Why Medicine

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Editorial and Opinion  |  House: Booksie Classic

The reason why I choose to study medicine

Inspiration for this essay came from a scholarship requirement listed at www.DrugNews.net#sthash.Mm7TRmBJ.fQ3XwsSZ.dpuf

I didn’t always want to join the medical field; actually up until I was thirteen I thought that I would become a teacher. However, my maternal grandfather, or papa as we fondly called him, influenced my desire to explore medicine as a way to help those who cannot help themselves. My papa was a vital part of my life; the term grandfather doesn’t even begin to describe who he was: he was a babysitter, a treat giver, an adventure seeker, a ‘taxi driver’, an instigator, a best friend, and every so often he was a voice of reason.
Shortly after I turned thirteen my grandfather stopped regulating his diabetes which caused his sugar sky rocket, and he became comatose. It was devastating to learn of his condition, and that devastation only grew when we were told the doctors had discovered a tumor in his brain, and diagnosed him with dementia. There are no words to describe how I was feeling; although his chances of waking up were good, it was likely that he wasn’t going to be the same man that I grew up with.
During the several days that my papa was in a coma, and the several weeks that he spent in the hospital, I frantically searched for some way to help him, some medicine to cure him. My search was in vain; although his sugar could be regulated, his dementia could not be cured. The focus of my research then changed to coping with dementia and how as a family we could move forward. After he was released from the hospital, he was placed in a nursing home that was capable of providing twenty four hour support for all of his medical needs.
During his first few weeks at the nursing home, I felt that we had made the wrong decision, that he should return back home, because to me there seemed to be nothing wrong with him. Compared to other patients, who asked for their deceased parents, he seemed fine; he was young only sixty-two and all the other patients were in their eighties or nineties. In hindsight I know that my parents were right to send him there; that because of his diabetes he couldn’t afford to forget to take his insulin, but at the time all I wanted was normality.
It wasn’t until his last few weeks of life that I realized just how bad he had gotten. He spent four years in the nursing home, but his major decline in health and memory wasn’t until the very end. In his bed no longer laid my grandfather, but instead there was a stranger. He looked worn and could not remember what he did just a few minutes ago; he was confused as to who my sister and I were. It was devastating to lose him in such a way.
Retrospection allows me to see how much his illness changed by outlook on life. The whole time that he was living in the nursing home I kept looking for some way to bring back the old him, the healthy him. I dedicated my free time and elective classes to science hoping that if he could just live until I could graduate, that I might have enough knowledge to help him. Following his death I did not give up on my desire to help the sick and needy, but instead his loss pushes me to continue in my search for ways to help those that like my grandfather were unable to help themselves. 

 

 


Submitted: July 31, 2015

© Copyright 2022 B Renee. All rights reserved.

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