Here is my common app essay, It (662 words) was a bit rushed so please feel free to suggest alternate vocabulary/grammar corrections as i decided at the last minute to scrap my previous common app essay. All suggestions are welcome and I will kindly do the same if needed :)
You could learn a lot about me by browsing my internet history. Apart from the multiple entries to facebook.com and my unrepressed habit of watching video to video on youtube, you would find a surfeit of results about medicine- from the effect of excess glucose consumption and its strong correlation with diabetes to the deletion of a chromosome that causes Huntington's. It was like a relay effect: one article led to the click of another and in no time I was on a little adventure of my own.
It is no surprise then, that when I was given the opportunity to delve headfirst into the world of medicine- to be there with the doctor - I jumped at it. Of course I never thought it would be halfway across the world in a clinic in Botswana, Africa. My sister, my mother and myself had come to spend the summer with my dad who was currently living and working here.
It started out fairly slow. I was placed in the pharmacy to package medication and in no time I had learned the names of the medication and the diseases they combated. As tedious as it might have been counting and sorting tablets and ointments day after day, I appreciated the knowledge I gained, for afterall it was a learning experience. After a few weeks I was in the consultation room with the doctor, taking note while he assessed the patients that came in. I learned a lot medically and otherwise, from the signs and symptoms of tuberculosis to the frequency of which people attempted to skip work declaring fake illnesses.
This day though, was different from all the others. I had arrived for "work" at 7:30am, received stares from the mass of patients waiting outside the doctor's office as I did like every other morning, but what I was about to witness later would impact the rest of my life. I was in the dressing bay when it happened and to this day I don't know what compelled me to walk into the dressing bay when I did, or to stay there as long as I had.
I was in mid conversation with a colleague when the doors busted open. Emerging were two men, one almost crawling on the ground clutching with his dear life a part of his hand, crying, screaming at the top of his voice. I saw behind him a long trail of blood and then realized that the top part of his index finger was cut off, apparently after attempting to fix the engine of a vehicle. I felt a queasy feeling in my stomach, my legs weakened and my head became light. What I had seen on House and Scrubs wasn't quite the same from what stood 5 feet away from my face. Screams and cries of pain filled the room, and were only subsided when he was too weak to raise his voice. He looked straight into my eyes and with that one glance I felt it- I felt the pain he was suffering from.
I went home that day like nothing happened. I skipped dinner, avoided any small talk and went straight for my bed. It didn't hit me though until later that night when I couldn't sleep and for the first in a long time- I cried. I was always so sure that I wanted to pursue a career medicine. I always envisioned the "Dr." title preceding my name, dressed in white with a stethoscope hanging around my neck. Now though more than ever, doubt clouded my mind. If I couldn't handle the emotional distress of a patient suffering a minor injury, how would I manage with the possibility of facing death on a regular basis? Right there and then I was forced to consider the path I wanted my life to take. I thought to myself that no matter the situation, knowing I did my best to help would make it all worth it.
You could learn a lot about me by browsing my internet history. Apart from the multiple entries to facebook.com and my unrepressed habit of watching video to video on youtube, you would find a surfeit of results about medicine- from the effect of excess glucose consumption and its strong correlation with diabetes to the deletion of a chromosome that causes Huntington's. It was like a relay effect: one article led to the click of another and in no time I was on a little adventure of my own.
It is no surprise then, that when I was given the opportunity to delve headfirst into the world of medicine- to be there with the doctor - I jumped at it. Of course I never thought it would be halfway across the world in a clinic in Botswana, Africa. My sister, my mother and myself had come to spend the summer with my dad who was currently living and working here.
It started out fairly slow. I was placed in the pharmacy to package medication and in no time I had learned the names of the medication and the diseases they combated. As tedious as it might have been counting and sorting tablets and ointments day after day, I appreciated the knowledge I gained, for afterall it was a learning experience. After a few weeks I was in the consultation room with the doctor, taking note while he assessed the patients that came in. I learned a lot medically and otherwise, from the signs and symptoms of tuberculosis to the frequency of which people attempted to skip work declaring fake illnesses.
This day though, was different from all the others. I had arrived for "work" at 7:30am, received stares from the mass of patients waiting outside the doctor's office as I did like every other morning, but what I was about to witness later would impact the rest of my life. I was in the dressing bay when it happened and to this day I don't know what compelled me to walk into the dressing bay when I did, or to stay there as long as I had.
I was in mid conversation with a colleague when the doors busted open. Emerging were two men, one almost crawling on the ground clutching with his dear life a part of his hand, crying, screaming at the top of his voice. I saw behind him a long trail of blood and then realized that the top part of his index finger was cut off, apparently after attempting to fix the engine of a vehicle. I felt a queasy feeling in my stomach, my legs weakened and my head became light. What I had seen on House and Scrubs wasn't quite the same from what stood 5 feet away from my face. Screams and cries of pain filled the room, and were only subsided when he was too weak to raise his voice. He looked straight into my eyes and with that one glance I felt it- I felt the pain he was suffering from.
I went home that day like nothing happened. I skipped dinner, avoided any small talk and went straight for my bed. It didn't hit me though until later that night when I couldn't sleep and for the first in a long time- I cried. I was always so sure that I wanted to pursue a career medicine. I always envisioned the "Dr." title preceding my name, dressed in white with a stethoscope hanging around my neck. Now though more than ever, doubt clouded my mind. If I couldn't handle the emotional distress of a patient suffering a minor injury, how would I manage with the possibility of facing death on a regular basis? Right there and then I was forced to consider the path I wanted my life to take. I thought to myself that no matter the situation, knowing I did my best to help would make it all worth it.
