personal statement...

My mother recently assigned me the task of sifting through a box of old papers to determine what would be worthwhile to preserve. Tossing aside miscellaneous announcements, report cards, and certificates, I found three spiral-bound notebooks filled in dark pencil with the deliberate and careful penmanship of someone who has just learned how to write. I read through some of my stories, laughing out loud at several, for who can understand how the mind of a child works? My earliest works of fiction showed my significant struggle with plot development and resolution. For instance, one story was about a princess who lived in a plastic castle that "broke once or twice" and was blown up by pirates while she was out picking berries and flowers. Regrettably, I was unable to restore the princess in her plastic castle to a happily-ever-after ending; the pirates left her with no home to which she could return, and "she is now a poor old Lady who has been dead for a Long time. The End." My aspirations of becoming a writer may have died with her, and it would be almost fifteen years later before I would select medicine as my career. However, the earliest evidence that I would one day enter the field of medicine may be found within the leaves of another notebook:

"Sometimes, they would get a cold or a viras [sic], but they would get over it."--Excerpt from "Mr. & Mrs. Clown," a short story from my third grade writing journal.

As an eight-year-old, I had already discovered one of the absolute truths of medicine: most patients will get better without any intervention. The challenge is to discern the patient who will benefit from a selected treatment from one that may suffer potential harm from the same selected treatment. I am fairly certain that as a young child, I did not understand the profundity of my observation. As a woman in her mid-twenties who is about to become a physician, I partially desire the story to read, "but then they would visit the doctor, who would heal them." Is this not the reason I have entered the field of medicine, to experience the joy of correctly diagnosing and treating a patient, followed by the instantly gratifying and dramatic response of recovery? In humility, I have come to recognize the limitations of the medical field; that sometimes, even with appropriate medical interventions, an ill person will not be healed, and many times, without any medical management at all, a person will spontaneously recover. This is the conundrum of primary care.
I did not always envision myself in a primary care vocation. As I rotated through the third-year clinical clerkships, I tried to keep my options open, but I found that I enjoyed my Internal Medicine and Pediatrics rotations the most. I thought about pursuing a career as an internist but felt that I would benefit from the variety of opportunities available in a combined Internal Medicine-Pediatrics program. Specifically, I look forward to building rapport with patients, whether children or adults, and maintaining that relationship throughout their lifetime. I am passionate about working with people, educating them regarding both their acute and chronic illnesses, and helping them to make informed decisions about treatment options. Training in internal medicine and pediatrics offers the best opportunities for me to meet this purpose. I am hoping to obtain a residency that will allow me to develop my skills as the primary physician for patients and encourage me as I learn how to better diagnose, treat, and care for patients.
I also have the desire to build my career in the academic setting, focusing on medical education. In a sense, teaching and practicing in the academic setting is more of a vocation rather than just a career, at least according to Joris Nauwelaers. Nauwelaers, author of the Wakley Prize Essay, "Eraritjaritjaka," for The Lancet in 2000, defines eraritjaritjaka as "an archaic, poetic expression in Aranda (an aboriginal tribe in Australia), which means: 'filled with desire for something that is lost.'" Nauwelaers talks about his nostalgia for a time when medicine was a profession that demanded a mentoring-type of teaching. The teachers became lifelong examples and felt responsible for the doctors they were making. According to Nauwelaers, now "...since teaching is seen as a mere nuisance, nobody feels responsible for medical education." I disagree with his cynical perspective and have been taught and mentored by teachers who have helped me organize my thoughts and ideas, thus optimizing my approach to patient care. They realized the impact their dedication to teaching made on the education of my classmates and me. I want to be a part of the field of academic medicine as it progresses toward the future and redeems the educational aspects that Nauwelaers worries may have become less of a focus, for redemption is an underlying theme in medicine.

"Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person." - Tennessee Williams