To Understand and Be Understood
by Lisa
The corridors of Autumn Care feel strangely familiar. Aged faces graciously greet me, though occasional fixed glares of loneliness and tiredness are evident. Yet each of them remains hopeful. Some anticipate their family's visit while others anxiously await their release from the constraints of the care center, or from life itself. The usual stale odor permeates the air. As I wander down the halls, I observe fresh faces and a new, unmarked layer of yellow paint polishing the walls. It's a calming color with ocean, sand and sea grass illustrated on the foreground. I shake hands with some people, hug others and catch up on lost time. They enlighten me on the latest happenings in their home - who has died, who has been released, and who has been flirting with the nursing staff. I sit myself beside an old friend, Jane Marie. Jane is a lonely forty-seven year old woman constrained to a wheel chair from partial paralysis due to strokes. Her mother has died and the remainder of her family had neglected her several years ago. Though not only does she feel neglected from her family, she also feels neglected from her doctor, and the lack of proper care she is receiving at the home. She expresses concerns over the lack of interest her doctor seems to have for her well-being and his reluctance to listen to her. We chat for a few hours as I try to console her and care for her non-medical needs as best as I can. Remembering my main reason for coming to the nursing home, I hug Jane goodbye and promise to see her again soon.
"Room 116: Elenear Brightfield and Gloria Lin." A star is placed beside their names to indicate their affliction with Alzheimer's, and to remind employees to remain alert of their possible wandering from the center's grounds. I peer into the room for a few brief seconds only to observe a few unfamiliar faces in their beds. I walk back outside.
I sit myself down in a white wooden rocker found on the front porch. The light from the setting sun scatters on the patio's bricks. A small-statured lady, fragile and ghostly in appearance ironically begins to sing one of my grandmother's favorite songs: "Blue Skies" by Frank Sinatra. I want to believe that my grandmother is singing to me through this woman's voice. As I sit in the over-sized chair, the lady's voice starts to fade as I begin to reminisce. . .
"Oh my God . . . she's having a seizure!" the nurse cries out in panic as though seizures are a very foreign case to her. Dashing for the door, she mutters "Let me run (and) get a doctor!" I safeguard my grandmother in the chair and by the time the doctor and nurse returns, my grandmother's bout of convulsions ends. She regains a normal state of consciousness though remains extremely fatigued and perplexed. "Her MRI shows that she's had multiple mini-strokes and this one would be considered moderate" reports the doctor a few days later. He prescribes medication to decrease her risk of further strokes.
In about a week's time, my grandmother is back on her feet with the usual help of her walker and tennis balls. We reach the end of the corridor, turn around, and go back. We reach the tomato plants at the end of the sidewalk, turn around, and go back. We know to replace the tennis balls when her walker begins to rattle and make a distinct "screeeeech" sound. We sit outside for an hour, singing classical Frank Sinatra tunes and receive the attention by many. We sit together as she eats her meals slowly, and on occasion, unwillingly. She forgets how to eat every now and then, and eventually forgets how to walk, swallow and even sing.
The voice of the frail lady on the sunlit porch reappears. As she sings, "Blue Skies, smiling at me, nothing but blue skies, do I see", I can only think of how appropriate that song is as North Carolina skies are amongst the most beautiful I've ever seen.
As I visited my grandmother as well as the other patients of Autumn Care over the years, I finally realized that my niche lied within a medical career - and I was particularly interested in the work of a physician's. I believe my reasons for wanting to pursue a medical career are multifaceted. Listening to friends like Jane Marie as patients in despair, I could only sit beside them and comfort them through non-medical means. However, as merely a young college student, I was absolutely incapable in improving their medical condition. The lack of some doctor's empathy and professionalism in the nursing home combined with my powerlessness to provide for my grandmother and my friends' medical care caused me great anguish and frustration. However, this also led to my newfound interest in the complexity of science, medicine, and health care delivery.
