When I was a kid, my parents always used to tell me the phrase, “Health is wealth.” As I grew, I noticed how this represented the plight in the real world. Oftentimes, health problems lead to financial difficulties due to healthcare expenses. Therefore, preventative medicine and accessible healthcare can make it easier for people to affordably maintain their health. This is particularly why I would like to open and work in community clinics in areas where health care is not as accessible or affordable. Through my experiences, I have witnessed the impact of education on preventing certain outcomes; this can be applied to health. By emphasizing lifestyle changes and providing patients with appropriate tools, I hope to support patients in leading healthier lives, both mentally and physically. This is especially why I want to be a pediatrician so that I can ensure that children can grow up to have healthy mindsets and lifestyles. Furthermore, I would also like to work with the government on changing health policies to help eliminate disparities between different socioeconomic groups. So, I hope to work in diverse communities to hear the perspectives of people who are often marginalized; I believe that this will allow me to develop personalized and affordable healthcare practices and will provide me with the information to develop inclusive policies. Ultimately, I want to make medicine more inclusive and personalized as I have seen the struggles immigrants, people with disabilities, and people of color have faced within the American health care system.

Parents. They come from an older generation. They are set in their ways, and they don't know how to react to things opposite of their views. My parents are the same. Nonetheless, they only want people to live their best lives, but my parents still used to hold some harmful prejudices. I remember when my mom first saw a male wearing makeup. She wrinkled her nose and squinted her eyebrows as a sign of disapproval. She followed this up by saying, "That does not look right." I was shocked. My knee-jerk reaction was to tell my mom, "How could you say that?" While I did initially say something similar, I asked her, "Why can't everyone wear make-up? Why does someone's sex determine if they can wear makeup?" If I just reprimanded her for her human reaction, it would not have made my mom think about her judgement and it would not have changed her perspective. Asking her questions made her think in someone else's shoes. I do not know if this same approach would have worked with someone else because my mom usually listens to reason. She's an immigrant housewife whose ideas about the world are limited to her friend circle and her daily Indian dramas. She is only exposed to certain people and does not have the opportunity to always think beyond her beliefs. Thus, she does not know much about the LGBTQIA+ community. Growing up in India, she was surrounded by fixed beliefs of relationships. When I was telling her about me being asexual or my friends being bisexual, she was confused and taken aback. Again I asked her another set of questions. "How did you know you wanted to marry nana (dad in Telugu)?" "I knew he would take care of me and love me. I felt safe with him," my mom responded pretty immediately. "So, you're saying love and trust are the cornerstones of most relationships?" She nodded and looked at me wondering what I was about to ask next. "Considering that is the case, do sex and gender really matter when it comes to love and trust? Why can't people just be who they want to be and love who they want to love? The way you love nana is the way others love as well. As long as they're with people who treat them right, does it matter who they're with?" I saw the realization hit her. It was like explaining how addition works to a first grader. Children hate the thought of addition when they first hear of it. The fear behind it makes them think it's an absurdity. But once it's explained to them and they see the practicality of it, they continue using it for the rest of their lives. My mother was unable to understand initially, but she eventually came to see what it means when we say "people should get to be who they want to be and live the way they want to live." After years of having these conversations, my mom finally supported my asexuality and became an ally for the LGBTQIA+ community. It was endearing to see her growth, and it showed me how these conversations can bring about the change we want for this world. While it may not always work, understanding how people learn can show us how we can grow towards of world of acceptance and encouragement. Of course, I still have my own biases to work on; these conversations motivated me to educate myself and understand the various insights many communities have. There's hope for change.

