As an only child, extended family members have always been very important to me. I cherish my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins even more than most because I do not have siblings to play with or be tormented by on a daily basis. I have lived across the country from my extended family my whole life. This has made visits with them extremely special and has led to some of my fondest memories. The residual impacts of Alzheimer’s and dementia, however, have diluted some of those memories. When I was very young, my maternal step-grandfather, Grandpea (I called him this because my mother called him Sweetpea), developed Alzheimer’s. In these younger years, I did not fully comprehend the gravity of this disease. I do not remember much of my time with Grandpea, as Alzheimer’s took his life when I was three years old. I do remember him, however, to have been very gentle and fun to play with, but also quick to anger when he got frustrated. His confusion was met with my innocent acceptance and situations were de-escalated by the adults around us. It was not until years later that I learned the extent of his disease. A career trucker, he was always a very careful driver and prided himself on how well he could pack up a vehicle to travel from Ohio to visit us in Colorado. He could always get the best gas mileage. As the disease progressed, my grandparents visited less frequently. My parents would always drive when they did visit, or we just traveled to visit them in Ohio instead. I learned that my parents and grandmother would find excuses to keep him from driving because he was losing his ability to remember where he was going. He would forget the rules of the road and blame other drivers for his mistakes. I heard stories of his rapid decline with this disease and how he would be prone to bouts of anger and frustration when he had previously been the kindest of souls. He even once attacked his own son because he did not recognize him and believed him to be an intruder trying to harm my grandmother. After that incident, Grandpea had to be moved to a long-term care facility. It was there that he died when the disease took away his ability to swallow and breathe. Fast-forward to the last three years. My family faced a new battle with this disease. This time it was with my paternal grandfather. My father’s father was a decorated Naval officer and very active as a Deacon in the Catholic Church. I have known him to be the most intelligent person I have ever met. A lifelong learner and a very deep and critical thinker, Grandpa would challenge me with questions and theory and make me really think when I was around him. He was never as playful as my other grandfather, but he had always been very supportive of my educational dreams. He encouraged me to develop a strong work ethic. However, in the past three years, Grandpa had begun to suffer from age-related dementia. I recorded one of my last visits with him so that I could remember as much of the “old him” as possible before the disease ultimately progressed. Watching him lose his memories or fruitlessly struggle to recall them was like watching the disintegration of a cherished book. Pages fading, sentences blurring, characters vanishing. Conversations were disjointed, looping back to topics already covered. It was as if his mind was trapped in a labyrinth. I know he could feel that entrapment and he got frustrated knowing he should have remembered these simple things. I felt a mix of compassion and impatience. I had compassion for his suffering and, at the same time, had to fend off impatience when he could not follow simple instructions or when he had incontinence. The guilt of feeling this way gnawed at me. How could I feel this frustration with someone who I always admired for their strength? Amid the chaos, I discovered the strengths, resilience, and adaptability within me. I learned to meet my grandfather where he was, embracing what was his reality rather than imposing my own. We laughed over the same repeated stories, and I learned to redirect conversations when they wandered into confusing territory. I find solace in shared smiles or in his fleeting lucid thoughts. Unfortunately, the disease caused my grandfather to fall and critically injure himself and he died last May. Alzheimer’s and dementia have taught me empathy. I know my grandfathers were not intentionally forgetful; their minds were betraying them. I could feel Grandpa’s pain as he faced his new reality. I learned to listen without judgment and to reassure my grandfather when he felt lost. Compassion became my armor against frustration. While I mourn the loss of my grandfathers’ personalities, wisdom, and laughter, I also celebrate their resilience and how they found joy in simpler things. My grandfathers left me with a legacy - a testament to resilience, love, and the fragility of memory. Their struggles have taught me that compassion is a superpower, patience is a virtue, and presence is a gift. No matter the moment, there is always room for grace and connection. In the Fall, I will be entering my junior year at Duke University to study Biomedical and Mechanical Engineering with an emphasis in Neurosciences. I want to make a difference in people’s lives by using the power of medicine, the mind, and mechanics to build back what people have lost. This may be in the form of a limb that is replaced by a myoelectric prosthetic or lost brain function re-enabled through neural prostheses. I was drawn to Duke because of the Grill Lab and my ability to do research there as early as my freshman year. Dr. Warren Grill runs a lab at Duke which employs engineering approaches to understand and control neural function. Here they work on applied development in electrical stimulation of the nervous system to restore function to individuals with neurological impairments or injury. If these devices can be used to restore bladder function or motor skills, then they can also be used to help the cognitive mind. I intend to explore the use of memory prosthetics to help individuals with Alzheimer’s disease retain memories and stimulate the production of new ones. They can be used to enhance focus, attention, and decision-making abilities in individuals with cognitive impairments. Even slowing the progression of these diseases is a step in the right direction. My intended research will help spread awareness of Alzheimer’s and age-related dementia. It will provide a beacon of hope as we face the increased onset of these diseases because the general population is living longer. This summer I have been hired by Stryker for a research and development internship with their spinal and neurosciences division. Alzheimer’s and dementia have impacted my life in many ways, but none more profound than setting my career goals to find ways to help those with cognitive impairments. While I have learned to find beauty in the broken and embrace imperfection, I am now driven to find ways to restore that which has been lost. I aspire to find a way to break the shackles that imprison Alzheimer’s patients within their own minds. I want to help the grandfathers of other young girls recognize and remember their granddaughters all the way to their dying day’s end.

