The On The Wet Rocks

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The wet rocks shifted beneath my feet causing me to lose my balance as I ran across the path. I landed hard on my left arm and immediately knew something was wrong – my wrist was swollen and already felt stiff. Gingerly, I picked myself up and walked over to my mom, showing her my misshapen limb. At the orthopedist the next day, I sat enthralled as he pointed out the thin line glowing on the film, explaining that I had fractured my arm and would need to wear a cast for six weeks. I reflected on this often during college and ultimately settled on pursuing a degree in Biology. This involved moving into a co-op so that I could afford to live near campus, with proximity to the library and science labs. The co-op I moved into was a housing unit that offered reduced rent for students in exchange for weekly labor, thus drawing students from diverse backgrounds. My time there cemented my aspirations to become a health care professional for two major reasons: it introduced me to the realities of healthcare disparities within the US through my interactions with fellow co-oopers, as well as my roommate, who was unexpectedly diagnosed with leukemia while we were living together. I became more than a friend – I became a family member, a caretaker, a supporter. I realized that I was no longer blind to the realities of healthcare. What had seemed almost magical as a child – the ability of the doctor to heal my broken arm with just an x-ray and a cast – became less glamorous as I realized
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