I often see my father with his head in his hands induced by a quiet spell haunted by the pain of his mother whom he repeatedly says is slipping away because of her dementia. "She's slowly disappearing," he says. I didn't know my grandmother until I was about 15 years old. She had just lost her husband of 60 years to a severe case of diabetes. She was alone and needed comfort from the nearest family she had, so she came to live with us. When I was young I thought it was irritating how she would consistently and only repeat the same three stories about my dad and how he loved examining her car when he was five years old, the story of how she wrote a letter to Barack Obama, and how she loved making paper flowers for her coworkers when she was younger. My dad said she used to be the sharpest, strongest woman he knew, and she was never like how she is now. All I saw was the repetition. Over time, I began to understand. Through her stories, though repeated, she held her family, her freedom, voice, and creativity close to her heart. It was heartbreaking to see my dad lose a part of his mother, but I was fascinated by the inner workings of the brain. My grandmother kept her identity through three random life stories yet couldn't remember my name or where I lived. During COVID-19, I was fortunate to receive a position at a lab where I was able to learn about the use of stem cell therapies to better understand Alzheimer's disease and dementia. My specific project was to understand the effect of paraquat, a toxic chemical and pesticide, on the brain and how it is commonly associated with triggering early-onset Alzheimer's and dementia. This research kickstarted my interest in the fascinating subject. When 60 Minutes released an episode about a large population of central South Americans who were contracting the disease in their early 30s, I dove deeper into the research. From a research perspective, it was exciting to see the parallels between the pesticide paraquat and South American farmers contracting Alzheimer's. Moreover, it was fascinating how the brain can change so drastically in such a short period, but also to never know what specifically triggers the onset of these neurodegenerative diseases in specific cases. There is also no standing cure. As I sat in on a Front Row talk at Scripps Institute this past summer, I listened to Jeffery Kelly give a presentation on how the alteration of gene formation can increase the risk of neurodegenerative diseases and how genetic editing and bioconstruction of new genes can serve as a prolonged preventative treatment for those who are "at risk." The presentation opened the door for new questions and curiosities for me. Who is "at risk" if only a handful of reasons for Alzheimer's onset are known? Is anyone sampling large groups of people and their genetic formation to assess the likelihood of getting dementia or Alzheimer's from youth to present to track societal, genetic, and environmental factors en masse? It's scary to imagine that one day I could be like my grandmother, and in less than a year, everything I ever knew was taken away from me. As I pursue my bachelor's degree and dream of obtaining an MD/PhD with a background in Biomedical Engineering and Global Health, I keep my interest in understanding and working with neurodegenerative diseases close at heart because one day I will contribute to this worldwide challenge of finding a cure. One day, It will happen, and I want to be there when it does.

The memory of waking up next to the dwelling of a native Gabonese family haunts me. From the 4th floor of my air-conditioned apartment in a Brazilian wood-floored bedroom, I see seven orphaned children living with a single water pump, a sheet of aluminum for roofing, cement blocks piled on a bed of 4-foot-tall weeds to create walls, and malaria-transmitting mosquitoes covering the walls' surfaces. The very institution that brought me to this beautiful, central African home was the same one that caused this family to suffer the loss of basic human dignity. In a place where dengue fever, yellow fever, cholera, worms, and malaria are as prevalent as a cold, they had no access to healthcare, and it feels criminal to let that go. I want to embrace the power of commitment to service and civic engagement, learn the best ways to impact change through these values and apply it to the world that I saw in Africa. I feel that it is my duty not to observe these situations but to play an active role in the amelioration of lives that have no power over the institution that I was a part of. Libreville, Gabon was my home for almost five years; it is time I start giving back. Service is not just a rent I pay to live; it is a lifestyle that I chose to fulfill. I do not want to dwell in what could be but rather be a part of the people, change-makers, for what this world will be. My experiences in Gabon have motivated me to pursue my passions. From begging my parents to buy me a copy of an advanced Biology journal from the South African airport when I was 9, to the endless nights of Biology homework that I spent hours on- enthralled by each natural system that is at work every split second- it had become clear to me that this interest in science and medicine would extend beyond my brief exposure in classrooms. Throughout high school, I have held internships, assisted doctors and written my own paper. While all these experiences have led to my current assurance in wanting to pursue studies in the field of medicine, my work at Scintillon Institute was one of the most impactful endeavours for me. I was able to witness the life and true passion of a Principal Investigator and the inspiring way they get lost in understanding some of the most complex scientific systems. I was thrown into a world where I hadn't the faintest idea of what “Mitochondrial TpNOX'' was, but through hours and days of fervently reading and challenging myself to understand the research, I came out of the experience discovering not only the science of the research but my unwavering motivation. Because of my persistence, I was invited to join the lab for a second year and continued research on the effects of Paraquat in the brain and how it can lead to Parkinson’s Disease and Dementia. Going back to school after those summers, I had a newfound confidence in learning difficult material. I wasn’t scared of asking questions, making mistakes, diving deeper and building connections to the work at the lab. Perhaps by the time I finish school, a lot of questions will already be answered, but because of my experiences, I know that there is so much more to understand and that I want to be on the front lines in this thrilling field of discovery to make the world a better place one molecule at a time.