(way too) Personal Statement

A large amount of the few free moments I had as a teenager were spent trying to more fully develop my own independence. A feeling of control over what your life amounts to and an ability to make and carry out your own decisions is one of the few things required for personal happiness. For this reason, a large amount of my teenage angst can be explained by my diagnosis with diabetes at age thirteen. I had to rely on a wide range of people—doctors, pharmacists, nutritionists, school nurses, and my parents—to live a life that, at best, could be considered healthy. I was not happy that I had lost control over my own life. I was not happy that, at times, I had to put my entire faith in the hands of others. I was not happy that I was more vulnerable than my peers. But through all of my struggles with a chronic illness, I was grateful that people could answer my questions and concerns to my satisfaction.

I am diabetic, asthmatic, shockingly allergic to haywood (most notably to the alarm of the PA who administered my skin test); I have a vitamin D deficiency; I am just depressed enough to need therapists every once in a while; I have torn a labrum, anemia that prevents me from donating blood, and pityriasis alba which I self diagnosed as vitalaigo resulting in a Michael Jackson (bless his soul) freak out. I carry needles, apply crèmes, shoot up nasonex, inject insulin before bed while I brush my teeth, and take Benadryl to go to sleep. From an evolutionary standpoint, I am not the most fit of individuals. Realizing this, I began to become a little more appreciative of the care I have received. Some of my friends complain about how much they hate visiting their doctors—how much they hate physicians. But I have been blessed to have great doctors as I have stumbled upon more and more surprising and usually displeasing diagnoses.

And in retrospect, I have also been blessed to have doctor parents. My earliest memory? My mom skimming a dead rat out of our pool and dissecting it in front of my sisters and me. I’ll never forget what water-logged rat entrails look like (kind of like spaghetti in watered down spaghetti sauce). And, as much pain as I was in when I stepped upon a particularly well-stuck splinter, I was fascinated when my dad injected my foot with lidocaine to extract it. And I have always enjoyed the ethics questions my mom brings home from work as over dinner conversation: An elderly woman has a terminal diagnosis. How do you tell her she’s dying? Do you even tell her at all?

In short, the experiences I’ve lived through have led me to truly believe that what is most important to any society, and especially to the United States, are caring physicians who are engaged in the lives of their patients, who may be terrified thirteen-year-old girls who are not thrilled about having to remove chocolate milk from their diets. Of all the things I lack—notably a fully functional pancreas or an understanding of skin diseases—resolve is not one of them. I know now that there’s more to happiness than being independent. I would hope that everyone goes to college to eventually help others. I could help people doing any number of things, but I want to help directly, not detached, because I understand the importance of good doctors—as doctors and as people.

And I’m confident that I have the skills to be a good doctor. I am a clear and concise communicator—partly because of the many rhetoric courses I've taken at Colgate University. I have a long history of working hard to achieve self-set goals. For over fifteen years I participated in a sport, swimming, that only rewards intrinsically motivated individuals. I am also compassionate. I selflessly help friends with homework and edit the papers of siblings. I also get carried away in personal projects that I feel strongly about. When I found out that the rats I was observing freshmen year for a neuroscience experiment would be killed immediately following the experiment, I invoked my friends to adopt as many as possible. When mothers from town ask if I would be willing to give swim lessons to their children, I find a way to fit another lesson into my schedule because I recognize how important it is for moms to feel that their children are safe around water. As I’ve matured, I have come to realize that while control over your life can make you happy, independence to the point of isolation is not required for the perfect life. Indeed, for me, happiness comes in knowing that I have successfully helped another person. Because you’ll never know when you’ll need someone to help you. It is apparent that there will always be people in need of medical guidance, and as a diabetic, I believe I have additional empathy for these very people.