'Cross the line'. This game has many names, but the whole point is for people to learn each other's stories. I was a facilitator at my high school's mental health awareness day. We were playing this game, and it was bewildering to see people's truths as they crossed the line. Questions about suicide, loss, and addiction were answered as students walked across the room. As a student and adolescent myself, the experience helped me understand my peers from a different level, and it reminded me of some of my own battles through growing up. As we sat down after the activity, a student was brought to tears as she recounted her story of almost taking her own life. Just seeing her in tears and knowing that there were students dealing with this on a daily basis was enough to break me. I think it reminded me of my own suicidal ideation and the feeling of not being able to open up. I could not stop crying. I had to excuse myself even though I was one of the students in charge of leading these discussions. That day made me realize how much we hide behind our smiles; even when we were sitting and having these conversations, many students were hesitant to share. They did not want people's perspectives of them to change. I realized this thought process was a flaw in our society. We are so used to sharing the good parts that we rarely talk about the darkness we deal with. As I grew older, I continued to see this sadness that people hid away. In college, I saw people push beyond their limits. Their sleep, hunger, and every basic necessity were ignored for the sake of success. Failure was not an option. I was struggling so much myself as I was engulfed by anxieties with the competition that was controlling our lives. We were all striving to be the best for our careers, but we did not even have the time or energy to focus on our mental health. Our university did provide mental health resources, and although they were helpful to someone like me, the resources were not always sufficient or personalized enough. Unlike many students, I had the privilege of a supportive family as I commuted from home. My family was by my side through my various struggles, but many students are away from home for the first time in their life. I know that some students did succumb to their mental health struggles, and it was saddening to see that the university did not thoroughly address this loss. I would hear about lives lost online as students brought up obituaries, but there was no sign of this on university mental health letters. The stigma around mental health was evident. And people were ashamed to talk about what they were going through. They saw it as a weakness. Why? We reach out when we have the flu or a broken bone, but why don't we reach out when our mind is in a difficult spot. I learned soon how badly people want to reach out; it's hard to when you're scared of being judged. “I don’t know how to tell anyone,” is a sentiment I often hear as a Crisis Text Line (CTL) counselor when individuals share their experiences with abuse, depression, and suicidal thoughts. CTL is a last resort for many, especially those contemplating suicide while suffering from difficult external and internal circumstances. The hardest conversation I had was when it was almost too late. The pills were in their body, and no one except me knew about the battle in their head; a part of them wanted to survive which is why they texted in. My fingers urgently typed, “You deserve support and safety. An ambulance can be sent to you if you provide your information.” The gaps between their messages grew longer as the gaps between my breaths grew shorter. As they sent in their address, the ambulance sirens echoed in my head; they accepted the support they were looking for. Society’s stigma towards mental health makes it difficult for people to speak up sooner. Since doctors are the first point of contact for many, I hope to change this narrative during medical visits, when noticing symptoms like dramatic weight loss, a tone change, rapid breathing, and, in response, make checkups safe spaces for patients to voice concerns. I want to develop a healthy rapport with my patients by consistently checking up on them to understand how factors like culture and relationships affect their health. My dream is to become a pediatrician and step in and support children and adolescents through what they are going through. For young people, it is the first time they face some of these mental battles. When someone gives them a hand, they'll have the strength and confidence to speak up. I know that my pediatrician saved me so many times during my teenage years. "Are you okay?" was all she needed to say for me to open up.

