The Art of Medicine
During my first week of medical school in August 1999 at the University of Pennsylvania, the associate director of minority affairs explained to me that over the next few years I would inevitably change. My chosen profession would mold me. I thought, "What's wrong with me the way I am now? I'm here to study medicine, not change my personality." Five years later, one week before my graduation, I reflect upon this conversation and realize the prophecy was correct. I have discovered that there are two aspects of medicine: science and art. While learning the science I have broadened my scope of knowledge; while learning the art I have evolved as a person. Medical school was not always the plan. No one in my family is a doctor; in fact, my sister and I were the first to finish college. 

My mother, from Puerto Rico, passed away when I was three; and my father, from New York, started college but was drafted into the military and ultimately made his career working at IBM for 24 years. We grew up in a small town in upstate New York where higher education was not a priority for many families. The expectation from my father, however, was for my sister and me to go to college, so when we turned 18 we were given the money he had saved for our education and encouraged to apply to the school of our choice. Through hard work and good fortune I was accepted to Cornell University and earned my Bachelor of Science in biology. 

Immediately after college, I wasn't prepared to choose a career. Medicine sounded appealing - a perfect blend of humanism and the sciences - but the commitment to four more years of school was initially intimidating. Instead I joined Teach For America and spent two years teaching middle school science in a Baltimore City public school. After this amazing but challenging experience I knew I was ready for medical school. I applied to several programs and ultimately chose to attend the University of Pennsylvania. 

Penn Med divided educational time between basic science lectures and clinical training. Following 18 classroom months memorizing medical facts, I set off into the clinics to apply this knowledge and finally learn the art of doctoring. I remember my first patient, a 29-year-old man with AIDS, dying in his hospital bed. Particularly I recall the details - the antiseptic smell of the room, the beeping of a near-by infusion pump, the red Kaposi's sarcoma spots covering his arms and legs, and his expression of gratitude at the time we took to listen to his concerns and discuss his condition. In this place of healing there was no cure; for this patient healing came in the form of compassion. Although I'm a perfectionist and strive to fix all, this experience helped me realize that supportive care is sometimes superior to putting a patient through every possible experimental procedure just for the slightest chance of cure.

In contrast, certain events occur in the hospital requiring immediate and often extreme interventions. In my third year of medical school I decided on neurosurgery as a specialty and spent two months completing electives on this service. It was here that I realized part of doctoring is being decisive and assertive, yet sensible under pressure. Neurosurgeons deal with some of the most intense scenarios possible, such as removing bullets from a patient's head or spine and clipping blood vessels during brain aneurysm surgery. Often during these procedures split-second decisions need to be made correctly to save a person's life. For me, functioning under pressure always came naturally, but asserting myself in a professional environment was intimidating. Practicing these skills during medical school, especially on the level required for neurosurgery, has helped me to become a stronger, more confident individual.

For a small town woman from upstate New York, the first doctor in her family, medical school provided an unprecedented learning opportunity. Through lectures and exams I memorized countless medical facts and refined my reasoning abilities. But through patient interactions, certain core values and aspects of my personality were challenged. I realized success doesn't always equal cure but can mean compassionately supporting a patient. I discovered that during intense situations I must be assertive and trust my decisions. Most importantly, I learned that in order to become the best doctor and individual possible, I must be open to change. Personal evolution is truly inevitable.