Peanut-Turkey - Duke - Free sample medical statement
Free sample medical statement
“Who is your role model?”
“My daddy. I want to be with him, but I can’t.”
I sat on the floor with a sweetly brave six-year-old boy - our arms around each other, and tears flowing down our faces. I failed to hold back my own tears as I tried to be an unwavering shield, overwhelmed with emotion for this child who had recently lost his father to renal cancer. Images flashed through my mind - my grandfather on his deathbed, the smiles and tears of 75 children around a bonfire, a petri dish of cancer cells - and then I put them all aside and sat there, present, just being with him, as medicine took on a new meaning for me.
Supporting the children at Camp Kesem, a nation-wide, week-long retreat for children who are affected by a parent’s cancer, was bittersweet for me as I drew on my own experiences when I lost my grandfather as a child, with whom I was very close. Although nothing compares to losing a parent at such a young age, I felt compelled to share with these children the same empowerment that my family gave me when I felt simultaneously alone, sad, and bitter. As a counselor, my understanding of emotional needs grew as I listened to stories about third grade and perfected high-fives after jump-shots - knowing that it was more than a game of duck-duck-goose or basketball. “Peanut-Turkey” (everyone makes up camp names) and I (“Kangaroo”) sat side-by-side as I drew an outline of the Camp Kesem caterpillar mascot for him. As I watched him use hues of blue and green to bring the tracing to life, I was struck by the profound metaphor of “Peanut-Turkey” coloring in the void in his life with his own conception of Kesem magic. Camp Kesem, a space where the power of relationships was realized, was absolutely part of the care that he and his family needed. Each child found his or her own way to resolution, and I was humbled to be a part of the scaffolding to get them there, even as I was far more inspired by them.
My long-standing involvement with Camp Kesem and other volunteer groups provided me with a deeper appreciation of the challenging, yet less visible efforts needed to support families. My firm belief in the transformative impact of this program continually motivated me to think creatively and be resilient as I networked to acquire sponsors and navigate the logistics of making the camp successful. With each hurdle, I took a deep breath and renewed my mission by reminding myself of every child who entered camp, tender and insecure about unveiling the gaping voids in their hearts, but left with an unbounded joy derived from friendship with other campers and counselors. It was the teamwork of over 150 volunteers, driven by our devotion to these children, that made the program a success. Similarly, I yearn to be a physician who can work with a team to bring care and comfort to patients and their families, united in our dedication to them.
The time I spent providing emotional support to our campers at Camp Kesem Rice was as much a part of the overall care of cancer patients and families as the hours I spent in the lab. I have made a conscious effort to keep my narrow niche of research inside the context of the body as a whole, since starting radiation oncology research during my freshman year as one of just six Rice Century Scholars. Through the medical physics and metallic nanochemistry, my interest was always in the holistic person: other organs, their lives outside of the disease, and their families. My project, a Starry Night painting of gold nanoparticles locked into cancer cells, was advertised in my lab as the birth of a potential cancer treatment for triple negative breast cancer and head/neck cancer. Only a year later, I wrote down “no tumor” for a mouse that I initially inoculated with an 8 mm tumor and dosed with my targeted nanoparticles, a tremendous success. Even then, as I treated my petri dish of cancer cells on the gurney under the radiation machine, I thought of the anxiety of the patient who had been on it just thirty minutes prior.
As night would set at Camp Kesem, I sometimes saw the twinkle of far-off stars as I reflected on my days, filled with a profound teary-eyed serenity. The dark sky with streaks of fluorescent blue and rugged, oval halos of gold conjugates that I had stared at just weeks prior in my lab - so similar to the sky over Kesem - has taken on a new meaning for me. I am drawn to medicine because it synergizes the fundamental human connection and the bare complexity of biology. My desire to be a physician is grounded in the practice of medicine that has worked in and through the structures of my family, community, and research. Somewhere in each of those glittering nanosphere conjugates is “Peanut-Turkey’s” father and my grandfather. As I start back in the lab, I take a deep breath, squint my eyes, and continue my search to find them. Until there’s a cure, there’s a Camp.