Neurosurgeon: Personal Narrative Analysis

As I exit the locker room, I strap on my black cleats and tighten my gloves. I grab my silver helmet with the lightning bolt logo, touch the sign that says “Play Like A Champion Today,” and walk into the tunnel. Finally, we hear our team’s name, and we run onto the field ready to defeat the fear of losing embedded in our minds. The opportunity arose, and whether we seized it or not, this would be my last game. We took away from that day more than just a win, or a loss. As somber as I was to let this moment go, I knew I had not let my team down. There was no anguish, no agony. These lessons from football have carried over in my journey to become a physician. I knew I wanted a career in healthcare, and football has better prepared me for that.

My heartrate has to be off the charts. I’m sure the anesthesiologist would know, since I’m hooked up to a monitor. She is doing her damnedest to make this experience seem routine. For her, I’m sure it is. She must do at least a dozen sections a week. I, on the other hand, have never had surgery. Never have I had another life inside me either, counting on me to make all the right decisions. I’m hoping this is the right decision. I am sitting here on this hard cold steel table alone, no loved ones are allowed back until the procedure is underway. My naked back is exposed to a student. There will be a slight pinch as the needle pierces through my lumbar flesh kissing the anesthetic solution into my system. I am here because my daughter, my already

When I was five years old I found out my sister, who at the time was two years old, was diagnosed with Cancer. This was a challenge for my entire family.

The brain-dead seldom seem like they’re dead. The rise and fall of their chests is so convincing, the ventilator seems like an ornament rather than the single source of oxygen that keeps their hearts beating. Their skin is warm to the touch, and condensation clings to the inside of the catheter from the fresh streams of body-temperature urine. Despite how peaceful they look, their bodies are undergoing progressive autolysis, utter and massive self-destruction. Without the helm of consciousness, my father and all of the patients in his section of the intensive care unit seemed adrift in a tiny boat on a wild, infinite sea – yet unconcerned about finding their way back to

This week I had rotation at Genesis and also Cumberland Hall. Genesis was very different that what I expected. When I think of a “rehab” I think of people all sitting around with major withdrawal symptoms, a very strict schedule, multiple one-on-one session, and with no smoke breaks. At Genesis, throughout the day the client was able to do their own thing until the scheduled group session and smoke breaks. I was placed on the male unit and I was very surprise of the self-awareness that I experienced. Just listening men talk and tell their stories brought on a whole new prospective and quickly changed the image of the addict stereotype. While I was there we also established that all the clients was first timers and all fathers, and afterwards I was able to sit and think about how grateful I am to have my father who’s not an addict. I have had the luxury of always having a clean and sober father; which I had taking for granted.

Nigeria, 2001, I awakened startled with people screaming indiscriminately. My dad's head was bleeding profusely, and my cousin, sitting in the passenger seat was bleeding from his neck. There were shards of shattered windshield everywhere. I was in the backseat uninjured but scared. This commotion was the aftermath of a car accident involving my dad, my cousin and me, while he was driving us to school. Next, we were rushed to the hospital, however, upon arrival, we were refused treatment until we paid an admissions fee. This practice was common in my country. Although the incident was disturbing, it drove me towards a career in healthcare, mainly working with patients who have a difficulty affording their medical care.

Your evidence for DNA is the most practical and straight forward of all evidence. We all see parts of ourselves from both parents, as we see us and our parents, in our children. I look just like my mom with the exception of my dad’s complexion and hair type. My son baby pictures, look just like my mom, yet now he favors my dad more. I, myself, am completely an extrovert, with a very outgoing personality just as my mother is, whereas my father is just the opposite. My son is starting to take this trait from myself and my mom, easily seen in his never meeting a stranger, talkative, funny ways, as well as his mischievousness LOL.

Scared, nervous, anxious my emotions were all over the place. I didn’t know the interview was going to be a group interview? “Great!” I said to myself, now I have to deal with making myself stand out more. I thought to myself I need this internship so I can be able to look at different careers in the medical field. I need to calm myself down now the interview is about to start. Each time it came to my turn I felt so nervous that I couldn’t get the right words out of my mouth. Nine questions went by and the interview was finally done. I shake hands with both interviewers as I step out the door I felt intimidated by the other applicants. I don’t even know if I aced the interview or completely bombed it.

My wrists burned terribly and the stinging pain seemed to rivet through my entire body. I didn't mind it though,it gave me a sense of being alive, a sense of that somewhere in the midst of this all, I'm still human and even thought I feel dead, I know I'm not.

Throughout my clinical experiences I have encountered a large variety of school cultures and environments. I've been lucky enough to work with both public and charter schools and have first-hand experience with grades one through four. While I have taught and observed all of the typical subjects including math science, reading, and social studies, I have also worked in the schools to educate students in theater as well as health and physical education. From all of these experiences I learned that my greatest passion is in working with young students, grades K-2, in underprivileged schools.

When individuals think of dead people, images of loved ones might scroll through their brain or perhaps they are reminded of the infamous quote, “I see dead people” from the movie, The Sixth Sense. However, for me, the two words evoke a momentous memory in which I inspected cadavers. I was a teenager at the time, attending a summer medical program and it seemed as if I had entered the gates of heaven or simply put, the gates of Georgetown University. I had always wanted to pursue a career in medicine, and this was evident in second grade when I dressed up as a doctor for career day. It was sensational strutting around in my immaculate, white lab coat and using my Fisher Price stethoscope to “hear” the other students’ heartbeats. I felt the

I wasn’t worried or scared initially because I saw my sister go through this process. As time got closer, I admit I was nervous. The day of the surgery I had to get up a little too early for my liking. I remember driving to the hospital not knowing what to expect. When we arrived they had to put an IV that had anesthesia in it. That is when it hit me and I realized that I was going to get surgery so I full on passed out. I woke up about 3 minutes later laying down with an ice pack on my head with about 5 nurses in the room. The scene seemed like something you would see in a movie. It was pretty comical. Once the surgery was over and I woke up from anesthesia it caused me to act loopy. I remember asking my mom for my phone and I started to take selfies and sent them to my friends it was a bad decision. I got my surgery done in the middle of the summer because my mom did not want me to miss any school, which made me a little bothered. It took up a lot of my free time in the summer, but I guess it was all right because I had an excuse for everything. I did not have to do the dishes or take my dog for a walk, even tasks that I could do people did it for me. Having sympathy from people was a plus. I stayed in the hospital for five days with my mom sleeping in a twin bed next to me. She was very helpful through this process of pain. I don’t know how she kept it all together. She survived through my screaming and my senseless

My first job in the United States was working in a nursing home in Illinois. Although I have four years of medical-surgical experience from the Philippines before embarking on this journey, I felt that it was not enough to prepare me for it. I had a culture shock when I found out that the ratio of one nurse to the number of residents in a skilled unit is one nurse to 25 residents, and for those ambulatory or semi-ambulatory units the ratio is one nurse to 50 or 60 residents. For a couple of months, I had been reflecting if this is what I signed for since the work is overwhelming and being away from your friends and family can bring stress and burnout. Once I settled in and adjusted, I was focused on finding a job in a hospital. Luckily,

On the day of surgery, August 5th, my mom woke me up early. The car ride to the cities was quiet besides some encouraging words my mom tried to cheer me up with. She told me it would go just fine countless times, knowing how scared i was. When we finally arrived

I lived and attended a university on the eastern part of the U.S., but withdrew from my courses to tend to my mother. Several weeks prior, we celebrated 3 years of her being healed from a brain aneurysm and believed that her bout of medical misfortune had one been conquered. But we were wrong and the days following were going to pass us quicker than we could get our