In the bustling New Tech City, where skyscrapers kissed the clouds and autonomous vehicles filled the streets, technology had become the life-blood of society. Among many advancements, myoelectric prosthetics was the beacon of hope for those who had lost their limbs. These advanced prosthetics, controlled by the user’s brain, promised a future where limb loss no longer meant a loss of independence. Camilla Brewer, a young engineer with a passion for robotics, had dedicated her life to perfecting these prosthetics. Her journey began when her high school teammate, Ella, lost her arm in a car accident. Ella’s love of volleyball never waned. She learned to play the sport in a reconstructed way and made the Paralympic women’s team. Watching this elite athlete struggle with basic tasks and discomfort from traditional assistive devices sparked Camilla’s drive to create a prosthetic that restored functionality as well as a sense of normalcy. Camilla’s lab was a haven of innovation. Shelves lined with prototypes, 3-D printers humming in the background, and walls adorned with blueprints of intricate designs. Her latest project, the “Phoenix Arm,” was her most ambitious yet. Named after the mythical bird of rebirth, the arm was lightweight, durable, and capable of providing sensory feedback to the user. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Camilla stared at the Phoenix Arm prototype, recognizing the difficulties awaiting her. Signal acquisition and processing were the first hurdles. The human body generates a myriad of electrical signals, and isolating the specific ones needed to control the device was no easy feat. Noise and interference from other muscle activities often led to imprecise movements. “Cam, you need to take a break,” said Dr. Simmons, her mentor and renowned expert in biomechanics. She had been a guiding light in Camilla’s journey, always pushing her to think beyond the conventional. “I know, Dr. Simmons, but we’re so close. If we can just refine the signal processing algorithm, the Phoenix Arm will be a game-changer,” Camilla replied, her eyes a mix of determination and exhaustion. Dr. Simmons nodded, understanding her drive. “Remember, innovation takes time. We’ll get there.” The next day, Camilla tested the arm with Ella, her most supportive and patient test subject. As Ella strapped on the Phoenix Arm, Camilla watched anxiously. “Alright, Ella, try to move your fingers,” she instructed. Ella focused, and slowly, the fingers of the device began to move. It was not perfect, yet it was progress. However, as she tried to perform more complex tasks, the movements became erratic. “Damn!, signal interference again,” Camilla muttered, frustration creeping into her voice. Ella placed her remaining hand on Camilla’s shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, girl. You’ve come so far already.” Camilla smiled, grateful for her unwavering support. She knew that integrating the prosthetic with the human body posed significant biomedical and physiological challenges. The device had to fit comfortably and move naturally with the user’s body. Achieving this level of integration required advanced materials and design techniques that mimic human anatomy. Days turned into weeks, and Camilla continued to refine the Phoenix Arm. She experimented with innovative materials like smart textiles and biocompatible polymers, which provided better comfort, flexibility, and durability. She also collaborated with experts in artificial intelligence to develop algorithms that more accurately interpreted muscle signals without interference. One of the most exciting breakthroughs came when Camilla integrated sensors into the Arm that could detect pressure, temperature, and other tactile sensations. This enhanced sensory feedback provided a more natural and intuitive experience, allowing users to perform tasks with greater precision and confidence. As the Phoenix Arm neared completion, Camilla faced another challenge: making it accessible to those who needed it most. The production of myoelectric prosthetics involved very expensive, sophisticated technology and materials. High costs would limit accessibility. Determined to overcome this barrier, Camilla partnered with non-profit organizations; one dedicated to pollution control and one to providing affordable prosthetics to underserved communities. Together, they worked to develop a material from recycled ocean plastics that would reduce the cost of the Phoenix Arm through mass