Writing A Personal Statement: Who Are You and Who Do You Want To Be? Tell Me!

Mentorship

Every time I hear someone mention they are lacking a mentor or guidance I cringe. One of the true disadvantages in this world is having no one to call a mentor. Many applications require personal statements and without guidance this part of the process can be very daunting. I hope my personal statement from 2018, below,  for a residency position in a department of anesthesiology might help. Here’s my essay:

My first experience under general anesthesia was terrifying. A whirlwind of emotions taunted me as I laid in the pre-operative suite. On one hand, I was excited to finally get my torn labrum repaired; however, I was anxious about the anesthetic aspect of the operation. The anesthesiologist also recommended a nerve block to help with postoperative pain control. Even as a first-year medical student, attempting to understand lower extremity anatomy and the mechanism underlying local anesthetics was unnerving. Despite feeling unsettled due to my limited knowledge of the procedure, the anesthesiologist gained my trust only after five minutes of interaction. His demeanor, empathetic manner and smile—a very caring one—gave me the desire to pursue a career in anesthesiology. I admired his ability to swiftly ease my fear of receiving general anesthesia. This reminded me of my experience with AmeriCorps (City Year DC) in which I worked countless hours with students on various English and mathematic assignments. During my year-long experience, I helped the students grow more comfortable with their studies, their public speaking and increased their desire to learn. This service year required many hours of multi-tasking, working as a team player, and working well under pressure. These attributes will translate into the field of anesthesiology, allowing me to excel.

I have known for a very long time that I wanted to be a physician, yet I was unsure of which specialty.

Following my surgical clerkship, I began a rotation at Nationwide Children’s Hospital in pediatric anesthesiology. I love children thus I entered this rotation excited for the opportunity to serve this patient population. Small in stature but powerful in their own right, the pediatric patients undergoing surgery left a lasting impression. I realized that caring for the pediatric population is more than an “interaction.” The young boys and girls were scared as they minimally understood their situation except that they were being separated from their parents. The ability for the anesthesiologist to simultaneously calm these patients while placing the parents at ease was nothing short of an art. In a way, the pediatric anesthesiologist is forced to bridge the gap of the health care provider and friend. This evidenced the notion that trust is not earned by who we are but rather by what we do. I watched as Dr. Whitaker sat on a patient’s bed and inquired about the name of the stuffed animal she was cuddling tightly. She did not care too much about Dr. Whitaker’s occupation, but rather her newfound excitement was directed at his most recent question. At that moment–eager to experience that same level of patient interaction one day–I began contemplating a career in pediatric anesthesiology.

The pediatric patients from Nationwide Children’s Hospital shaped my desire to not only serve, but illuminated how a life in service to children is a life worth living. It is incredible to fathom that the face of the anesthesiologist is the last and first person a patient sees before and after a surgical procedure, respectively. Although–quantitatively limited in patient interaction compared to other specialties, from a qualitative standpoint an anesthesiologist’s interaction highlights the importance of compassion and enthusiasm. These are qualities that I possess and will afford me the ability, if given the opportunity, to fully care for my future patients. This specialty will allow me the flexibility to pursue being a highly competent clinical-educator, to conduct minority health disparities research analyzing anesthesia-related outcomes on various ethnic populations and to augment the relationship between anesthesiologists and surgeons to improve the overall patient outcome. Observing Dr. Whitaker and the pediatric patients has shaped my desire to pursue a career in the field of anesthesiology.

 

 

I’m a Black Student-Athlete Turned Physician: What Colin Kaepernick and Nike Really Mean

Race, Uncategorized

Please see below for my Op Ed published on 9/14/18 in THE OREGONIAN.

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I sat in a football stadium for the Ohio State Buckeyes vs the Nebraska Cornhuskers game on Nov. 5, 2016, three days before the presidential election. About 108,000 screaming fans surrounded me, but I only remember three.

To my right were two white gentlemen wearing “Make America Great Again” baseball caps. This was the first sporting event I attended since Colin Kaepernick, former San Francisco 49ers player began kneeling during the anthem in protest against police brutality against African-Americans.

I stood up. I removed my hat. These actions were done not because I didn’t vehemently stand against police brutality, but because I felt standing for the anthem was the ‘right thing to do’ for me.

Yet all the while, I could imagine all eyes on me.

As I stood, there came laughter from behind, a few seats to my left. An older white gentleman, likely in his 50s, yelled over at one of his buddies, “Hey, hey, look at me. I’m going to kneel,” mocking me and all of what Kaepernick represented. I suddenly felt alone and exposed, maybe even a little afraid. Being there, supporting a team and university that had given me so much, no longer felt like home. The sporting event took a new form as my attention turned from the football game to the underlying game.

