Personal Narrative: A Career As A Clinical Assistant

When you look at someone, no matter their background, remember that they have a story to tell. Every individual has gone through something that has changed them significantly. Here is my story.

Chichi was my neighbor and closest friend growing up. From playing catch on the front lawn to going on long walks in the park; we were inseparable. All of that changed one fateful Monday morning when I came to Chichi’s house to take her with me hiking.

As soon as her babysitter answered the door, I heard sobbing in the background. Chichi told me a phrase that no friend should ever have to hear: “We are moving in a week.”

Tuesday morning, I dutifully went next door to help Chichi pack her belongings. I walked into her room and found her sitting
on the bed with nothing packed. I helped out with whatever I could.

I noticed something was a little off. She hadn’t spoken a single word to me, and hadn’t moved since I arrived. I asked her why she was going away, but she would not answer me. Chichi unleashed a frustration after the third attempt that I had never seen in her before as she told me to leave her alone. I left totally confused.

Wednesday after my attempt to help out, there was no interaction beyond my phone call which she didn’t answer. Thursday, Chichi and I went to her favorite breakfast joint. I didn’t know at the time that it would be our last breakfast together. I devoured my food and noticed that Chichi barely touched her plate. I thought at the time “She must not be fully awake.”

Chichi and I had planned on going hiking Friday. I learned a life lesson that plans don’t always work out.

I woke up Saturday morning and looked out the window. I saw Chichi sitting outside in a chair. I ran over only to see that she was sound asleep! Her hair was unbrushed and her eyes looked tired. I persistently tried to wake her up. She smiled. Then she asked me to let her sleep, saying she had a very tiring week.

Sunday morning came and Chichi left. Chichi was gone! She left earlier than I expected, and without even a goodbye.

Everything was like a blur. The next thing I know, my mother is dragging me by the arm to the car. She races through traffic and turns into a building I has only seen before in passing: the hospital. My next sight was something nobody should ever have to see: my best friend bedridden.

All the strange pieces started to fit together. The unpacked room, the denial, the lack of appetite, the consistent tiredness, were all symptoms of what I would later find out to be Chichi’s stage four brain cancer. I stayed in the waiting room, but I was frustrated with my inability to assist. Once the doctors finished, I walked over to see Chichi. She was unconscious. However, I felt a smile from her face.

Monday evening my grandmother passed away at the age of 71.

I was only eleven years old that day my grandmother passed away. I was changed significantly that day. From the week Chichi announced she was moving until the day she died, I felt useless and hopeless. I wanted to help my best friend, but there was nothing I could do. I was too young to know what the doctors were doing. I wasn’t too young to know I wanted to be in their shoes one day and able to help.

Years later, I served in an unforgettable internship at Georgetown University.
This time around, I was no longer the dubious eleven year old kid in the waiting room. I was given the opportunity to enter the patient rooms and surgeon rooms where Chichi was once a part of, and saw first-hand how doctors operated in these situations. The skill and professionalism of the doctors was simply amazing. I was astonished by the doctors’ ability to strategically convey information to their patients in different ways by assessing the situation and by incorporating parts of their personality. The doctors were calm no matter how grave the situation was. I was so impressed by this skill that I decided to acquire this skill myself.

Another aspect of the internship I found mesmerizing was the way the doctors could attend to each individual’s needs through prescribing a combination of different medications and protocols. My mentors explained to me how this involves keeping up with the most recent literature so that you are ready for all the situations you may face. I am prepared to face this challenge so that one day I will be able to solve this puzzle of finding the perfect cure for my patients. Ultimately, my experience at Georgetown gave me peace by knowing that my Grandma had been in good
hands.

As I said before, everyone has their own story.
Likewise, I know that everyone has their own “Chichi”. Many people lose someone special in their life due to a battle with a sickness. Personally, I have lost more than one person. This has shaped my perspective on many things. I have not only gained a gratitude for those in my life, I have acquired a thirst to help those in need because I have been in their position. My childhood thirst to be a doctor has never been stronger as I envision myself operating on someone else’s “Chichi”. I know my efforts will be rewarded when I save not only my patient, but also that eleven year old kid who won’t have to embrace his Chichi for the last
time.