Thanks! Here it is:

It was one of the last days of my pre-medical internship, and it was my most anticipated rotation yet—the wound care unit. I had heard grisly stories from students who went before, and my stomach turned flips that morning. As I assisted the doctor with her patients, I relaxed. These were just bodies needing repair; it was no more gruesome than other things I had seen. I was wrong. It was about to get difficult, but not for the reasons I expected.

The last patient we saw that day—I’ll call him Joe—came in because of diabetic foot sores. The nurse shared with us that he had stopped eating. The doctor asked him why, and he told a story that broke my heart. His wife had recently died, and he had discovered that he was not the biological father of some of his children. After her death, Joe let himself go. He stopped eating, and didn’t manage his diabetes. His wounds prevented him from wearing his shoes and he couldn’t afford new ones, thus he could not continue his job on the grounds crew at a little league baseball facility. He said that if he couldn’t work, he had no reason to live.

The doctor carefully tended to the foot sores. Joe was able to put on his boots for the first time in a long time, and left with a small smile on his face. The doctor turned to me and said, “Sometimes, my job is just to listen.”

This hit me hard. Up until that point I had imagined doctors as heroes, taking sick people and make them well again. I wanted to fix people too, so it bothered me that Joe had not truly been fixed. His feet were 10% of the problem, the other 90% being his situation. I asked myself if I had the strength to deal with this. Was it okay with me that sometimes all doctors can do is just listen?

I’ve always had grand ambitions; to be an astronaut, a marine biologist saving the oceans, a journalist exposing social ills. When I discovered my love and aptitude for science, I wanted to combine that with my compassion for people. I decided that medicine would be the perfect path for me. I entered college knowing exactly what I wanted to do. Each science class I take is one piece of a puzzle that I can put together. Integrating each subject and system brings me satisfaction. I can say with confidence that my strong science background will help me as a medical student and physician. Research became a passion that I hope to continue as an MD. I started as a volunteer collecting data on orangutan behavior, and this blossomed into a research assistant position on a long-term project. I have presented my findings at conferences, and will be an author on an upcoming publication. Because of my team’s work, orangutans may live better lives in captivity. I am proud to have contributed concretely to science, and I look forward to using research to shape how I treat my future patients.

My perception of a doctor’s duty shifted when I began volunteering in a local hospital’s emergency department. I did odd jobs and fetched blankets and pillows, but most of my time was spent talking to patients. I enjoyed giving people the small comforts that I could. I realized that there is more to medicine than treating the disease, but it wasn’t until the next summer that I fully grasped the implications of this idea.

I was accepted into an internship program at that same hospital. For seven weeks, I was a patient care assistant, visiting various departments to observe and help out. Not only did I shadow many specialties from orthopedic surgery to psychiatry, but I was also able to see what case workers, chaplains, speech and physical and occupational therapists do for patients. I came to realize that each patient is a complex system, and a team is necessary to give ideal care to each individual. Doctors are leaders of these teams. They must be masters at integrating each component. I am convinced that I can become a great asset to a medical team. My experience with music in particular has prepared me for this. I have been a flutist for ten years. Playing in ensembles at the college level has taught me how to work with others to achieve something great. Playing solo has helped me put myself out there and not be afraid to express myself. A good doctor should work in concert with others, but also not fear to take the lead.

So what happened to Joe? The honest answer is that I don’t know. My internship ended and I never saw him again. I like to think that his feet healed and he found peace with his life, but I can only say that he was able to put on his boots. Maybe sharing his story with us made him feel better. Joe didn’t know it, but he taught me a valuable lesson about being a doctor. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I won’t cure every patient. I can’t swoop in like a superhero and fix every problem. It won’t be easy, but through my perseverance, my ability to gain knowledge and my natural compassion, I can become a doctor who not only treats patients, but listens to them. I can’t imagine anything more fulfilling.