A Young Man's College Application Essay |
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On Thanksgiving Day 1996, when I was nine years old, an electric, shock-like, jolting message came to me that spurred my conviction that I will be an outstanding doctor. At the time, I was unaware of the challenges that would face me in the ensuing two years. Although born of adversity, my experience in overcoming the hurdles that awaited me became the foundation for my persistent dedication in pursuing my life goal. Looking back on that turkey dinner today, as I stand upon the threshold of my future, I know it was the beginning of a most positive path. Trigeminal Neuralgia is a neuropathic pain disorder that typically causes suffering in people in excess of seventy years of age. Usually, as a result of hardening of the arteries, the Milan sheath covering the Trigeminal Nerve is worn away, exposing the nerve. This condition triggers the nerve, provoking excruciating facial pain and tics. In my case, the veins in my head took a rare detour, wrapping themselves around the nerves in seven places. I was the second pediatric patient that Doctor Peter Jannetta, the creator of “Micro-Vascular Decompression Surgery” treated. In late January 1997, delirious and confused from shopping local doctors for a diagnosis, I found myself in Dr. Jannetta’s Pittsburgh office. As I looked up from my wheelchair, scanning my surroundings, I observed at least fifteen pairs of suffering eyes, topped with gray brows, looking back at me in awe. They were lining the perimeter of the waiting room, holding their faces and grimacing in pain. I asked myself “What am I doing here?” I spent nearly the next full year in Boston Children’s Hospital, being treated for “Pain Management”. At the time, I thought that these people did not know what they were doing; they could not manage my pain! Blowing bubbles and chewing gum was their strategy to chase away the grimace on my face; drawing pictures and reading storybooks was their idea of school. I asked myself “What am I doing here?” A repercussion of the intense pain that had become my life was the inability to eat. During the three-hour ambulance ride from Boston to home, I contemplated my future. I was thinking about getting back to school, seeing my friends again and playing baseball and football as I once loved doing. At 56 pounds, and having missed all of fourth grade and part of fifth, I looked down at the G-tube that was permanently installed in my stomach and I asked myself “What am I doing here?” In the summer of 1998, as my recovery progressed at home, I missed the laughter that would come from my suffering fellow patients and friends who lived with me in the hospitals. They would have roared at the sight of me wearing a chef’s hat at the stove, preparing my favorite foods for everyone other than me to eat, as my G-tube apparatus pumped nourishment into my frail frame. The doctors and nurses would have died laughing (and crying) at the sight of me starring in my school play wearing an emerald green suit and calling out, “I am the Wizard, the powerful Wizard of OZ.” My parents rolled on the ground in hysterics as I turned and grinned out from under the too-large helmet that I wore on my head as I drove the go-cart they bought me into a brick wall in the back of the Grand Union grocery store. All of a sudden it came clear to me, “So, this is what I am doing here.” I have been blessed with the experiences of suffering, having faith, having hope, recovery and renewal. This blessing has given me the opportunity to develop my self-discipline, determination, ambition, excellent study habits, the love of learning, the need to succeed, and the desire to contribute to the relief of the suffering of others. I am confident that the jolting, painful prod that came to me on that Thanksgiving Day delivered the message: “This is what you are here for.” I have made my highest priorities throughout high school that which would help pave the path for my unstoppable desire to become a Doctor of Medicine. My teammates on my Varsity football team call me “Doc Sam.” During my college visits this past spring and summer, I learned that many students come into their freshman year at college declaring “undecided.” I am not “undecided.” I am going to be an outstanding doctor. |
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