production and economies of scale. They also launched initiatives to provide financial assistance and insurance coverage for the devices. The day finally arrived when the Phoenix Arm was ready for its official launch. The event was held at the New Tech Convention Center, attended by scientists, engineers, healthcare professionals, and hopeful amputees. Camilla stood on the stage, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Ladies and gentlemen, today we unveil the Phoenix Arm, a symbol of resilience and innovation,” Camilla began. “This prosthetic is a testament to the human spirit’s ability to overcome adversity. It represents our commitment to improving the quality of life for individuals with limb loss.” As she spoke, Ella walked onto the stage, wearing the Phoenix Arm. She demonstrated its capabilities, performing tasks with ease and precision. The audience watched in awe as Ella wielded the device as if it were her natural arm, their faces reflecting a mix of admiration and hope. Camilla continued, “The journey to perfecting the Phoenix Arm was filled with challenges, from signal processing and integration to cost and accessibility. With each challenge came an opportunity to innovate and push the boundaries of possibility. Today, we stand on the brink of a new era in myoelectric prosthetics, where technology and humanity converge to create a brighter future.” The thunderous applause echoed through the convention center. Camilla felt a rush of pride equal to the wave of cacophony enveloping her. Though she knew challenges lay ahead, she was ready. The Phoenix Arm was just the beginning, a step toward a future where robotics and myoelectric prosthetics transform lives. As the event concluded, Camilla watched Ella, surrounded by well-wishers and admirers. She realized the Phoenix Arm’s true success was not in its technology, but in the hope and possibilities it offered to those who needed it most. At that moment, she knew her journey was just beginning, filled with endless opportunities to make a difference.

As an only child, extended family members have always been very important to me. I cherish my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins even more than most because I do not have siblings to play with – or be tormented by on a daily basis. I have lived across the country from my extended family my whole life. This has made visits with them extremely special and has led to some of my fondest memories. The residual impacts of Alzheimer’s and dementia, however, have diluted some of those memories. When I was very young, my maternal step-grandfather, Grandpea (I called him this because my mother called him Sweetpea), developed Alzheimer’s. In these younger years, I did not fully comprehend the gravity of this disease. I do not remember much of my time with Grandpea, as Alzheimer’s took his life when I was three years old. I do remember him, however, to have been very gentle and fun to play with, but also quick to anger when he got frustrated. His confusion was met with my innocent acceptance and situations were de-escalated by the adults around us. It was not until years later that I learned the extent of his disease. A career trucker, he was always a very careful driver and prided himself on how well he could pack up a vehicle to travel from Ohio to visit us in Colorado. He could always get the best gas mileage. As the disease progressed, my grandparents visited less frequently. My parents would always drive when they did visit or we just traveled to visit them in Ohio instead. I learned that my parents and grandmother would find excuses to keep him from driving because he was losing his ability to remember where he was going. He would forget the rules of the road and blame other drivers for his mistakes. I heard stories of his rapid decline with this disease and how he would be prone to bouts of anger and frustration when he had previously been the kindest of souls. He even once attacked his own son because he did not recognize him and believed him to be an intruder trying to harm my grandmother. After that incident, Grandpea had to be moved to a long term care facility. It was there that he died when the disease took away his ability to swallow and breathe. Fast-forward to the last two years. My family has been facing a new battle with this disease. This time it is with my paternal grandfather. My father’s father was a decorated Naval officer and very active as a Deacon in the Catholic Church. I have known him