The same man who mocked Colin Kaepernick’s kneeling cheered for each move the young black male athletes made. The same men, celebrating their support of then-presidential candidate Donald Trump, clapped enthusiastically as the young black male athletes scored point after point for their beloved team.

Supporting and voting for President-elect Donald Trump is not supposed to be incompatible with supporting black athletes, but with recent events, one naturally must question the growing disconnection. The truth is, many of us black males cannot feel calm as we have to constantly look outside of ourselves in order to visualize how our present and future actions might be perceived by others. It’s part of growing up as a black male in America.

Growing up as a black male athlete in America adds more complexity — and becoming a black male physician even more.

As a black male I am unnerved by the stories I read about current or former athletes sustaining injuries leading to a fall from grace. That leads to a harsh realization that they are no longer “needed,” with little to account for all of their hours of dedication. Basketball courts, tracks, football fields and athletic arenas are bursting with black men excelling every day, rain or shine.

The time has come for us to redefine our own values and to focus our potential in different ways. With the right direction and guidance, that same excellence and discipline can easily transition into the libraries, research laboratories and clinical rooms where we are currently sparse.

The beauty lies not in the fact that we have to choose one over the other, but in what I believe and personally know to be true: Black men can excel in both realms. It is time that we stop letting others limit us as we move forward.

That’s what Nike and Colin Kaepernick mean.

 

 

 

 

Sent From My iPhone

Uncategorized

“We have reviewed your application once again for admission to our school of medicine and we regret to inform you that you have not been granted an interview at this time.” I scrolled down & it was signed by the Director of Admissions—a name with M.B.A behind it. And then I scrolled down further and read the signature…

“Sent from my iPhone.”

A tear streamed down my right cheek. I felt like a volcano that had erupted—full of frustration, anger & sadness. I was devastated. The words, “Life is hard for those who dream” kept scrolling through my head. I was in the downstairs bedroom of my parent’s home. At that moment, it was very likely that my mother was upstairs above me, just a few feet away. I don’t know for a fact, but I felt like there was a mirror image of myself upstairs at the dining room table in the form of my mother. Of all people in the world, she was the one I did not want to disappoint desiring so badly to carry on the legacy she has scuplted.  The first African-American woman in the country to receive a Ph.D. in Epidemiology. Despite her many accolades, at that point in time I think the only care in the world she had was for her son to be accepted into medical school. When I had graduated from Emory and was enthusiastically off-track, if you will, she spoke with one of her colleagues; a medical school advisor she knew well asking that he bestow upon me guidance and direction. And was it too simple to think the University that she works so hard for so many hours of the day, leading their mission of improving health disparities would at least offer an interview to her son? By title, She is the Associate Dean! If having one’s parents as alumni can help secure legacy status, what was going on here? Was that not customary? I rolled back onto my bed in the fetal position. What’s next? What could be next? This is the institution where I envisioned my white coat ceremony, match day ceremony and graduation occurring. But all I can remember is the thoughtlessly blasé “Sent from my iPhone.”

I was like many other pre-medical students at the time. I felt that since I had gone to a stellar, well-known undergraduate institution, the same would occur for my medical school education. But one thing I had to recognize was that your undergraduate institution doesn’t automatically lead to the medical school you enter—nothing is guaranteed. I have learned many things as I approach thirty years old, but nothing as sincere as the notion that entitlement is precarious, perhaps even dangerous. We fall into these easy expectations and if they do not come to fruition, we fall apart & don’t know how to pick ourselves up again. The moment you feel like you deserve something is the moment it slips through your grasp. In that very moment when you look up wishing & praying a leaf falls that was meant for you to catch, it may or may not but let me tell you about my leaves. I interviewed at Ohio State on January 22nd. Heading to the airport, I looked back at the large OSU Wexner Signage feeling as though I was actually leaving my home rather than my interview. A few weeks later, I signed into my newly-created Ohio State portal only to find a “wait-listed” next to my name. Many months later as I was tutoring a high school student, my phone began buzzing on the desk. I quickly uncovered it and saw a number with a 614-area code. There it was, the call I had been waiting so impatiently for. The director of admissions at Ohio State College of Medicine asked me, “Jason, are you still interested in Ohio State?” “Yes,” I exhaled. I felt like I had been holding my breath for 5 months and finally I could breathe again.

I drove home one breath at a time.