With daily visits to Autumn Care for a period of years, I couldn't help but learn extensively on some of the most intriguing yet devastating and prevalent diseases such as Alzheimer's Disease, Heart Disease, Cancer, and ? Disease. Although I didn't enjoy learning the harsh realities of my friends' suffering, I found myself very inquisitive about each condition, unique in their own nature - from causes to symptoms to treatment options to side effects. Some weekends were spent entirely with my grandmother and my friends at the nursing home listening fervently to stories related to their progression of illness, their latest prognosis, their new treatment, and their present state of health. Though as I listened to my grandmother and my friends in grave conditions over the years, I learned most importantly what patients valued most - to be heard and understood.
Once I began to realize that a doctor's work was many-fold, I was convinced that a medical career was best suited for me. I was very attracted to the idea that the greatest doctors do not merely serve as doctors but also serve as effective listeners, conversationsists, and most importantly, as companions. Aside from making knowledgeable, well-informed decisions on the proper treatment for their patients, the best doctor's whole heart is put into their work for optimal results. As I listen to my friends as patients with analogous concerns, I realize the importance of doctors listening with an emphatic ear and considering their patients' wants, needs, and fears. The best doctors meet the needs of their patients by taking interest in not only providing proper medical treatment but in taking an active position to understand the patient, including their background, lifestyle, thoughts, fears, and apprehensions. The possibility of acknowledging patients as people is also what intrigued me about medicine. Over the years, I realized that my grandmother and my friends valued my conversation and companionship, and I believe that although I could not medically treat them, I gave them the best medicine they could have received - I listened.
Medicine is a highly respected and regarded field. Medicine is also a field which allows for people of compassion, kind-heartedness, and effective listening to utilize their natural abilities to treat others. Because of these qualities I believe to possess, I have been inspired to pursue a career in the medical field. Medicine is where I feel I can make the greatest impact, and where I can experience the greatest fulfillment. The nursing home was where I could demonstrate my personable qualities and its impact on people. Ralph G. Nichols once said: "The most basic of all human needs is to understand and to be understood." After spending time in the nursing home, I have learned to value that statement very much.
*to be continued...I will further talk more specifically about why I want to pursue a career in medicine and how this situation relates to my reasons for wanting to become a doctor. Your revisions are greatly appreciated!
*Please suggest additional ideas for revision other than the minor concerns I've mentioned above. Thanks so much!
by Lisa
The corridors of Autumn Care feel strangely familiar. Aged faces graciously greet me, though occasional fixed glares of loneliness and tiredness are evident. Yet each of them remains hopeful. Some anticipate their family's visit while others anxiously await their release from the constraints of the care center, or from life itself. The usual stale odor permeates the air. As I wander down the halls, I observe fresh faces and a new, unmarked layer of yellow paint polishing the walls. It's a calming color with ocean, sand and sea grass illustrated on the foreground. I shake hands with some people, hug others and catch up on lost time. They enlighten me on the latest happenings in their home - who has died, who has been released, and who has been flirting with the nursing staff. I sit myself beside an old friend, Jane Marie. Jane is a lonely forty-seven year old woman constrained to a wheel chair from partial paralysis due to strokes. Her mother has died and the remainder of her family had neglected her several years ago. Though not only does she feel neglected from her family, she also feels neglected from her doctor, and the lack of proper care she is receiving at the home. She expresses concerns over the lack of interest her doctor seems to have for her well-being and his reluctance to listen to her. We chat for a few hours as I try to console her and care for her non-medical needs as best as I can. Remembering my main reason for coming to the nursing home, I hug Jane goodbye and promise to see her again soon.
"Room 116: Elenear Brightfield and Gloria Lin." A star is placed beside their names to indicate their affliction with Alzheimer's, and to remind employees to remain alert of their possible wandering from the center's grounds. I peer into the room for a few brief seconds only to observe a few unfamiliar faces in their beds. I walk back outside.
I sit myself down in a white wooden rocker found on the front porch. The light from the setting sun scatters on the patio's bricks. A small-statured lady, fragile and ghostly in appearance ironically begins to sing one of my grandmother's favorite songs: "Blue Skies" by Frank Sinatra. I want to believe that my grandmother is singing to me through this woman's voice. As I sit in the over-sized chair, the lady's voice starts to fade as I begin to reminisce. . .
