I’ve wanted to be a doctor for a long time. I’m pretty sure it started with Grey’s Anatomy, the well-known and extremely dramatic doctor soap opera that ended up sparking inspiration for the seventeen other doctor shows currently on television. I’ve done more crying than I care to admit over the content and characters of that series, and I finally decided to give myself a mental break after six solid seasons, most of which I binge-watched on a window seat in my bedroom during the rainy season. This, of course, did little to help the downpour of tears over a bus crash or a bomb or a gunshot or whatever heart disease or liver infection Shonda Rhymes could think of that week.
It went way beyond that though. I began reading books about medicine, studying more rigorous, medical-based classes by choice, and I even started a collection of preserved animals to put on shelves in my room – which is really just an empty shelf and a collection of hopes that my more distant family members won’t freak out when I send them a link to my Amazon wish list. I attended a medical careers camp at UCF that really opened my eyes to the different majors and concentrations within the medical field, and to this day I’m reciting facts that I learned there, showing photos of eyeballs and dead bodies, and liking pictures on Instagram that my old camp counselors have posted. Last semester, I held the highest grade in my human biology college class, and a solid ninety-one percent in medical terminology.
My human biology class was truly a blessing. Thankfully, both of my medical-related classes are taught by the same professor – a small middle eastern woman who teaches more than a handful of college classes at different levels and subjects relating to science, and who now loves me because of my high grades in both of her classes. My level of participation? Flawless. Accuracy? Usually near perfect. Extra credit? Finished before the due date. Love for science, and a hook up with a real live infectious diseases doctor? Priceless.
The point is, I love medicine, and I love learning, and not only have these classes strengthened my love for science and medicine, but they have built my vocabulary, learning strategies, and self confidence as well. Now that I’m applying to colleges, I can really recognize the passion that bubbles in my blood. I’m nervous, but I’m more excited than ever.
The moral of this story? It's never too early or late to follow your dreams or pick a major. If you have the means and will, it's never a bad idea to pick classes and activities outside of your intended career. It's okay to be unique in your learning curve and crave new knowledge. It's never a permanent struggle. And, perhaps most importantly, never be afraid to be passionate.