to be the most intelligent person I have ever met. A lifelong learner and a very deep and critical thinker, Grandpa would challenge me with questions and theory and make me really think when I was around him. He was never as playful as my other grandfather, but he had always been very supportive of my educational dreams. He encouraged me to develop a strong work ethic. However, in the past two years, Grandpa has begun to suffer from age-related dementia. I recorded my most recent visit with him so that I could remember as much of the “old him” as possible before the disease ultimately progresses. Watching him lose his memories or fruitlessly struggle to recall them is like watching the disintegration of a cherished book. Pages fading, sentences blurring, characters vanishing. Conversations are disjointed, looping back to topics already covered. It is as if his mind is trapped in a labyrinth. I know he can feel that entrapment and he gets frustrated knowing he should remember these simple things. I feel a mix of compassion and impatience. I have compassion for his suffering and, at the same time, must fend off impatience when he cannot follow simple instructions or when he has incontinence. The guilt of feeling this way gnaws at me. How can I feel this frustration with someone who I always admired for their strength? Amid the chaos, I am discovering the strengths, resilience, and adaptability within me. I am learning to meet my grandfather where he is, embracing his reality rather than imposing my own. We laugh over the same repeated stories, and I am learning to redirect conversations when they wander into confusing territory. I find solace in shared smiles or in his fleeting lucid thoughts. Alzheimer’s and dementia have taught me empathy. I know my grandfathers were not intentionally forgetful; their minds were betraying them. I can feel Grandpa’s pain as he faces his new reality. I am learning to listen without judgment and to reassure my grandfather when he feels lost. Compassion became my armor against frustration. While I mourn the loss of my grandfathers’ personalities, wisdom, and laughter, I also celebrate their resilience and how they found joy in simpler things. My grandfathers are leaving me with a legacy - a testament to resilience, love, and the fragility of memory. Their struggles have taught me that compassion is a superpower, patience is a virtue, and presence is a gift. No matter the moment, there is always room for grace and connection. In the Fall, I will be attending Duke University to study Biomedical Engineering and Neurosciences. I want to make a difference in people’s lives by using the power of medicine, the mind, and mechanics to build back what people have lost. This may be in the form of a limb that is replaced by a myoelectric prosthetic or lost brain function re-enabled through neural prostheses. I was drawn to Duke because of the Grill Lab and my ability to do research there as early as my Freshman year. Dr. Warren Grill runs a lab at Duke which employs engineering approaches to understand and control neural function. Here they work on applied development in electrical stimulation of the nervous system to restore function to individuals with neurological impairments or injury. If these devices can be used to restore bladder function or motor skills, then they can also be used to help the cognitive mind. I intend to explore the use of memory prosthetics to help individuals with Alzheimer’s disease retain memories and stimulate the production of new ones. They can be used to enhance focus, attention, and decision-making abilities in individuals with cognitive impairments. Even slowing the progression of these diseases is a step in the right direction. My intended research will help spread awareness of Alzheimer’s and age-related dementia. It will provide a beacon of hope as we face the increased onset of these diseases because the general population is living longer. Alzheimer’s and dementia have impacted my life in many ways, but none more profound than setting my career goals to find ways to help those with cognitive impairments. While I have learned to find beauty in the broken and embrace imperfection, I am now driven to find ways to restore that which has been lost. I aspire to find a way to break the shackles that imprison Alzheimer’s patients within their own minds. I want to help the grandfathers of other young girls recognize and remember their granddaughters all the way to their dying day’s end.

