Q:To aid the Admissions Committee in learning more about you, please share your current influences and interest for pursuing a career in medicine.
The snowballs effect
I never had an innate yearn for a stethoscope; rather, my desire to become a doctor has been a journey. Today I recognize my influence, to pursue medicine, as my mother. Twenty years ago my mother, in Afghanistan, wanted to apply for medical school. She loved medicine because many people in Afghanistan, including my own family, were exposed to diseases that could be fatal if not correctly treated. In America, treating a small sickness such as the flu was as easy as going to the grocery store and choosing from a variety of medicines. In Afghanistan, however, resources were limited and very expensive for most, so people died as a result of not having simple remedies us, in America, took for granted. It had been my mother's ambition to eradicate these problems in war-torn countries. Though, my mother was unable to pursue her ambitions.
Yes, my mother was intelligent, abstract, motivated and contained the qualifications required for a medical student, but the only obstacle that stopped my mom from becoming a doctor was the fact that, in my country, the women had no rights to study or become a doctor. She was the only girl among her friends, in school, who had a dream that she would one day go to school and become a doctor. Her dreams were killed because she was not allowed to attend medical school. My mother tells me she had wanted to help the people in her country, she had wanted to make an accomplishment, but was never given the opportunity to-do so. Eventually, my mother moved to the United States and she, today, provides me the opportunities she and her friends were never provided. My mother never informed me of the experiences she had back home, but I was destined to find-out.
During middle school, my mother and I decided to find time for other things. We started to volunteer for two months as missionaries with the Afghan Center, going to various cities, on an aid mission. The mission was to collect money for the unprivileged, in Afghanistan, who were in great need for health care remedies, but were unable to afford the services. I loved it, learned a lot, being able to dedicate every hour to helping and teaching people of all nationalities, cultures and religions. Many of the friends I made among the people and the other missionaries are still very close, and the lessons I learned from all of my experiences affect my life every day.
In school, my classes included math and sciences (subjects I had never been interested in before)-out of curiosity, at first; then, to keep my options open. I actually enjoyed them, and managed to get good grades. Though, my love was for the literature, including writing guest editorials and articles for the school paper, and I was awarded the annual Award for Excellence in Literature from the English department. My activities were rounded out by tutoring students, and serving the school paper as the paper editor.
Then as a freshman, I was faced with a dangerous virus. The process of finding it required many examinations. When a general practitioner didn't find anything, he sent me to a specialist, who sent me to another, who sent me to another... none of whom could find a problem, yet all of whom charged my parents what seemed exorbitant fees. This experience soured me on the medical profession and medical school wasn't an option.
All of the skepticism changed upon my sophomore year, my activities with literature were occupied by my community services at a nearby hospital. I served the patients of my community as the emergency department hospitality volunteer. As a volunteer, my interests in people continued to grow. I noticed doctors who had found in "alternative" approaches to health, including preventive and Eastern medicine. Although a natural skeptic, it seemed to me that if something appears to work for rational, respectable people, it should be taken seriously-researched, to determine whether the benefit is merely psychological or not-contrary to the doctors I had met, who felt that if THEY didn't have it, it was "dangerous". This seemed narrow-minded; opposing the principles I understood "science" to be based upon.
Moreover, as a junior, I grew more fascinated by the health classes and medical cluster. Before I had noticed the sciences started to take a toll on my life. I found that my view of the medical establishment wasn't really accurate-there ARE those who care more about helping people than about the money or their intellectual pride.
Eventually, my mother decided to tell me about her experience in Afghanistan. I was mesmerized that my mother had even considered medical school in Afghanistan. I was shocked, but encouraged to know that my mother was fearless and was someone who had considered aiding people for the "alternative" reasons.
As you can see, my decision on becoming a doctor was never innate; rather, it was an exploration of me. It is great to know that my mother had never stopped me previously to inform me of her incomplete dream; she had allowed me to explore myself. I just never thought that I can be so mundane to her. Today, I know that for doctors the ideal of "saving lives" is not only for grant, but for service as well. My mother wanted to commit to that service and so do I.
