Personal Narrative Essay: My Journey To Medicine

I was walking down the hallway of the hospital when suddenly I heard a patient calling out for help in a familiar language. As I walked into the patient’s room, I noticed a group of nurses trying to decipher her concerns communicated in her native Russian. Despite their efforts, she was still crying out for help. The language barrier hindered her communication with the nurses about her severe abdominal pain. Noting an opportunity to serve, I happily stepped in and translated between the patient, named Yekaterina, and the nurses. The genuine look of gratefulness in her eyes along with the constant “sposibo” of gratitude I received from her for doing such a simple deed was truly something I will never take for granted. Quite often we find ourselves falling into a daily routine, making it easy to lose sight of why we are doing what we love in the first place. After many months of volunteering at the Hollywood

At the age of seven, I witnessed my mother being rushed to an operating room to undergo heart surgery. I didn’t know it at the time, but this incident would begin to set the stage for my path towards medical school. From then onward, I assisted both of my parents during their subsequent appointments and hospital visits and bridged the language barrier thanks to being trilingual. I also helped fill out paperwork, and most importantly, was there for continual emotional and physical support. Having to take on this role instilled the quality of compassion and empathy within me as I carefully observed the physician’s kind and professional treatment of their patients, including my parents. It also exposed me to role models to look up to as someone who aspires to be a knowledgeable and confident physician. Thus, my parents’ dependence on me inspired my love for practicing medicine as a means of helping people in need and spurred my interest in volunteering and shadowing at hospitals and