Hometown: Escondido, California, USA

Undergraduate School: Private, Smith College

Major: Chemistry and Neuroscience

GPA: 3.83 out of 4.0

MCAT: 34. PS: 12, V: 11, BS: 11.

Medical school statement advice

The year I turned seven, the words papeles and inmigrantes entered my vocabulary and settled on my family as a fog of dissonance between the American I was and the Americans my family members were not. That year began like any other with a huge family reunion and seemingly endless supply of Mexican food. Christmas had always been my favorite holiday; Christmas of 1994, however, opened my eyes to what being an inmigrante sin papeles earned you en los Estados Unidos. My grandmother, mi wita, nearly died of pneumonia after first contracting the flu. Without health insurance, legal immigration status, or a steady income, my family had little choice but to wait and hope for the best. It was then that I decided that I would not watch my family suffer like this without doing something about it. It was then that I decided to do whatever it took to become a doctor.

In my household where drunken beatings and verbal harassment by an alcoholic stepfather were common, mi wita was the most stable person in my life. Time spent with her was grounding, inspiring, and simply enjoyable. “Wita, why can’t you bend your right arm? Why does the joint look so funny?” Unfortunately for my wita, she had grown up in a time where donkeys (who threw you off their back at whim) were the main means of transportation and medical attention was a privilege reserved for those residing in cities. The fact that she was able to raise 11 children while working in crop fields still amazes me.

More amazing was mi wita’s demeanor. Despite a difficult life where she lost her mother to an undiagnosed disease and two small children to dysentery, where she endured crippling beatings from a cheating husband, and where food was always scarce, mi wita never demonstrated an ounce of resentment. Her loving nature, strong will and optimistic outlook make me proud to have been her niña. Losing her to pancreatic cancer this year has taught me to appreciate all that I have and to give thanks for every day that I am given. Most importantly, it has ingrained in me a deep respect for life and those who work to preserve it.

While almost losing my wita as a child is what first drove me to pursue a career in medicine, my mother’s work as a nurse deepened my admiration for medical professionals. As a young girl, I joined my mom as she traveled to family, first in Mexico and then the U.S. I would watch her as she carefully loaded sterile needles with penicilina that my relatives had bought from Tijuana pharmacies, prescribed by doctores that looked like us, talked like us, and explained our ailments in a way nosotros Latinos understood. My mother also assumed primary responsibility for my wita at the end of her life. Serving people during their most vulnerable moments, my mother always demonstrated the utmost respect to patients and their families, teaching me how to provide care without being patronizing.

My mother’s love for the medicine has always been evident, but then, so has the barrier to an American education and accreditation. This same barrier prevents her from doing what she

loves and, instead, restricts her to cleaning houses in order to support her family. My mother’s inability to pursue her passion has taught me to take complete advantage of every opportunity that I am granted and has imprinted on me the added responsibility to work even harder in order to achieve success on behalf of both of us—on behalf of our entire family. Without my family’s sacrifices, I would never have been able to graduate from high school, be the first in my family to attend and graduate college, and have the privilege of even considering a career in medicine.

My first opportunity to observe doctors came in the summer of 2007, during my time at the Summer Medical and Dental Educational Program at Yale Medical School. Here, I was able to shadow physicians in the ER and in low-income clinics. Being one of only a handful of program participants who spoke both English and Spanish fluently, the doctors were particularly thankful to have me around. I remember translating for a Puerto Rican stab wound patient and for a concerned mother whose baby was sick with pneumonia. And even as these exchanges begin to fade away with the tide of time, one image remains: the wave of relief that surged onto each patient’s face after realizing that I was like them, that I understood them and could convey their fears and pose their questions to the doctors. Here, where I learned to talk to patients and their families, I saw how my heritage and our shared ancestry could bring immediate relief to my patients.

If helping the ill were my only interest, I would follow my mother’s footsteps to become a nurse. I am, however, consumed by the desire to understand the science that makes us human, and especially about the brain. My interest in the brain appeared when my grandmother began to disappear, memories of her life and loved ones steadily stolen by Alzheimer’s. Spending 2 years in a neuroscience laboratory cultivated my interest in research, so after college, I followed my love for science into a stem cell laboratory. There, I learned what it meant to be part of a group that constantly works on high impact, cutting edge science. As cell lines and Science articles became integral parts of my daily routine, my vision for a career as a physician-scientist came into full focus.

My passion for learning and discovery is rivaled only by my love for helping others; practicing as a physician-scientist will allow me to accomplish both. I have experienced disparity firsthand and as a physician-scientist I will act as a catalyst of change, applying biomedical science to preserve and enhance the lives of those who need it most: people like my family. The day the cancer finally stole my wita I learned that no matter how much knowledge we possess, we are all inevitably mortal. Life is meant to be cherished, enjoyed, and lived to its fullest. My only hopes are that my life’s work improves the quality of life of those in need and that every decision I make is in keeping with the advice my mother always gave me as a child, “You choose your future, mija. Don’t let life choose it for you.”

Analysis

Azucena builds this essay around two influential women in her life: her grandmother and her mother. It is clear her grandmother’s cancer inspired her to pursue medicine and her mother’s love for medicine further sustained that interest. However, what is particularly powerful about her narrative is her skillful use of quotes and anecdotes as examples. She weaves informative snippets of her life into her essay and gives readers an authentic glimpse into her Mexican heritage and personal life. She also strikes an elegant balance between writing about those she admires and about herself.

In each description, she keeps her learnings and takeaways as her main focus and effectively provides readers with insight into her reflective and humble character.

Azucena continues her essay by describing a variety of experiences from her work as an impromptu translator to her research in neuroscience. However, her essay never feels rushed or disjointed. Each paragraph is concise and serves a distinct purpose in the essay, from demonstrating her understanding of diverse perspectives in medicine to highlighting experiences that inform her desire to become a physician-scientist. In her concluding paragraph, she links her goals for the future to her past with a strategic return to the influences of her grandmother and mother. In doing so, she not only brings continuity into her essay but also demonstrates her clear sense of direction and drive.

From 50 Successful Harvard Medical School Essays edited by the Staff of the Harvard Crimson. Copyright (c) 2020 by the authors and reprinted by permission of St. Martin's Publishing Group