A foot sat on my kitchen counter for a month. The granite slab cooled the inner metal of the foot each night. The smell of rubber protruded off its porous skin. The old, paint-ridden towel wrapped around the limb made it appear lifeless. I began my work in assistive devices when my two dogs developed degenerative myelopathy, causing them to go lame. After watching my active dogs go from pouncing through snow piles to being unable to stand on their own, I was called to action. At age 10, an orthopedic veterinarian invited me to participate in a cat’s rear leg amputation. The surgery sparked a deep passion and I confidently declared I would invent prosthetics for animals. It was at one of my volleyball tournaments that my vision shifted. I saw the most inspirational game of volleyball I had ever witnessed: a Paralympic women's competition. In awe, I stood admiring these strong young women playing the sport they love in a reconstructed way. These fully-seated athletes, who were missing limbs, dominated the sport on an accessible court. I was electrified by their perseverance and courage to continue in the sport they loved. My focus shifted, and I was determined to be part of the solution for these athletes. As a student-athlete, president of my school’s Health Occupations Student Association (HOSA) and Women in Science and Engineering (WISE) clubs, and working volunteer medical internships, I devote my time to the biomedical field. I have always enjoyed math. Once I realized I was drawn to engineering, I redoubled my commitment to excel in advanced physics and mathematics courses. These classes were extremely helpful when designing prosthetics in my self-study programs. In my physics class, I learned about simple harmonic motion and torque factors that helped measure how prosthetics must be created to do everyday tasks while having the tensile strength to endure regular use. When creating my designs, I studied human body kinetics and how the force of the human body must have an equal force to that which the prosthetic was conducting to function properly. I embarked on courses in biology and double advanced math. As I designed these neuro-based devices that utilized residual nerve endings to control the robotic limb, I wanted to make them economical by manufacturing them from recycled ocean plastic. For my presentation at the conclusion of my self study course, I borrowed a prosthetic limb from one of my mentorship companies. That is the foot that sat on my kitchen counter for a month. Since then, I have attended Junior Medical School at a local hospital. This opportunity allowed me to experience medicine in a real-world environment. I shadowed hospital professionals and attempted hands-on care-taking skills. The program affirmed my passion for prosthetics design and bestowed a new perspective on teamwork. I am devoted to the future of medical innovations and the neurosciences that make them possible, and look forward to propelling my designs into reality. I will begin my undergraduate studies this Fall at Duke University. I will be studying Biomechanical Engineering. Receiving the William Griggs Scholarship will bring me closer to realizing my goal of making a difference for amputees. Just as physics and math influenced improvements in my prior designs, I intend to use these branches of science to advance current research in myoelectric devices and neuroprostheses and to create an economical prosthetic that will change lives. I am excited about the possibilities that lie ahead. Support from scholarships such as this one will allow me to achieve my dream of helping others by designing comfortable, affordable assistive devices.

A foot sat on my kitchen counter for a month. The granite slab cooled the inner metal of the foot each night. The smell of rubber protruded off its porous skin. The old, paint-ridden towel wrapped around the limb made it appear lifeless. I began my work in assistive devices when my two dogs developed degenerative myelopathy, causing them to go lame. After watching my active dogs go from pouncing through snow piles to not being able to stand on their own, I was called to action. I found my purpose at age ten. An orthopedic veterinarian invited me to participate in a cat’s rear leg amputation. The surgery sparked a passion deep inside and I confidently declared I would invent prosthetics for animals. As a student athlete, president of my school’s Health Occupations Student Association (HOSA) and Women in Science and Engineering (WISE) clubs, and working three volunteer medical internships, I demonstrate daily my passion for Biomedical Engineering. It was at one of my volleyball tournaments that my vision shifted. I saw the most inspirational game of volleyball I had ever witnessed: the Paralympic women's competition. In awe, I stood admiring these strong young women playing the sport they love in a reconstructed way. These fully-seated athletes, missing limbs, dominated the sport on an accessible court. I was electrified by their perseverance and courage to continue in the sport they loved, even if they could not play the game conventionally. As they finished their match and donned their prosthetics, I could not help but overhear their complaints about the limbs and their discomfort. My focus shifted, and I was determined to be part of the solution for these athletes. Soon after, I began to create designs for innovative prototype prosthetics. I attended medical courses, studying human body kinetics and how prosthetics assist amputees. I pursued a self-managed independent study. My study highlighted the scarcity of research for phantom limb pain patients. I interviewed amputees, dove into research for phantom pain, and concluded my study with a research paper, interview evaluations, and infographics. Later, I shared my findings with middle schoolers. My teaching plan placed 3rd at the HOSA State Leadership Conference and received national recognition. Next, I embarked on another project, Myoelectric Prosthetics. I designed neuro-based devices that could be made from recycled ocean plastic. These devices use the same residual nerves that cause phantom limb pain to control the prosthetic. For my presentation, I borrowed a prosthetic limb from one of my mentorship companies. That is the foot that sat on my kitchen counter for a month. Since then, I have attended Junior Medical School at a local hospital. This opportunity allowed me to experience medicine in a real-world environment. I shadowed hospital professionals and attempted hands-on care-taking skills. Developing connections with the Flight For Life Colorado team and dissecting a bison opened my eyes to the vastness of this world. The program affirmed my passion for prosthetics design and bestowed a new perspective on teamwork. I am devoted to the future of medical innovations and look forward to propelling my designs into realities. I will enroll this Fall at Duke University studying Biomedical Engineering and Neurosciences. By receiving the Julie Adams Memorial Scholarship, I will be closer to realizing my goal of creating a difference for amputees. Just as Julie continued to improve the futures of young women in STEM, I intend to advance current research in myoelectric devices to create an economical prosthetic that will change lives. I am excited for the possibilities that lie ahead for me and how the addition of this scholarship will allow me to achieve my dreams.

