Personal Narrative: My Migration To America

“Life is a marathon and you're still at the store buying your running shoes." I was sitting in class in ninth grade zoning out when my global history teacher approached and told me that. Those words hit me hard, and for the first time I felt shame. I was never the brightest student in my family, always stuck in the shadow of my overachieving sister. I didn’t take school seriously. I figured there was no point in pursing an education if I was going to join my father in his food business.
My parents are emigrants from Uzbekistan who came to America in search of a brighter future for my sister and me, as well as to escape religious persecution from Muslim extremists. Unfortunately, the migration to America struck my family with financial
Everything in my life began to change, from my friends to my attitude. My future was looking bright. The only thing left was to pick a profession, something that would ignite my spark. That was when my parents were involved in a terrible accident. In March 2009, my parents were pedestrians struck by a car. My mother was diagnosed with a fractured tibial plateau, and was wheelchair bound for five months. During this difficult time I accompanied her to numerous appointments and met many different medical personnel. Surprisingly, I became inspired. It was an awful time for my family, but it was an experience that changed my life. Everything about the healthcare system fascinated me. I asked many questions about medications, imaging techniques that were used on my mother, and job descriptions of practically everyone I had encountered. I remember telling a nurse about how I found the hospital to be the most interesting place that I have ever visited and she replied, “Well if you feel that way, you should become a doctor, they practically live
This was especially demonstrated to me while I volunteered at Columbia Hospital. I was tasked with feeding an irritable patient that was paralyzed from the neck down for the past 30 years. A simple 25-minute lunch turned into a two-hour long conversation. Being in that room with him instilled a deep sense of sympathy that I knew would be necessary in a field where doctors use facile explanations of illnesses to their patients. Patients often don’t understand the full extent of their illness and neither do their loved ones. It is important for doctors to have the ability to sympathize with their patients. After our conversation, the patient had become significantly more cooperative with the staff. It was such a motivating and educational experience to see how a volunteer, of all people, could improve the standard of care for a patient. I can only imagine the impact a physician could make.
My heart and soul is set on becoming a doctor. Given the chance, I am certain that I will be a successful physician because of my passion towards the sciences, commitment to healthcare, and intimacy with patient communication. Learning the art of healing is something to be revered and sought after and I am willing to do whatever it takes to become a humble and respected