Whenever you come to this country, you are always faced with the fear that everything could be snatched away from you and that "home" is not permanent. Although I was born in India, my parents and I came to America when I was a toddler. Growing up, I saw the uncertainty and instability they faced moving jobs, cities, and friends all while hanging onto life relying on a visa. When you are not a citizen or do not have a green card, you are left in a gray area where you do not know what your next step is and whether you will have to move back to your home country. While we were privileged in the sense that we got a visa to enter this country, I know that there are many others who have to cross the border to try to find a better life and escape the struggles in their countries. It should not be this hard to move to a new place and have the opportunity to get the necessary benefits like health, shelter, and belief in a permanent home. And when you pair this with the communication differences due to culture and language, it makes it even harder for immigrant families like mine to fit in and be accepted. Despite being known as a melting pot of culture, America struggles to accept outsiders as their own. If we look into the past, America even failed to take more Jewish refugees during World War II. More lives would have been saved if there was more concern for others outside of the country who are seeking safety and shelter. With the diversity that exists, I have still seen many immigrants struggle to find support in the language they feel comfortable with and to top it off, I have seen the racism they face on a daily basis. Sometimes, it is subtle, and sometimes, it is outright. For example, my mother, whose primary language is not English, struggles to explain her health concerns at the doctor's office. Even when she successfully elaborates upon her health issues, she has dealt with doctors who have dismissed her concerns. Despite her showing agony in her responses, it was like they saw her pain as illegitimate. She gave up on going to the hospital; it caused her anxiety because she did not want her pain to be invalidated. When she found a doctor who came from the same cultural background and spoke the same language, my mother finally felt safe at the doctor's office. More than language, it was her doctor's understanding of the immigrant perspective that made my mother comfortable. The understanding of what it means to be a 'melting pot'. Her new doctor validated my mother's health concerns. With inherent biases and ignorant beliefs, people sometimes dismiss the struggles of others. It is what we see in the case of maternal mortality rates among Black women. While Black women are in labor, oftentimes, their pain is not taken seriously; this dismissal of symptoms often leads to death in these pregnant women. My mother's story and the stories of other immigrant families, minorities, and voiceless people really broke my heart. It was not fair that they were not even getting proper medical care while struggling with the other injustices in their life. Wanting to create equity within society for all the basic needs, I aspired to become a doctor. As a future physician, not only do I want to provide affordable and accessible healthcare, I also want to change health and environmental policy to create a better home for people. Additionally, I want to work on educating people about the importance of providing everyone with basic needs like shelter and food to ensure good mental and physical health. Our priorities should be on peace and growth, not on war and power. Having seen what I have seen and what I have learned from those around me, I want to be the medical provider who validates the stories of people who come from all backgrounds; I want to hear my patients thoroughly and make sure they get the care they get. I know that there are many others who believe in this mission to make this world a safer and healthier place no matter which country you are in, and one day, I hope to collaborate with all these people to make that happen. I have faith that it will, and it is in our hands.

Sometimes, my mom tells me about her mischievous adventures in the fields of her mother's hometown. She recounts the clean, comfortable air of the fields and how they'd pick mangoes off of a nearby tree for a quick snack. She didn't grow up in a financially stable or supportive household, but she always looks back on that time with a smile on her face. In a time where I was struggling to feel connected to the earth in the confined suburbia I live in, these stories inspired me. I wanted my peers and future generations to live in a world where they can have these simple yet joyful experiences in nature. With these newfound ideas, I eventually turned to veganism and learned how a diverse diet filled with simple natural foods can drastically improve the health of humans and the earth they live on. I've grown a lot since becoming vegan, but to fill gaps in my knowledge, I read books and articles showcasing contrasting perspectives to understand ways to protect the environment in long-lasting ways. I'm constantly curious about other's perspectives and don't hesitate to ask about their experiences so that I can understand how their unique positions in society affect their contributions to the environment. In an attempt to reduce my food waste and have a more sustainable diet, I've started growing my own vegetables to use in home-cooked meals filled with a variety of whole foods rich in nutrients. I have encouraged others to adopt a plant-based diet and if they can, a vegan lifestyle. I understand this is not feasible for a lot of people, and that's ok. The main intention of veganism is to be mindful of your consumption, so people can use it as a framework to live in moderation. It is our responsibility to live in harmony with the other species that exist on this planet. With the industrialization of farming, the diversity within produce has also decreased. This has reduced soil health and fertility significantly and has decreased biodiversity. Many people are adopting the principle of crop rotating in their farms; I believe that the more this is done at the global and individual level, the more we can do to help the species depending on these plants. As one of the most dangerous predators out there, humans have majorly disrupted the balance in the ecosystem. Animals are constantly being added to the endangered and extinct lists. Factory farming and climate change are just a few of the many harmful effects of the human hand. I want to do more to stop these negative effects and prevent them from further impacting the world. As a future healthcare provider and current medical student, I want to find ways to reduce medical waste and to encourage patients to adopt more plant-based diets to help their health and the planet. Improving our health and our planet's health starts with us, and we can change the direction of our future sooner rather than later.