"Oh my God . . . she's having a seizure!" the nurse cries out in panic as though seizures are a very foreign case to her. Dashing for the door, she mutters "Let me run (and) get a doctor!" I safeguard my grandmother in the chair and by the time the doctor and nurse returns, my grandmother's bout of convulsions ends. She regains a normal state of consciousness though remains extremely fatigued and perplexed. "Her MRI shows that she's had multiple mini-strokes and this one would be considered moderate" reports the doctor a few days later. He prescribes medication to decrease her risk of further strokes.
In about a week's time, my grandmother is back on her feet with the usual help of her walker and tennis balls. We reach the end of the corridor, turn around, and go back. We reach the tomato plants at the end of the sidewalk, turn around, and go back. We know to replace the tennis balls when her walker begins to rattle and make a distinct "screeeeech" sound. We sit outside for an hour, singing classical Frank Sinatra tunes and receive the attention by many. We sit together as she eats her meals slowly, and on occasion, unwillingly. She forgets how to eat every now and then, and eventually forgets how to walk, swallow and even sing.
The voice of the frail lady on the sunlit porch reappears. As she sings, "Blue Skies, smiling at me, nothing but blue skies, do I see", I can only think of how appropriate that song is as North Carolina skies are amongst the most beautiful I've ever seen.
As I visited my grandmother as well as the other patients of Autumn Care over the years, I finally realized that my niche lied within a medical career - and I was particularly interested in the work of a physician's. I believe my reasons for wanting to pursue a medical career are multifaceted. Listening to friends like Jane Marie as patients in despair, I could only sit beside them and comfort them through non-medical means. However, as merely a young college student, I was absolutely incapable in improving their medical condition. The lack of some doctor's empathy and professionalism in the nursing home combined with my powerlessness to provide for my grandmother and my friends' medical care caused me great anguish and frustration. However, this also led to my newfound interest in the complexity of science, medicine, and health care delivery.
With daily visits to Autumn Care for a period of years, I couldn't help but learn extensively on some of the most intriguing yet devastating and prevalent diseases such as Alzheimer's Disease, Heart Disease, Cancer, and ? Disease. Although I didn't enjoy learning the harsh realities of my friends' suffering, I found myself very inquisitive about each condition, unique in their own nature - from causes to symptoms to treatment options to side effects. Some weekends were spent entirely with my grandmother and my friends at the nursing home listening fervently to stories related to their progression of illness, their latest prognosis, their new treatment, and their present state of health. Though as I listened to my grandmother and my friends in grave conditions over the years, I learned most importantly what patients valued most - to be heard and understood.
Once I began to realize that a doctor's work was many-fold, I was convinced that a medical career was best suited for me. I was very attracted to the idea that the greatest doctors do not merely serve as doctors but also serve as effective listeners, conversationsists, and most importantly, as companions. Aside from making knowledgeable, well-informed decisions on the proper treatment for their patients, the best doctor's whole heart is put into their work for optimal results. As I listen to my friends as patients with analogous concerns, I realize the importance of doctors listening with an emphatic ear and considering their patients' wants, needs, and fears. The best doctors meet the needs of their patients by taking interest in not only providing proper medical treatment but in taking an active position to understand the patient, including their background, lifestyle, thoughts, fears, and apprehensions. The possibility of acknowledging patients as people is also what intrigued me about medicine. Over the years, I realized that my grandmother and my friends valued my conversation and companionship, and I believe that although I could not medically treat them, I gave them the best medicine they could have received - I listened.
Medicine is a highly respected and regarded field. Medicine is also a field which allows for people of compassion, kind-heartedness, and effective listening to utilize their natural abilities to treat others. Because of these qualities I believe to possess, I have been inspired to pursue a career in the medical field. Medicine is where I feel I can make the greatest impact, and where I can experience the greatest fulfillment. The nursing home was where I could demonstrate my personable qualities and its impact on people. Ralph G. Nichols once said: "The most basic of all human needs is to understand and to be understood." After spending time in the nursing home, I have learned to value that statement very much.
*to be continued...I will further talk more specifically about why I want to pursue a career in medicine and how this situation relates to my reasons for wanting to become a doctor. Your revisions are greatly appreciated!
*Please suggest additional ideas for revision other than the minor concerns I've mentioned above. Thanks so much!
