Personal Narrative: The Electrocardiogram

Soaring down the highway, I began to hear a ringing noise. My mother answered the phone to my grandmother crying hysterically that my grandfather was in the hospital. Stunned by the news, she frantically turned the car around and drove straight to the hospital. We walked into the melancholy yet high paced emergency room to discover my grandfather hooked up to an array of strange machines. I was petrified of why he suddenly became so sick, but also intrigued by the ill patients the doctors continued to roll past my grandfather’s door. When the doctor returned, I shot out of my chair, immediately asking what was wrong with a person I love so dearly. As the doctor spoke, a series of incomprehensible words came out of his mouth followed by one
word that stabbed me as sharp as a dagger; my grandfather had a stroke. We were left to digest the atrocious news we had received. After two hours, which felt like a lifetime, the doctor returned with many machines I hadn’t seen before.
The dreadful events of the day began to fade from my mind as I began focusing on every minute movement, questioning the purpose behind the machines rapidly being attached to my grandfather’s chest. While working on my grandfather, the doctor explained how the electrocardiogram worked he was planning on performing, showing me the rhythms of my grandfather’s heartbeat. I watched as the electrocardiogram traced each beat, following the line with my eyes, unable to tear myself away from the medicine as I felt an enigmatic connection to the hospital. Entranced by the slow, smooth beat of the heart, I fell in love. The images became woven into my mind, removing a lock from my brain that I never knew existed. For the next week and a half, I sat by my grandfather’s bedside throughout the entire day, absorbing new information. When the doctors would enter the room, I would listen intently to each word that came out of their mouth. Freed from the lock created by a lack of awareness, but placed in the grips of a passion that captivates my mind. I spent days in the hospital, yet I felt as though I was there for but a minute. As I adopted the ideas into my knowledge, I felt undiscovered emotions of infatuation that I never want to
lose. After experiencing the exuberating emotions I felt at the hospital, I enrolled in medical courses offered at my school. When sitting in the classes, I felt at home. I was comfortable in the classes because I had a connection with the material we were learning, allowing me to devote myself to the subject matter. The more I discovered through my studies, the more I wanted to know. Because of this, I have done countless hours of research, guiding me to a deeper understanding of the path I want to take with my life. I am guided to new information through the passion I have for medicine, pushing me to work as hard as possible to unveil new knowledge and discoveries in order to give me the best possible understanding of my passion. The most incredible aspect of medicine us that it is always changing, meaning that there is no end to the knowledge that can be gained. I am thereby allowed to continue exploring my passion, wasting away hours learning without ever knowing they are passing me by. However, had the unfortunate event of my grandfather’s stroke not occurred, my fascination with medicine may have remained locked away, yet to be discovered.