It was October 30th, 2012-- a crisp and cool fall afternoon. The halls were buzzing with excitement, as Halloween was approaching the next day. Diiiiing. The final school bell rung and we were all dismissed. I was in a hurry, as I only had ten minutes to make it down the road for the start of tennis practice. My walk progressed into a light jog as I dodged the bodies of idle students until I reached the front exit. I sprinted through the doors and ran to the crosswalk. Impatiently, I looked to my left. All clear. I looked to my right. All clear...or so I thought. I stepped into the crosswalk.
The next thing I remembered was waking up on the sizzling, hot ground. My body felt numb and a strange heat radiated through my bones. By the time I finally opened my eyes, I woke to a blurred frenzy of apprehensive faces. I began to sit up, but was pushed right back down and ordered not to move. My mind entered a state of utter confusion. I could not fathom what had taken place; no one would tell me. The most peculiar part of it all was that I had a feeling that I had never experienced before. For in that moment, I could not decipher whether I was dead or alive. It seemed as if all forms of life had exited my body. I snapped back into reality when I heard a lady speaking on the phone with the police. She reported that they needed an ambulance immediately— that a high school girl had been hit by a speeding teen driver going around 40 miles per hour in a school zone. "Could that girl be me?" I pondered. I felt no feelings of pain, but only the buzzing radiation of heat and a jumbled state of perplexity. Before my mind could process all of this new information, three paramedics stood over me, rolled me onto a stiff board and loaded me into the back of an ambulance. Never in my life had I felt a pain so sharp and so excruciating. I underwent a reconstructive knee surgery, was treated in the hospital, and eventually returned home. Weeks passed by.
For months, I used my injury as an excuse in school. My grades were slipping, but I blamed it on all of the days that I had to miss. Missing so many hours of class at once really hindered my learning process. However, as third term rolled around, I realized what I was doing was wrong. I realized just because I could not use one setback as an excuse to stop trying. That wasn't who I was and it was not who I wanted to be. I then made the decision to stop taking life for granted.
It took me a lot longer to realize I could have easily died that day. I could have been just another statistic, just another number. My family and friends would have mourned for a short time, but the world would not have cared. And in spite of knowing all of that, I was unappreciative of the life that I was left with. Thus, I decided it was my turn to give back. By the grace of God, I was lucky to be spared that day. Therefore, I feel the urge to return the favor to Him and to the world. I want to give others the same opportunity that I had. I want to become a doctor, so that I too can hold the power to salvage one's vitality.
The day of my accident was probably the worst day of my life, but it a strange way, it was also the best day. If it weren't for that day, I would not have made the decision to enter the vast field of medicine and thus to explore the human body and its complexities. I would not have acquired the desire to save others, to reach out and aid our brothers and sisters in Christ.
But most importantly, I would not have made the decision to make a difference in this world; the decision to preserve the most precious gift of all time: life.