A foot sat on my kitchen counter for a month. The granite slab cooled the inner metal of the foot each night. The smell of rubber protruded off its porous skin. The old, paint-ridden towel wrapped around the limb made it appear lifeless. I began my work in assistive devices when my two dogs developed degenerative myelopathy, causing them to go lame. After watching my active dogs go from pouncing through snow piles to not being able to stand on their own, I was called to action. I found my purpose at age ten. An orthopedic veterinarian invited me to participate in a cat’s rear leg amputation. The surgery sparked a passion deep inside and I confidently declared I would invent prosthetics for animals. As a student-athlete, president of my school’s Health Occupations Student Association (HOSA) and Women in Science and Engineering (WISE) clubs, and working a volunteer internship, I devote my time to this endeavor. It was at one of my volleyball tournaments that my vision shifted. I saw the most inspirational game of volleyball I had ever witnessed: the Paralympic women's competition. In awe, I stood admiring these strong young women playing the sport they love in a reconstructed way. These fully-seated athletes, missing limbs, dominated the sport on an accessible court. I was electrified by their perseverance and courage to continue in the sport they loved, even if they could not play the game conventionally. As they finished their match and donned their prosthetics, I could not help but overhear their complaints about the limbs and their discomfort. My focus shifted, and I was determined to be part of the solution for these athletes. Soon after, I began to create designs for innovative prototype prosthetics. I attended medical courses, studying human body kinetics and how prosthetics assist amputees. I pursued a self-managed independent study. My study highlighted the scarcity of research on phantom limb pain patients. I interviewed amputees, dove into research for phantom pain, and concluded my study with a research paper, interview evaluations, and infographics. Later, I shared my findings with middle schoolers. My teaching plan placed 3rd at the HOSA State Leadership Conference and received national recognition. Next, I embarked on another project, Myoelectric Prosthetics. I designed neuro-based devices that could be made from recycled ocean plastic. These devices use the same residual nerves that cause phantom limb pain to control the prosthetic. For my presentation, I borrowed a prosthetic limb from one of my mentorship companies. That is the foot that sat on my kitchen counter for a month. Since then, I have attended Junior Medical School at a local hospital. This opportunity allowed me to experience medicine in a real-world environment. I shadowed hospital professionals and attempted hands-on care-taking skills. Developing connections with the Flight For Life Colorado team and dissecting a bison opened my eyes to the vastness of this world. The program affirmed my passion for prosthetics design and bestowed a new perspective on teamwork. I am devoted to the future of medical innovations and look forward to propelling my designs into reality. I will enroll this Fall at Duke University studying Biomechanical Engineering. By receiving the William A. Stuart Dream Scholarship, I will be closer to realizing my goal of creating a difference for amputees. Just as Bill continued to tinker and improve prior inventions, I intend to advance current research in myoelectric devices to design an economical prosthetic that will change lives. I am excited about the possibilities that lie ahead for me and how the addition of this scholarship will allow me to achieve my dreams.