Let's go way back. All the way to elementary school. You may be wondering, "how could an elementary school teacher impact your higher education journey?" To be honest, she was the one who inspired my love for learning. Mrs. Quiray, my first and second-grade teacher, changed the way I learned. English was my second language at the time, and school was not the friendliest place. I was bullied constantly for the bhindi on my forehead, for my personality, and for the way I looked. Mrs. Quiray always supported me through these challenges, but she especially pushed me to face the challenges in education. She believed in me more than my own parents did. At the time, I was quite the distracted child and spent more time in my head than in the classroom. Mrs. Quiray did not give up and pulled me out of my dreams and into reality. That did not mean she stopped my dreams--she just helped me find a balance between the dream world and reality. With her help, I ended up at the highest reading level in my class, I went to class with my eyes wide open and ready to learn, and I bravely faced my bullies as I knew I had her support. It was the first time I felt the true desire to learn and take up academic risks. She pushed me to ask big questions, and if it was not for her support, I do not think I would have become the person I am. I am now going to medical school because of the value of education and service that she built in me. I hope to educate and provide for my patients as Mrs. Quiray did. She showed me my inner teacher and learner, and it has helped me face any challenge bravely. There is a teacher in every one of us, and we can help others find that within them.

"Expensive." I think that word unequivocally defines the college education system in the United States of America. As a country that is considered a land of opportunity, corruption and capitalism have created rising costs in many industries including academics which quite honestly should not even be considered an industry. Even health care is extremely expensive despite it being a necessity, especially in these uncertain and pandemic-filled times. It is my dream to be a primary care physician who provides affordable and accessible care. The path of becoming a physician is not only long but expensive. I will be attending USF Health Morsani College of Medicine this July where the yearly tuition is 50,000 dollars. That is how much the average American makes in a year. Our education system is at a place where tuition equates to someone's yearly salary. Many physicians are already burdened with exorbitant loans while trying to provide the best healthcare. One of the biggest reasons why healthcare is expensive starts with the fact that getting a medical degree is unbelievably expensive. As a future physician, I want to focus on my patients' health and not loans. I want to make it possible to provide affordable and accessible care. Despite the potential loans I will have, I will do my very best to provide low-cost care and create free clinics in under-resourced areas. This scholarship would help me get closer to my dream of creating a more equitable world where people get affordable, personalized health care.

"Pooping is the best and most joyous feeling ever." This quote sounds pretty vulgar, but there is a short story behind it. My grandfather told me a tale about a king named Akbar. Akbar asked his people, "what is the thing that gives the most joy?" As he went across the room, he heard answers such as "money", "women", and "power", but the one answer that truly threw him off was the quote I mentioned in the beginning. Hearing this absurdity, Akbar yelled at Birbal who was the one who suggested it. However, Akbar would soon learn how true Birbal's statement was. One day, King Akbar sensed the urgency within his bowels and ran to the toilet. However, Birbal, seeing this as his chance to make Akbar aware of the wonders of discharging feces, entered the toilet and locked the door. Akbar waited in agony, and finally Birbal, after what seemed like an eternity, opened the door. Akbar ran inside and felt the joy of his bowels emptying. He walked out and faced Birbal and agreed that pooping did bring the most joy. Of course, my grandfather told me this tale as he struggled to find a restroom to relieve himself, so when he walked out of the restroom, he felt the same joy. How could such an absurd quote and story mean so much to me? Well, first of all, because my favorite grandparent told it to me, and it always makes me laugh. Most importantly though, it has a very important life lesson within it. It is not good to keep feces in your body; it hurts, and it's toxic. The same can be said about the other painful things in life. Things like regret, insecurity, guilt, and jealousy. They can take an incredibly drastic toll on your mental and physical health. But the minute you let go of these things, you feel pure joy. The burdens of these emotions are lifted, and your perspectives are not muddled by these toxic entities. Letting go and clearing yourself of all these emotional and physical toxicities can make life much easier and can help us realize how important the little things are. Money and power may seem like the best things in the world. But, at the end of the day, internal peace can give someone the most joy. Whether that internal peace comes from the calming of your bowels or clearing your mind, it really does not matter. Hopefully, I'll find complete internal peace soon, as I do get closer every morning.

