ON STAYING
I was so sure. We had signed a lease, applied for jobs, and told everyone that I was leaving school.
And then I went home.
I heard about his shingles, and the trouble he had with his medicines and his doctors and getting to his appointments.
I remembered the picture of the doctor on the wall of my grandparent's house, because they loved her so much.
I heard another's frustrations about the surgery being rescheduled three different times, every time shuffling work schedules and extending the time without pain meds.
I remembered just how much the good doctors meant to us when Daddy was continuously having surgeries, scans, and biopsies.
I heard another's crackly lungs...his wheezes audible from across the room. He told me about his wonderful doctor that calls in his medicine for him so he doesn't have to be out in the bad weather, and chance getting another illness.
I remembered the ice cream bucket of pills my Grandpa had to take, and the help that he needed to sort out all of his and Grandma's medicines.
I thought on these things and with every twinge of my heart, I remembered why I got into all of this in the first place.
I didn't start this to make money, or to wear a white coat. I didn't come to Morgantown because I liked science, or because I wanted something that would offer job security.
I decided to become a doctor because I saw dear, deserving people in an uphill battle with a system that is rigged, and not in their favor. I felt deeply the need in my community, and God gave me the opportunity and placed in me the ability and the desire to meet it.
I grew up watching Mommy meet the medical needs of everyone around us not in the clinic, but in their homes. She bandaged his nose, she gave her her shots, she dressed his wound, she took his blood pressure, she checked her medicines, she knew a way for him to get something cheaper, she checked her sugar, she advocated for all of them. I watched her do this joyfully and freely and I wanted to be just like her.
Then I saw countless others do the same. Tina, Shawn, Rita, Linda, Becky, and more.
I saw what it can mean to people to have a medical professional in their corner. I saw the difference some knowledge and access to resources can have.
I saw the impact that can be made by a little bit of education and a whole lot of heart.
Ultimately, this is why I'm here. Not for me, but for them.
For the ones who may not have a fighting chance if no one fights for them, or the ones who need just a little more time and explanation, or the ones who are scared and sad and not sure what to do next.
Because life and living aren't meant to be doled out based on how many zeros are at the end of your paycheck, or what part of the region you live in, or how much medical jargon you understand.
I see how medicine tries to be fair, but there are some disparities that a system just cannot overcome.
People though...that's what can tip the scales.
Medicine's greatest weapons aren't antibiotics, MRIs, pacemakers, laparoscopic technologies, or vaccines (please, please vaccinate your kids, though).
Our greatest weapons against death, disease, and the hopelessness in the face of uncertainty are our people. The nurses, aids, doctors, secretaries, therapists, social workers, administrators, insurance specialists, pharmacists, etc, etc, etc are the ones who have the power to change the face of medicine, and thereby change lives...lives that are worth giving it absolutely everything we have.
And then I went home.
I heard about his shingles, and the trouble he had with his medicines and his doctors and getting to his appointments.
I remembered the picture of the doctor on the wall of my grandparent's house, because they loved her so much.
I heard another's frustrations about the surgery being rescheduled three different times, every time shuffling work schedules and extending the time without pain meds.
I remembered just how much the good doctors meant to us when Daddy was continuously having surgeries, scans, and biopsies.
I heard another's crackly lungs...his wheezes audible from across the room. He told me about his wonderful doctor that calls in his medicine for him so he doesn't have to be out in the bad weather, and chance getting another illness.
I remembered the ice cream bucket of pills my Grandpa had to take, and the help that he needed to sort out all of his and Grandma's medicines.
I thought on these things and with every twinge of my heart, I remembered why I got into all of this in the first place.
My brother Tanner with Grandma Helen |
I didn't start this to make money, or to wear a white coat. I didn't come to Morgantown because I liked science, or because I wanted something that would offer job security.
I decided to become a doctor because I saw dear, deserving people in an uphill battle with a system that is rigged, and not in their favor. I felt deeply the need in my community, and God gave me the opportunity and placed in me the ability and the desire to meet it.
I grew up watching Mommy meet the medical needs of everyone around us not in the clinic, but in their homes. She bandaged his nose, she gave her her shots, she dressed his wound, she took his blood pressure, she checked her medicines, she knew a way for him to get something cheaper, she checked her sugar, she advocated for all of them. I watched her do this joyfully and freely and I wanted to be just like her.
Then I saw countless others do the same. Tina, Shawn, Rita, Linda, Becky, and more.
I saw what it can mean to people to have a medical professional in their corner. I saw the difference some knowledge and access to resources can have.
I saw the impact that can be made by a little bit of education and a whole lot of heart.
Ultimately, this is why I'm here. Not for me, but for them.
For the ones who may not have a fighting chance if no one fights for them, or the ones who need just a little more time and explanation, or the ones who are scared and sad and not sure what to do next.
Because life and living aren't meant to be doled out based on how many zeros are at the end of your paycheck, or what part of the region you live in, or how much medical jargon you understand.
I see how medicine tries to be fair, but there are some disparities that a system just cannot overcome.
People though...that's what can tip the scales.
Medicine's greatest weapons aren't antibiotics, MRIs, pacemakers, laparoscopic technologies, or vaccines (please, please vaccinate your kids, though).
Our greatest weapons against death, disease, and the hopelessness in the face of uncertainty are our people. The nurses, aids, doctors, secretaries, therapists, social workers, administrators, insurance specialists, pharmacists, etc, etc, etc are the ones who have the power to change the face of medicine, and thereby change lives...lives that are worth giving it absolutely everything we have.
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