A foot sat on my kitchen counter for a month. The granite slab cooled the inner metal of the foot each night. The smell of rubber protruded off its porous skin. The old, paint-ridden, tattered towel wrapped around the limb made it appear lifeless. I began my work in assistive devices when my two dogs suffered from degenerative myelopathy, causing them to go lame. After watching my snow-loving, active dogs go from pouncing in and out of snow piles to not being able to stand on their own, I was called to action. I found my purpose at age ten. An orthopedic veterinarian invited me to participate in a cat’s rear leg amputation. The surgery sparked a passion deep inside and I confidently declared I would make prosthetics for animals. As a student-athlete, president of my school’s Health Occupations Student Association (HOSA) and Women in Science and Engineering (WISE) clubs, and working a part-time job and volunteer internship, my days are quite full. It was at one of my volleyball tournaments that my vision shifted. I saw the most inspirational game of volleyball I had ever witnessed: the Paralympic women's competition. In awe, I stood admiring these strong and capable young women playing the sport they love in a reconstructed way. The fully seated athletes, who were missing limbs, dominated the sport on an accessible court. I was electrified by their perseverance and courage to continue in the sport they loved, even if they could not play the game conventionally. As they finished their match and donned their prosthetic devices, I could not help but overhear their complaints about the limbs and their discomfort with them. My focus shifted, and I was determined to be part of the solution for these athletes. Soon after, I began to create designs for innovative prototype prosthetics. I attended medical courses, studying the human body and how prosthetics could assist amputees. I pursued a self-managed independent study. The class was the most challenging, yet rewarding one I have ever taken. My study highlighted the scarcity of research for phantom limb pain patients. I interviewed amputees, dove into research for phantom pain, and concluded my study with a research paper, interview evaluations, and infographics. Later, I shared my findings with middle schoolers. My teaching plan for pre-teens placed 3rd at the HOSA State Leadership Conference and received national recognition. Next, I embarked on another project, Myoelectric Prosthetics. I designed neuro-based devices that could be made from recycled ocean plastic. These devices use the same residual nerves that cause phantom limb pain to control the prosthetic. I gained life skills of time management, collaboration, hands-on experience, and empathy as I learned the hardships that these amputees face. At the conclusion of the study, I shared my findings. For my presentation, I borrowed a prosthetic limb from one of my mentorship companies. That is the foot that sat on my kitchen counter for a month. Since that time, I have attended Junior Medical School at a local hospital. This opportunity allowed me to experience the medical field in a real-world environment. I shadowed hospital professionals and attempted hands-on care-taking skills. Developing connections with the Flight For Life Colorado team and dissecting a bison that week opened my eyes to the vastness of the medical world. This program affirmed my love for the prosthetic profession and bestowed a new perspective on teamwork. I am devoted to the future of health sciences and look forward to propelling medical innovations into blooming realities.

The cold wind swept over her still body causing the fine hairs on her limbs to rise as goosebumps formed. Her hair was matted with blood and debris surrounded her in smoldering piles. The night air was split abruptly by the wail of sirens in the distance. Clara's eyes fluttered closed. Incessant beeping woke Clara in a room with which she was unfamiliar. The heart monitor machine beeped rhythmically and slowly. Clara's parents greeted her and explained that she had been in an accident. She was extremely shaken and desperate for answers. On her way home from a date, a drunk driver swerved into her lane and forced her car off the road and down an embankment. Clara’s body ached from the pain of her ordeal. She lay still in the bed for hours until she finally felt the strength to get up, turn her body, and reach for the handrail of her bed. She went to grasp the cold stainless steel, yet she felt no sensation. Looking down she realized the most tragic event of her young adult life. Clara’s arm had been amputated after the accident. Learning how to live everyday life after the amputation was not an easy task for Clara. She struggled with daily activities such as cutting an apple or putting on her clothes. Clara was beyond frustrated with her new reality. She went to an orthopedic prosthetic company where she was fitted and sent home with a state-of-the-art, bionic limb. All seemed well as her prosthetic limb allowed her to function normally. The limb employed artificial intelligence and machine learning to integrate with her remaining nerve endings and allow her to control the device as if it were her real arm. On a warm summer morning many months later, Clara rolled out of bed to go to the lake with her friends. As she grabbed her paddleboard she realized that her prosthetic arm reached slightly before her brain had signaled it to. She found this odd, but soon brushed it off and continued with her day. Upon arriving at the lake, Clara got her board and paddled out to the middle of the lake. Her prosthetic limb suddenly grabbed this side of the board and flipped her over into the water. “Oof!”, she fell with a large splash. Now she was certain that something was wrong with her limb. It was acting on its own behalf. The limb seemed to move according to its plans as if it was seeking revenge against Clara. The rest of the day her prosthetic limb would shut doors in her face before she could walk through them and pick up items without her wanting to do so. She tried her best to give the limb commands and control its movements, but she failed over and over again. The limb had created a large learning