The snowballs effect
I never had an innate yearn for a stethoscope; rather, my desire to become a doctor has been a journey. Today I recognize my influence, to pursue medicine, as my mother. Twenty years ago my mother, in Afghanistan, wanted to apply for medical school. She loved medicine because many people in Afghanistan, including my own family, were exposed to diseases that could be fatal if not correctly treated. In America, treating a small sickness such as the flu was as easy as going to the grocery store and choosing from a variety of medicines. In Afghanistan, however, resources were limited and very expensive for most, so people died as a result of not having simple remedies us, in America, took for granted. It had been my mother's ambition to eradicate these problems in war-torn countries. Though, my mother was unable to pursue her ambitions.
Yes, my mother was intelligent, abstract, motivated and contained the qualifications required for a medical student, but the only obstacle that stopped my mom from becoming a doctor was the fact that, in my country, the women had no rights to study or become a doctor. She was the only girl among her friends, in school, who had a dream that she would one day go to school and become a doctor. Her dreams were killed because she was not allowed to attend medical school. My mother tells me she had wanted to help the people in her country, she had wanted to make an accomplishment, but was never given the opportunity to-do so. Eventually, my mother moved to the United States and she, today, provides me the opportunities she and her friends were never provided. My mother never informed me of the experiences she had back home, but I was destined to find-out.
During middle school, my mother and I decided to find time for other things. We started to volunteer for two months as missionaries with the Afghan Center, going to various cities, on an aid mission. The mission was to collect money for the unprivileged, in Afghanistan, who were in great need for health care remedies, but were unable to afford the services. I loved it, learned a lot, being able to dedicate every hour to helping and teaching people of all nationalities, cultures and religions. Many of the friends I made among the people and the other missionaries are still very close, and the lessons I learned from all of my experiences affect my life every day.
In school, my classes included math and sciences (subjects I had never been interested in before)-out of curiosity, at first; then, to keep my options open. I actually enjoyed them, and managed to get good grades. Though, my love was for the literature, including writing guest editorials and articles for the school paper, and I was awarded the annual Award for Excellence in Literature from the English department. My activities were rounded out by tutoring students, and serving the school paper as the paper editor.
Then as a freshman, I was faced with a dangerous virus. The process of finding it required many examinations. When a general practitioner didn't find anything, he sent me to a specialist, who sent me to another, who sent me to another... none of whom could find a problem, yet all of whom charged my parents what seemed exorbitant fees. This experience soured me on the medical profession and medical school wasn't an option.
All of the skepticism changed upon my sophomore year, my activities with literature were occupied by my community services at a nearby hospital. I served the patients of my community as the emergency department hospitality volunteer. As a volunteer, my interests in people continued to grow. I noticed doctors who had found in "alternative" approaches to health, including preventive and Eastern medicine. Although a natural skeptic, it seemed to me that if something appears to work for rational, respectable people, it should be taken seriously-researched, to determine whether the benefit is merely psychological or not-contrary to the doctors I had met, who felt that if THEY didn't have it, it was "dangerous". This seemed narrow-minded; opposing the principles I understood "science" to be based upon.
Moreover, as a junior, I grew more fascinated by the health classes and medical cluster. Before I had noticed the sciences started to take a toll on my life. I found that my view of the medical establishment wasn't really accurate-there ARE those who care more about helping people than about the money or their intellectual pride.
Eventually, my mother decided to tell me about her experience in Afghanistan. I was mesmerized that my mother had even considered medical school in Afghanistan. I was shocked, but encouraged to know that my mother was fearless and was someone who had considered aiding people for the "alternative" reasons.
As you can see, my decision on becoming a doctor was never innate; rather, it was an exploration of me. It is great to know that my mother had never stopped me previously to inform me of her incomplete dream; she had allowed me to explore myself. I just never thought that I can be so mundane to her. Today, I know that for doctors the ideal of "saving lives" is not only for grant, but for service as well. My mother wanted to commit to that service and so do I.