our star player and senior team captain lay on the ground, tripped from behind and struggling to stand up without the aid of his now useless left arm. Far surpassing my concern about wins and losses, sectional match-ups, or regional rankings, I just wanted Noah, my little brother and best friend, to be okay. I wanted to make my brother's pain go away.
Dr. Ken Renner's son played on our team. Dr. Renner cared for Noah's shattered collarbone and invited me to join him in the OR to watch surgeries and to overcome my fear of blood. After the first visit I was hooked. The early mornings and long years of schooling ahead seemed totally worth it as I watched Dr. Renner use his hands to make broken bodies whole: knee replacements, hip replacements, rotator cuff repairs, each procedure so amazing in its precision and acceptance by the body. I'd always enjoyed working with my hands, building and fixing things from LEGO blocks, model airplanes, and fishing line to guitar strings, leaky toilets, and jammed sailing gear at sea. Now, with sudden clarity, I saw that the same dexterity I'd been using all along for more mundane pursuits could be used to mend the human body. I drove home exhilarated, singing out loud.
I chose then to work toward medical school, to garner the knowledge I would need to put my hands to work. I want to apply my skills, wits, and hands to solve problems and make people's lives more livable. Doing that, I think I'll feel good about the impact of my life (who knows, maybe even when I'm on call).
And that was enough to get me going, full speed ahead.
COLLEGE II, PRE-MED: I returned to college to take nine pre-med courses. This time college was different. I had focus and a concrete goal: to do all I could to become a doctor, not just any doctor, but the best doctor I could be. Nights of memorizing reactions and solving problem sets became standard events in my life, entered into with excitement and interest, not because I had to, but because I chose to. I learned to expect excellence of myself in the classroom: always prepared, always inquisitive, and always ready to attempt an answer.
This spring, as I was walking home from a day volunteering at Yale Med School, it dawned on me that I had become the kind of student that I had occasionally envied and always admired: on top of things and full of enthusiasm. "How does she know that?" I would think, or "Where does he find time to do all of the readings?" I've found the answer, my answer at least, and it's pretty simple. After I made my future in medicine my goal, the top priority in my day-to-day life, there was always time to do the readings . . . and I found them more interesting, more engaging, than I ever would have guessed.
EPILOGUE: Death. Recent events provide powerful daily reaffirmations of my goal. Two people gone, one seemingly timeless, the other seemingly invincible, both so full of joy, passion, and life. In their absence, I am constantly reminded of how awesome it is to be alive. If through my work, I can add good years or evendays to the lives of those who want to live, I know I will walk away fulfilled.
Thanks
-------------------
COLLEGE I, HISTORY: I was 18 years old, right out of high school. I arrived on campus with vague notions about learning who I was and who I wanted to be and about becoming a responsible member of society. Mainly, I was excited to play college soccer, and I went because I was expected to go. Academics were not my priority.
I majored in History and loved my courses in Greek and Roman art and archaeology, medieval Europe, African-American History, and athletic training. I spent a great semester at the Smithsonian, helping to build a permanent exhibit that I hope my kids will see some day. I learned things that I think will make me a good doctor, and I grew in ways that probably can't be quantified by a letter or percentage. I learned to see things holistically and to think analytically. I learned to listen. I learned to work and live with diverse people and to appreciate our differences. I learned that nearly all issues are complex, and I began to see life as a fascinating, unfolding process, replete with opportunities and the challenge to make the most of them.
CHOOSING MEDICINE: My mom is a doctor, a dermatologist. I've worked in her office off-and-on for three years. I love what she does, working with people, helping people, not the vague, indirect way of politics or most civil service, but the concrete "Thank you, Dr. Jacobsen, for making me better." Still, I didn't think it was for me, and I really couldn't handle blood, not even fake TV blood, after falling off a cliff at age nine.
I suppose a two-step reaction changed my mind. I remember the exact moment. With a warm sea-breeze on my face, I gazed out at the immense blackness of a Caribbean night, thinking about what I wanted to do after college. It occurred to me that I wanted to answer the question of what I did for a living with pride, not with an excuse. I wanted to make a difference, and I knew I could do that as a doctor.
The second step began months later on a bright fall afternoon. The sun was shining, and the grass was a deep green. Coach of a high school soccer team, I watched from the sideline as a nightmare unfolded. Our star player and senior team captain lay on the ground, tripped from behind and struggling to stand up without the aid of his now useless left arm. Far surpassing my concern about wins and losses, sectional match-ups, or regional rankings, I just wanted Noah, my little brother and best friend, to be okay. I wanted to make my brother's pain go away.
Dr. Ken Renner's son played on our team. Dr. Renner cared for Noah's shattered collarbone and invited me to join him in the OR to watch surgeries and to overcome my fear of blood. After the first visit I was hooked. The early mornings and long years of schooling ahead seemed totally worth it as I watched Dr. Renner use his hands to make broken bodies whole: knee replacements, hip replacements, rotator cuff repairs, each procedure so amazing in its precision and acceptance by the body. I'd always enjoyed working with my hands, building and fixing things from LEGO blocks, model airplanes, and fishing line to guitar strings, leaky toilets, and jammed sailing gear at sea. Now, with sudden clarity, I saw that the same dexterity I'd been using all along for more mundane pursuits could be used to mend the human body. I drove home exhilarated, singing out loud.
I chose then to work toward medical school, to garner the knowledge I would need to put my hands to work. I want to apply my skills, wits, and hands to solve problems and make people's lives more livable. Doing that, I think I'll feel good about the impact of my life (who knows, maybe even when I'm on call).
And that was enough to get me going, full speed ahead.
COLLEGE II, PRE-MED: I returned to college to take nine pre-med courses. This time college was different. I had focus and a concrete goal: to do all I could to become a doctor, not just any doctor, but the best doctor I could be. Nights of memorizing reactions and solving problem sets became standard events in my life, entered into with excitement and interest, not because I had to, but because I chose to. I learned to expect excellence of myself in the classroom: always prepared, always inquisitive, and always ready to attempt an answer.
This spring, as I was walking home from a day volunteering at Yale Med School, it dawned on me that I had become the kind of student that I had occasionally envied and always admired: on top of things and full of enthusiasm. "How does she know that?" I would think, or "Where does he find time to do all of the readings?" I've found the answer, my answer at least, and it's pretty simple. After I made my future in medicine my goal, the top priority in my day-to-day life, there was always time to do the readings . . . and I found them more interesting, more engaging, than I ever would have guessed.
EPILOGUE: Death. Recent events provide powerful daily reaffirmations of my goal. Two people gone, one seemingly timeless, the other seemingly invincible, both so full of joy, passion, and life. In their absence, I am constantly reminded of how awesome it is to be alive. If through my work, I can add good years or evendays to the lives of those who want to live, I know I will walk away fulfilled.
......
