Here
is a copy of what I actually wrote for my personal
statement to medical schools. Generally from what
I've heard the statement should be roughly one
page. When typed in Microsoft Word mine fit onto 1
1/3 pages. I would probably stick to something
close to that size as if it gets too long it might
not hold the readers interest as they have hundreds
to thousands of them to read. In the end I only
applied to one school and got in.
“I need to start an I.V. on this girl as soon as
possible,” I shout to my partner. I noticed she’s
only breathing about four times a minute and my
portable oxygen tank is running low fast. “I need
to start an I.V,” I think to myself again as I
squeeze the purple bag which is delivering the life
sustaining force to this girl. I’ve been unable to
check her blood pressure because most of her body
is still trapped inside this mess that was a car
only twenty minutes ago. Now it’s only slightly
more than shrapnel, remnants of things that were.
It’s approximately 10:30 PM on a Thursday. Dozens
of thoughts pass through my mind almost
instantaneously, mostly those of my continual
reassessment of this bad situation, but also the
irony that its Thursday.
When I first started my training as an Emergency Medical Technician I didn’t think bad vehicle accidents happened during the week. Looking back on it I didn’t think bad things really happened to people anyhow. All I did think was that I wanted to see what it would be like to work in a field where everyday I helped someone – maybe even save them. That’s when I decided to become and EMT, and I’ve seen and learned a lot in the past three years that I’ve worked on an ambulance. From childbirth to cardiac arrest to trauma, at some point in time I’ve probably dealt with a person in most situations. I don’t usually even think on these calls anymore, I merely act. It’s become second nature. I know that bad things happen to all people and that at some point in most individuals’ lives they will see me, or at least someone like me.
I check to see if she at least still has a radial pulse. It’s present, but faint. It won’t be there much longer. “We need rescue to expedite,” I shout to my partner who is still assessing his patient. The ad referring to “Friends don’t let friends drink and drive” pops into my head as I continue to squeeze the Ambu bag. I guess someone forgot to remind this girl. I check and notice her pupils are no longer as reactive as they were a minute ago. It’s beginning to rain again as rescue arrives to help remove this girl from the wreckage. As we pull her out from the back window of the vehicle and place her on a spinal immobilization board I suddenly realize that my feet and ears have become numb from the cold. Jumping in the back of the ambulance my partner intubates our female patient almost before she was fully inside. “Is she OK,” yells out the boyfriend to anyone listening. “We’re doing everything we can,” I say in a concentrated effort to maintain my professional calm. The I.V.s are in place now. Now all we can do is try to keep her alive long enough for the Lifestar helicopter to arrive and fly her to the Trauma 1 Center. I move to the head of my patient and begin performing a more detailed assessment of her injuries. Making a mental note to relay to the flight team I realize she has at least one obvious arm fracture, a distended abdomen, non-reactive pupils now, snoring respirations, and a host of other injuries each building on one another.
We load both patients into Lifestar’s helicopter and give our report to the crews. The unspoken truth of the situation lingers heavy in my mind. “That poor girl doesn’t have much of a chance,” was my final thought as I moved away from the makeshift helipad setup in a school parking lot. I don’t know what became of my patient that night; I just hope that maybe what I did helped her in some way to get a second chance. Over the years I have had several situations like this, several tough patients, but my choice in professions has also hindered me elsewhere. From time to time my job has become the main focus of my intellectual curiosity thus pulling attention away from coursework at the university that I usually love so much. This has undoubtedly affected my GPA, which should not be treated as a full indication of my scholarly ability. It is instead a reflection of only a portion of my diverse range of experiences and curiosities that sometimes are outside the realm of standardized learning, but can also at times serve as the greatest teachers themselves. Outside of the classroom I was able to learn the humbleness with treating homeless patients, the compassion of helping an elderly grandmother die with dignity, and the resourcefulness of children to overcome crippling disabilities to lead a normal life. Some things must be taught in a lecture hall, but others can never be. My desire is to combine all of the education I have received both in and out of school, and to use this knowledge to continue to help people on a daily basis as a physician.
When I first started my training as an Emergency Medical Technician I didn’t think bad vehicle accidents happened during the week. Looking back on it I didn’t think bad things really happened to people anyhow. All I did think was that I wanted to see what it would be like to work in a field where everyday I helped someone – maybe even save them. That’s when I decided to become and EMT, and I’ve seen and learned a lot in the past three years that I’ve worked on an ambulance. From childbirth to cardiac arrest to trauma, at some point in time I’ve probably dealt with a person in most situations. I don’t usually even think on these calls anymore, I merely act. It’s become second nature. I know that bad things happen to all people and that at some point in most individuals’ lives they will see me, or at least someone like me.
I check to see if she at least still has a radial pulse. It’s present, but faint. It won’t be there much longer. “We need rescue to expedite,” I shout to my partner who is still assessing his patient. The ad referring to “Friends don’t let friends drink and drive” pops into my head as I continue to squeeze the Ambu bag. I guess someone forgot to remind this girl. I check and notice her pupils are no longer as reactive as they were a minute ago. It’s beginning to rain again as rescue arrives to help remove this girl from the wreckage. As we pull her out from the back window of the vehicle and place her on a spinal immobilization board I suddenly realize that my feet and ears have become numb from the cold. Jumping in the back of the ambulance my partner intubates our female patient almost before she was fully inside. “Is she OK,” yells out the boyfriend to anyone listening. “We’re doing everything we can,” I say in a concentrated effort to maintain my professional calm. The I.V.s are in place now. Now all we can do is try to keep her alive long enough for the Lifestar helicopter to arrive and fly her to the Trauma 1 Center. I move to the head of my patient and begin performing a more detailed assessment of her injuries. Making a mental note to relay to the flight team I realize she has at least one obvious arm fracture, a distended abdomen, non-reactive pupils now, snoring respirations, and a host of other injuries each building on one another.
We load both patients into Lifestar’s helicopter and give our report to the crews. The unspoken truth of the situation lingers heavy in my mind. “That poor girl doesn’t have much of a chance,” was my final thought as I moved away from the makeshift helipad setup in a school parking lot. I don’t know what became of my patient that night; I just hope that maybe what I did helped her in some way to get a second chance. Over the years I have had several situations like this, several tough patients, but my choice in professions has also hindered me elsewhere. From time to time my job has become the main focus of my intellectual curiosity thus pulling attention away from coursework at the university that I usually love so much. This has undoubtedly affected my GPA, which should not be treated as a full indication of my scholarly ability. It is instead a reflection of only a portion of my diverse range of experiences and curiosities that sometimes are outside the realm of standardized learning, but can also at times serve as the greatest teachers themselves. Outside of the classroom I was able to learn the humbleness with treating homeless patients, the compassion of helping an elderly grandmother die with dignity, and the resourcefulness of children to overcome crippling disabilities to lead a normal life. Some things must be taught in a lecture hall, but others can never be. My desire is to combine all of the education I have received both in and out of school, and to use this knowledge to continue to help people on a daily basis as a physician.