I was strumming around on my ukulele and started saying a couple of lines. The emotions I felt motivated the specific words to come out. At the time, my mental health was all over the place. As I started singing these lyrics about the meadows, I realized how alone I sometimes feel in the most beautiful of places. I wrote this song to share the delirium that one feels while battling mental illness. It feels like you're holding onto the edge and hoping that someone will save you. Thankfully someone did save me, and I hope everyone is pulled to safety as I was.

I have the worst stage fright, and I never perform alone. However, there was a time I made a bold move and changed that. My uncle wanted me to sing a song in front of a hundred guests at his 50th birthday party. It would be my first time singing alone in front of such a big crowd. As my heart raced, I walked to the front of the hall and gripped the mic. After the performance, two girls came up to me excitedly to say, "that was amazing!" My heart raced again, but it felt good this time.

"I''m asexual!" My proud declaration only leads to quiet stares as people try to comprehend my sexuality. The awkward silence prompts me to say, "Yes, I reproduce by making copies of myself." In reality, I guess I end up pushing the conversation away from the real conversation out of the fear that people will be skeptical of my sexuality. I first realized I was asexual during college when I heard the term during a random conversation. I never really understood the things that my friends were experiencing as adolescents. Their romantic pursuits and infatuations seemed relatable only to a certain extent, and most of the time I wanted to change the conversation. When I first came out as asexual, that awkwardness that I described was what I dealt with in the first year. Comedy is my way of dealing with the challenges in my life, and in a way, this joke/meme helped make the conversation about my asexual identity more approachable. After a quick laugh, my friends started asking me questions about what it meant to be asexual. It was comforting to know that my friends and loved ones wanted to understand me and my sexuality.

I remember hearing the phrase "Do you want to be dead when you are alive or alive when you are dead?" While it doesn't seem clear at first, the question is asking whether you want to be immortalized after passing or you want to be forgotten while alive. This simple question really sums up the idea of 'legacy' for me. It's what you leave behind and how you are remembered by the people who are still on this Earth. As humans, we enthusiastically and lovingly remember groundbreaking leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. because of how much they impacted human rights and responsibilities. Although an assassination took away MLK Jr. from the people, his ideologies and lessons stuck with them. His legacy was what pushed people to continue their activism. Today, his legacy is what pushed people to start the Black Lives Matter Movement. His legacy pushed people to be better and fight for what is right. In the world, we live in today, the future generation needs people like MLK Jr whose legacies motivate people to make the world safer, more equal, and righteous for all the beings that exist. That's the kind of legacy I want to leave behind; one that encourages and inspires people to be better and do much more.

At the age of 17, I was in a serious car accident, and our car was totaled. I was lucky to walk away with whiplash and a black eye as a “battle scar”. However, more than the physical injuries, the accident was the breaking point for mental suffering that I had long repressed. I attributed my decline to what I thought was a possible concussion from the accident. I was not ready to accept that my mental health was deteriorating, so I made my dad schedule an appointment with my pediatrician, Dr. Ezeokoli. Just minutes into my appointment, the doctor’s questions shifted from physical health to my feelings and emotions — and a 15 minute consultation turned into an hour-long therapy session. Her medical expertise deemed me to be perfectly fit physically; however, her compassion and empathy unearthed a 17 year-old girl struggling to face her thoughts. I wiped my tears as she told me, “Aishwarya, we are all here for you. It’s okay to give yourself a chance to be human and face these emotions.” My pediatrician made me aware of the support I needed for myself and laid down the stepping stones to me becoming anchored, both in mind and body. Personally experiencing how a pediatrician is the first point of contact for children and adolescents going through major struggles, inspired me to become a pediatrician myself one day. These early experiences shaped my desire to become a doctor who caters to both their physical and mental health needs. My pediatrician was attentive and encouraged me to speak up, but many are not as fortunate. “I don’t know how to tell anyone,” is a sentiment I often hear as a Crisis Text Line (CTL) counselor when individuals share their experiences with abuse, depression, and suicidal thoughts. CTL is a last resort for many, especially those contemplating suicide while suffering from difficult external and internal circumstances. The hardest conversation I had was when it was almost too late. The pills were in their body, and no one except me knew about the battle in their head; a part of them wanted to survive which is why they texted in. My fingers urgently typed, “You deserve support and safety. An ambulance can be sent to you if you provide your information.” The gaps between their messages grew longer as the gaps between my breaths grew shorter. As they sent in their address, the ambulance sirens echoed in my head; they accepted the support they were looking for. Society’s stigma towards mental health makes it difficult for people to speak up sooner. Since doctors are the first point of contact for many, I hope to change this narrative during medical visits, when noticing symptoms like dramatic weight loss, tone change, rapid breathing, and, in response, make checkups safe spaces for patients to voice concerns. I want to develop a healthy rapport with my patients by consistently checking up on them to understand how factors like culture and relationships affect their health. What I learned from these situations was the value of being observant of people’s lifestyles and of developing necessary adaptations that align with their specific needs. It was this kind of troubleshooting and empathetic listening that strengthened my passion for becoming a doctor who educates, advocates, and heals. I aspire to address gaps in healthcare, especially regarding mental health, disabilities, and socioeconomic backgrounds, by developing clinical practices that holistically enhance the human condition. By taking this approach, I hope that my future patients can conquer both their mental and physical challenges so that we can create a more balanced dialogue about health within our communities.

