When I was a young girl of only fifteen years of age, the only stability in my life was snatched away from me. My dad, who played the role of mother and father, passed away due to a horrendous fight with lung cancer at the age of sixty-seven. After countless appointments with multiple oncologists, many sleepless nights, and four unforgettable months, I lost my dad to this consuming and monstrous disease.
Toward the end of my freshman year in high school, my father was diagnosed with stage four, small cell carcinoma lung cancer, and our summer plans suddenly shifted directions. We traded happy, sunny days on the lake for a gloomy hospital room that only had the joy of loved one’s company. At night, I found myself lying awake hoping and praying that there was something I could do to take away, or ease the pain he faced so seemingly cursively, but yet so bravely. With every “beep” of a machine and irregular breathe he took, I formed what I call my “sixth sense”. I spent every moment of every day wondering if it would be his last one. I watched my dad fight for each breath that he took determined to make every one count. Observing and participating in this heart-wrenching process taught me indomitable courage. When he was able to be at home instead of the hospital, my sisters and I would cater to his every whim, want and need at home. Six o’clock in the morning, every morning, my day began with food preparation. I would make him his daily breakfast consisting of: biscuits and gravy, two scrambled eggs, red link sausage, and topping it off with a large glass of milk which was his favorite. After breakfast it was time for what he called his “unnecessary breathing things” and his “handful of morning horse pills”. At his request, I would give him his breathing treatments in addition to the required and prescribed morning medications. The same routine happened at every meal. For lunch I would prepare crab stuffed tuna patties and pimento cheese crackers with a boost milkshake for him to enjoy. Dinner generally consisted of: lemon pepper tilapia, baked potatoes, yeast rolls, cheesecake for dessert and if I could coax him into it, an occasional salad. Although my sisters had more years of living and definitely more experience with situations like his, he usually only accepted his meals and medication from me. This taught me responsibility and commitment to a cause. With my dad being in and out of the hospital that summer, I also learned how crucial positivity was in these types of situations and how much I enjoyed making it easier for him to handle his devastating disease. These trials provided me with the four qualities afore-mentioned, that I believe are imperative to being successful in the medical field and in life, for that matter.
With at least eight years of pre-med and medical school ahead of me, as well as, two to four years of residency, it appears that the next twelve years of my life will definitely be spent in intense preparation for my future career. However, in reality, I began preparation for my future at the end of my ninth grade year when his death drove my personal and academic goals beyond that of the average high school freshman. I challenged myself to take advanced placement classes and become more involved with my church as well as with the community. I became a part of a phenomenal youth group and even decided to relocate to a larger school at the end of
my sophomore year which offered more of the advanced classes. Here, I not only got to choose to take as many AP classes as I could, but also, as a leader to my peers as well as to the school, an opportunity to volunteer with American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life crossed my path.
With no social security benefits granted to me, I was forced into the working world. I began to work at a local tanning salon as a bed cleaner for about five months until I was offered a better paying job at which I currently continue to work. In addition I obtained a second job to aid in the support of my extras: phone, insurance, car payment, gas and other incidentals. I truly understand the value of hard work coupled with determination to make a success of myself.
At the time of my father’s untimely death, I was unaware of the “good” that could come out of this horrible situation with my dad’s disease. Although I grieved terribly over my loss, I soon realized that becoming a pulmonologist was my future. The study and concentration of pulmonology is now my passion and becoming a specialist is my goal. However, the cost of college and medical school is outrageously steep and without assistance certainly would be cost prohibitive. Financial aid, grants, donations and scholarships are crucial and essential to the
success of my career, and receiving this scholarship would definitely be a blessing and an asset in this journey. My “grandparents” (actually my cousins on my father’s side) who work hard for everything we have, unfortunately cannot afford to send me to the more prestigious colleges which offer the type of academic rigor which I need to achieve this goal because they frequently have equally rigorous tuition requirements. In fact, based on my research, the schools that would benefit me the most because of their academic rigor, also come with a higher price tag! Because an excellent education is my top priority (after God of course), be assured that this opportunity for financial assistance will be very well utilized. With this assistance, I believe I will someday soon help make a difference in this world by making someone’s life either better, longer, both or hopefully assist in their complete recovery. The opportunity of this scholarship would indeed be a wise investment for the good of many.