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.

 

 

“Every Scar On My Face Is Worth It”

adversity

In London, an unexpected head injury led me into the hands of a plastic surgeon.  When I was rushed to the hospital via ambulance to receive the services of the National Healthcare System—the very institution that I had come to England to study—I felt nervous and frightened.  Countless questions swirled through my head as I attempted to assess the trauma I endured.  All of my questions were ultimately answered by the confident and charismatic plastic surgeon who ultimately mended my lacerated head.  The way in which he explained each step before executing it gave me much needed comfort that night.  His passion for his job and his expertise were evident, but even more so was his ability to treat me as an individual. I have no recollection of this doctor’s name nor could I spot him in a crowd; however, my perception of this man epitomizes a good doctor—someone who is passionate, a healer, and gives positive reactions to unfortunate actions.  I will not only be forever grateful to this physician, but I will forever remember what he did for me in hopes that I can do the same for someone else.

“Code99.” I heard on the overhead speakers in the hospital. Politely and quickly, I excused myself from the patient I was interviewing. Rushing to the front of the Emergency Department, I met my attending physician who had just grabbed the orange airway bag. Together we began rushing to the elevator as a set of nurses followed briskly behind with the stretcher and backboard. He clicked the basement button, and moments later the elevator doors opened. As I stepped out I saw a man on his knees, a puddle of blood adjacent to his limp body.

“Jason, Jason, are you ok?” I flashbacked to that night in London where I had received my very own head injury, when it was my shock, my limp body on the floor with blood adjacent to me.

“Does anyone have a pair of gloves,” I yelled down the hall as more people began gathering around to see what all the commotion was about. “Yes, Doctor… here,” a gentleman handed me a box of latex gloves. I put the gloves on and removed my stethoscope as I asked one of the nurses to hold it for me. Coming up behind the gentleman, I introduced myself and told him I was there to help him. I pulled him up and onto me as I laid us both onto the stretcher. Once he was safely on, I slid myself out moving to the head of the stretcher where I supported his neck as we rushed up to the ED triage area. After we stabilized him, we sent him to the CT scanner to ensure there was no internal bleeding in his head. As he came back from the CT scanner, he was now more lucid but still unsure of what had occurred. I explained to him that we observed the video footage in the hospital and it was highly possible he had suffered a seizure. I moved the loose gauze that was covering his head wound and ½ of his left eye. A 5 cm wound 2 inches above his left eyebrow looked back at me.

“Hey, I’m one of the plastic surgeons here. I hear you had a little accident. Don’t worry, I’m going to fix you right up.” One of my classmates held my hand while my mother was on the speaker phone with another one. The plastic surgeon began numbing the skin to circumvent the wound he was about to suture on my left eyebrow.

“Hello sir, I am Jason again—one of the new resident physicians here. You’ve got a decent size gash above your left eye, but don’t worry. I am going to fix you right up,” I told him as the nurse began cleaning the wound. I extracted the bupivacaine with one needle, then switched the needle on the syringe to one I could use to inject the numbing medication emulating the plastic surgeon from nine years ago. Then I grabbed the nylon suture, the needle driver and began. One suture at a time, I worked diligently and judiciously as my attending peered over my shoulder with a look of approval on his face. Five sutures later I was proud of my work. Well, I was truly proud of the many attendings, residents, and senior medical students who took time out of their hectic schedules to teach me, show me, and create for me the ability to succeed that day.

When I was done, the patient stretched out a smile on his face—he told me I had done a good job today and thanked me. His wife thanked me. And I thanked him for his service to our country and for allowing me to take care of him.

I peered back over my personal statement from medical school when I got home. I read, “I will not only be forever grateful to this physician, but I will forever remember what he did for me in hopes that I can do the same for someone else.” Today was that day. I did what he did for me.. for someone else.