“Akka, I need a rupee.” I was walking out of a theater in India when an emaciated child in torn garments approached me for money. As a 9-year-old, I was shocked to see an individual my age living in such dire circumstances. Heavy-heartedly, I dropped coins into his hand; although seemingly generous, giving money is like applying a band-aid on an injury that requires stitches, providing only fleeting relief instead of a proper solution. A possible solution dawned upon me while I was working on a project about Mother Teresa; I realized poverty was alleviated by two fundamental tools: accessible health care and emotional support that addresses social elements of adversity. This realization sparked my dream of becoming a doctor who not only treats symptoms but also educates, rehabilitates, and guides people towards building healthy lifestyles. I experienced first-hand the impact a doctor can have on one’s development when my pediatrician, Dr. Ezeokoli, helped me face the repercussions of surviving a car accident. The near-death experience had unearthed repressed emotions, turning a 15-minute physical exam into an hour-long therapy session. Dr. Ezeokoli’s medical report described a physically fit patient; however, her patient-centered approach revealed a 17-year-old girl who was struggling to face her thoughts. As I wiped my tears, she reassured me: “Aishwarya, we are here for you.” She helped me grasp the importance of acknowledging my emotions and taking the necessary steps to heal both my mind and body. Her approach inspired my pursuit of a medical path mindful of patients’ physical and emotional needs to support them through challenges like mental health and disabilities. My pediatrician was attentive and encouraged me to speak up, but many are not as fortunate. “I don’t know how to tell anyone,” is a sentiment I often hear as a Crisis Text Line (CTL) counselor when individuals share their experiences with abuse, depression, and suicidal thoughts. CTL is a last resort for many, especially those contemplating suicide while suffering from difficult external and internal circumstances. The hardest conversation I had was when it was almost too late. The pills were in their body, and no one except me knew about the battle in their head; a part of them wanted to survive which is why they texted in. My fingers urgently typed, “You deserve support and safety. An ambulance can be sent to you if you provide your information.” The gaps between their messages grew longer as the gaps between my breaths grew shorter. As they sent in their address, the ambulance sirens echoed in my head; they accepted the support they were looking for. Society’s stigma towards mental health makes it difficult for people to speak up sooner. Since doctors are the first point of contact for many, I hope to change this narrative during medical visits, when noticing symptoms like dramatic weight loss, tone change, rapid breathing, and, in response, make checkups safe spaces for patients to voice concerns. I want to develop a healthy rapport with my patients by consistently checking up on them to understand how factors like culture and relationships affect their health. What I learned from these situations was the value of being observant of people’s lifestyles and of developing necessary adaptations that align with their specific needs. It was this kind of troubleshooting and empathetic listening that strengthened my passion for becoming a doctor who educates, advocates, and heals. I aspire to address gaps in healthcare, especially regarding mental health, disabilities, and socioeconomic backgrounds, by developing clinical practices that holistically enhance the human condition. By taking this approach, I hope that my future patients can conquer both their mental and physical challenges so that we can create a more balanced dialogue about health within our communities.

