Why Medicine?
Why medicine? It’s a question asked often, yet a concise response is elusive. My initial response would be “to help others.” Though genuine, no one is truly satisfied with this response. But why? Can’t you help people in easier ways? The emotions I experience while helping others are overwhelmingly powerful. Knowing that I have made a meaningful impact on someone's life fills me with an indescribable sense of fulfillment. My biggest source of inspiration stems from my grandmother. I vividly remember she would always be crocheting a new design when I went to visit, the tubes and machines surrounding her refusing to deter her from her hobby. Even at a young age, I was instinctively drawn to helping her, whether it was administering her medications or trying my best to understand her medical reports. Though I was too young to comprehend the full extent of her medical issues, it never stopped me from wanting to help her. Because of this she would refer to me as her “mini doctor.” I was filled with pride every time she called me that. As time passed, my involvement in her health grew. Researching her conditions and medications deepened my interest, revealing the intricate workings of the human body. After she had passed, the only tangible memory I had left was her crocheted blanket—a symbol of her enduring love. It serves as a constant reminder of the warmth and compassion that fuel my ambition in the field of medicine. But it is more than that.
Looking down at the colorful blanket, I was struck with the realization of how similar studying medicine is to crocheting. In the beginning we start off with a long loose piece of yarn. This yarn symbolizes knowledge. As I delve deeper into my classes and obtain more knowledge, the once loose yarn slowly comes taut as each stitch is made. Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle the stress? My relatives constantly pester me with this question. Being the only girl amongst the army of boy cousins, I always felt undermined. Their questions begin to make me question my own capabilities. I always felt that I had to work for things harder than others. I was never naturally smart. Math never came easy to me. While my cousins were packing away their homework sheets, I was still solving the problems. Am I smart enough for this? What if my threads become loose or don’t even form a proper stitch? But I don’t let these thoughts plague my passion. I have begun to accept that sometimes not every stitch is perfect and doesn’t have to be. Each 'loose thread' of uncertainty or challenge I come across simply fuels my determination in making the next stitch stronger. Diffidence can be transformed into a driving force, propelling me to persevere and create a tapestry of knowledge.
Some people pick up the crochet hook from where their family left it last and resume the tapestry. It's a pattern characterized by wisdom, experience, and the familiarity of having been practiced and refined over time. They inherit not only the pattern but also the guidance, tips, and tricks from those who came before them. Being the eldest daughter of my family, I had to begin my own tapestry. I faced the daunting task of starting a new pattern—a medical pattern—with no prior family imprints to follow. With only a crochet hook, endless amount of yarn and passion to heal, I know that my woven creation will change lives.
While reading "Why Italian," I resonated with Jhumpa Lahiri’s struggle of learning Italian through her metaphor of doors. She speaks metaphorically about the different paths and opportunities that learning Italian opened up for her. These doors were not easy to open, but Lahiri accepted this challenge: "An unconditional opening, without complications or obstacles, doesn’t stimulate me" (Lahiri 16). While Lahiri’s doors challenge her with language, my doors challenge me with my passion. I find myself trapped in a long, dark hallway. The only source of light seeps from the cracks under the door at the end of the hallway. I run towards it, but it feels as if the door is moving farther with every step I take. My heart begins pounding in my chest, and my head is spinning. I run faster, harder, refusing to stop until I get closer. I push the door open and step into a new space, only to discover another hallway before me. This time, the journey feels less treacherous, but still challenging. Some doors are flung wide open, waiting for me to walk through, while others feel as if they are bolted shut.
These bolted doors appear quite perpetually, whether it's me struggling with my calculus class or trying to keep up with the immense amount of information taught during biology. My perseverance and countless hours spent studying allow the bolts to loosen from the door. I smile as the bolts ricochet off the ground. I have learned to celebrate every small achievement.
My tapestry of knowledge builds with each door I unlock, revealing the intricacies woven through the obstacles and accomplishments. I hope that my tapestry keeps growing and I am faced with a plethora of more doors, allowing me to save others but also a testament to my unwavering belief that I am capable of achieving anything I set my mind to.