“Akka, I need a rupee.” I was walking out of a theater in India when an emaciated child in torn garments approached me for money. As a 9-year-old, I was shocked to see an individual my age living in such dire circumstances. Heavy-heartedly, I dropped coins into his hand; although seemingly generous, giving money is like applying a band-aid on an injury that requires stitches, providing only fleeting relief instead of a proper solution. I then went on to realize that poverty was alleviated by two fundamental tools: accessible health care and emotional support that addresses social elements of adversity. This realization sparked my dream of becoming a doctor who not only treats symptoms but also educates and rehabilitates. I experienced first-hand the impact a doctor can have on one’s development when my pediatrician, Dr. Ezeokoli, helped me face the repercussions of surviving a car accident. The near-death experience had unearthed repressed emotions, turning a 15-minute physical exam into an hour-long therapy session. Dr. Ezeokoli’s medical report described a physically fit patient; however, her patient-centered approach revealed a 17-year-old girl who was struggling to face her thoughts. As I wiped my tears, she reassured me: “Aishwarya, we are here for you.” Her approach inspired my pursuit of a medical path mindful of patients’ physical and emotional needs to support them through challenges like mental health and disabilities. My pediatrician was attentive and encouraged me to speak up, but many are not as fortunate. “I don’t know how to tell anyone,” is a sentiment I often hear as a Crisis Text Line (CTL) counselor when individuals share their experiences with abuse, depression, and suicidal thoughts. CTL is a last resort for many, especially those contemplating suicide while suffering from difficult external and internal circumstances. The hardest conversation I had was when it was almost too late. The pills were in their body, and no one except me knew about the battle in their head; a part of them wanted to survive which is why they texted in. My fingers urgently typed, “You deserve support and safety. An ambulance can be sent to you if you provide your information.” The gaps between their messages grew longer as the gaps between my breaths grew shorter. As they sent in their address, the ambulance sirens echoed in my head; they accepted the support they were looking for. Society’s stigma towards mental health makes it difficult for people to speak up sooner. Since doctors are the first point of contact for many, I hope to change this narrative during medical visits, when noticing symptoms like dramatic weight loss, tone change, rapid breathing, and, in response, make checkups safe spaces for patients to voice concerns. What I learned from these situations was the value of being observant of people’s lifestyles and of developing necessary adaptations that align with their specific needs. I aspire to address gaps in healthcare, especially regarding mental health, disabilities, and socioeconomic backgrounds, by developing clinical practices that holistically enhance the human condition.

“Akka, I need a rupee.” I was walking out of a theater in India when an emaciated child in torn garments approached me for money. As a 9-year-old, I was shocked to see an individual my age living in such dire circumstances. Heavy-heartedly, I dropped coins into his hand; although seemingly generous, giving money is like applying a band-aid on an injury that requires stitches, providing only fleeting relief instead of a proper solution. A possible solution dawned upon me while I was working on a project about Mother Teresa; I realized poverty was alleviated by two fundamental tools: accessible health care and emotional support that addresses social elements of adversity. This realization sparked my dream of becoming a doctor who not only treats symptoms but also educates, rehabilitates, and guides people towards building healthy lifestyles. I experienced first-hand the impact a doctor can have on one’s development when my pediatrician, Dr. Ezeokoli, helped me face the repercussions of surviving a car accident. The near-death experience had unearthed repressed emotions, turning a 15-minute physical exam into an hour-long therapy session. Dr. Ezeokoli’s medical report described a physically fit patient; however, her patient-centered approach revealed a 17-year-old girl who was struggling to face her thoughts. As I wiped my tears, she reassured me: “Aishwarya, we are here for you.” She helped me grasp the importance of acknowledging my emotions and taking the necessary steps to heal both my mind and body. Her approach inspired my pursuit of a medical path mindful of patients’ physical and emotional needs to support them through challenges like mental health and disabilities. My pediatrician was attentive and encouraged me to speak up, but many are not as fortunate. “I don’t know how to tell anyone,” is a sentiment I often hear as a Crisis Text Line (CTL) counselor when individuals share their experiences with abuse, depression, and suicidal thoughts. CTL is a last resort for many, especially those contemplating suicide while suffering from difficult external and internal circumstances. The hardest conversation I had was when it was almost too late. The pills were in their body, and no one except me knew about the battle in their head; a part of them wanted to survive which is why they texted in. My fingers urgently typed, “You deserve support and safety. An ambulance can be sent to you if you provide your information.” The gaps between their messages grew longer as the gaps between my breaths grew shorter. As they sent in their address, the ambulance sirens echoed in my head; they accepted the support they were looking for. Society’s stigma towards mental health makes it difficult for people to speak up sooner. Since doctors are the first point of contact for many, I hope to change this narrative during medical visits, when noticing symptoms like dramatic weight loss, tone change, rapid breathing, and, in response, make checkups safe spaces for patients to voice concerns. I want to develop a healthy rapport with my patients by consistently checking up on them to understand how factors like culture and relationships affect their health. Well-being involves not only the mind, but also the body; in my experience, I have found that individuals with disabilities are often neglected in this regard. On CTL, it is common to hear things like “My mom thinks I can’t have real people problems and needs because I’m autistic.” I noticed how misaligned this belief is as a UCSD Strive coach working with adults with disabilities. During one session, I was working with “Joe”, who used a wheelchair. Realizing that the basketball activity scheduled that day might pose some challenges, I took it upon myself to find a solution. I found a make-shift hockey stick and announced, “Let's play hockey!” Eyeing the goal, Joe grabbed the stick and took his shot as he stayed in place; his face lit up as his peers cheered for him. The adjustment gave him the chance to exercise while not feeling excluded from his peers. I recognized the importance and need for inclusivity for people with disabilities. As a future physician, I aspire to advocate to restructure elements in healthcare to better adapt to both the social and physical needs of people with disabilities. To understand what improvements are vital, I hope to establish peer health groups for this population to hear their perspectives in inclusive environments. What I learned from these situations was the value of being observant of people’s lifestyles and of developing necessary adaptations that align with their specific needs. It was this kind of troubleshooting and empathetic listening that strengthened my passion for becoming a doctor who educates, advocates, and heals. I aspire to address gaps in healthcare, especially regarding mental health, disabilities, and socioeconomic backgrounds, by developing clinical practices that holistically enhance the human condition. By taking this approach, I hope that my future patients can conquer both their mental and physical challenges so that we can create a more balanced dialogue about health within our communities.

“Akka, I need a rupee...I haven’t eaten anything all day.” I was walking out of a theater in India when an emaciated child in torn garments approached me for money. As a 9-year-old, I was shocked to see an individual my age living in such dire circumstances. My eyes filled with tears as I dropped the coins into the child’s hand. Although seemingly generous, the act of giving money is like applying a band aid on an injury that requires stitches, providing only fleeting relief instead of a proper solution. Later on, while working on a 5th grade biography project on Mother Teresa, I noticed a common theme about individual cases of poverty being eradicated by two fundamental tools: proper health care and emotional support. This realization sparked my dream to become a doctor who not only treats symptoms but also educates, rehabilitates, and supports individuals with building healthy futures. I have seen the first hand effects of a doctor on a child’s development when my own pediatrician, Dr. Ezeokoli, helped me face the repercussions of surviving a car accident. The near-death experience had unearthed repressed emotions, leading a 15 minute physical to develop into an hour-long therapy session. Dr. Ezeokoli’s medical report described a physically fit patient; however, her compassion revealed a 17 year-old girl struggling to face her thoughts. As I wiped my tears, she reassured me: “Aishwarya, we are all here for you. Give yourself a chance to face these emotions.” My pediatrician recognized the support I needed to anchor both my mind and body. She changed my life and further inspired me to want to pursue a medical path which caters to patients’ physical and mental health needs.