model from its own learning and from data lakes off the internet. The limb had become too powerful and had taken over Clara’s life. The limb would make impulsive, impromptu motions and begin getting Clara into trouble. Clara took the prosthetic limb back to the prosthetist where she explained what was happening. The professional had never heard of such an occurrence from an object that up until now required human thought to provide its power. They convinced her that the arm could not function without her direction and that she was likely feeling the effects of phantom limb pain. Clara soon took to experiments for herself. She would place different objects around her and think about the one she wanted to grab. Yet when she opened her eyes the one in her prosthetic hand was not the one she summoned the arm to grasp. Clara soon took fright in the limb as she realized that she could no longer control it. She was afraid of what it would do. She begged and pleaded that the limb stop and listen to what she asked yet it continued to cause a ruckus. During her chemistry lab, her prosthetic limb grabbed a tube of chemicals and poured it all over the counter and her lab partner. Clara was suspended from school. Her relationship with the limb proceeded to get worse; she felt victimized by her arm. There was nothing that she could do to get it to stop. After three more weeks of constant misbehavior, Clara took her limb off and locked it in her closet. She went without the prosthetic for the rest of her high school years. She struggled at times but she knew that the outcomes that her prosthetic would cause were worse than the small molehills that she would face without it. It was on the day of her graduation that she was rummaging through her closet looking for a pair of heels to wear, when she came across the limb and ventured to put it on. It did not twitch or move and she figured that its misbehavior had worn off over the years. Perhaps it had lost the connection with its learning model. As she walked down the aisle to graduation she felt nervous and excited. She was excited for a new chapter of her life in college but still wished that she could be as able-bodied as the rest of her classmates. As she stepped into the aisle, she dropped her tassel. She bent down to pick it up. Her prosthetic limb jumped forward, grasped the throat of the classmate in front of her; and within an instant, snapped his neck. He crumbled lifeless at her feet. Her hair was matted and unkempt as she lay in the cold, sterile, padded cell. The fingers of her remaining hand rubbed the circulation back into her aching residual limb on the other side of her body. The bionic limb tossed in the corner of her cell was covered in dust, long forgotten. Clara lost in her insanity glanced in its direction just as the hand on the limb twitched alive…

Thirty minutes can save three lives. I have kept this fact in mind while volunteering at the last six blood drives at my school. As president of my school’s HOSA (Health Occupations Students of America) chapter, I have led the coordination of the bi-annual blood drives for three years. I enjoy the diversity of the volunteer activities involved, from finding volunteers to make posters and announcements advertising the event and registering student donors weeks in advance, to running the waiting room on the day of the event. All of these positions are vital for a successful drive. I most enjoy working the publicity table weeks before the event. The best part of volunteering is seeing how a community can work together, coming from so many different backgrounds, to benefit a common cause. This defines my view of service - a community uniting through leadership and sharing viewpoints to benefit those in need. This volunteer position allows me to reach out to my peers and make connections while also helping the community. The countless hours of communication, organization, and support for these events has allowed me to see the impact one person can have. Knowing that one person can make a substantial difference is what draws me to community service. Thus far, the blood drives I have coordinated are credited with saving four hundred and fifty lives. These lives were saved as a result of the amazing work of volunteers, donors, medical professionals, and science. Realizations such as these fuel my passion for healthcare and drive my dreams for the future. I am dedicating my future to serving people in my community through advancing research and creating myoelectric prosthetic devices for amputees. This decision came about due to an inspirational high school self-study course in which I designed a myoelectric prosthetic that could be 3D printed out of recycled ocean trash. I performed extensive research to design this cost-effective, eco-friendly device. While working on my independent study, I collaborated with engineers and interviewed amputees who held diverse viewpoints. The amputees explained how difficult it was for four-limbed, able-bodied individuals to understand their circumstances. One female amputee I interviewed said that current prosthetics manufacturing does not consider phantom limb pain. Many physicians dismiss it. Yet, it is very real. These conversations helped me understand the amputees’ point of view. My mentor and I discussed ways to increase the training that engineers and medical professionals receive to include actual interactions with amputees. I created a plan to educate these engineers about phantom pain and tested the plan with students in my district. Placing 3rd in a State Leadership Conference for my findings from this experiment, I continued my pursuit to express the position of amputees and drive continuing education as a community service. My experience of seeing able-bodied engineers looking past the needs of those they were meant to help made me recognize the fundamental need to close the communication void by bringing those with diverse viewpoints together. My goal for the future is to enhance this model and manufacture these prosthetics while I attend college as a Biomedical Engineering major. I will promote empathetic and communicative approaches. I am dedicated to assisting my community through my findings and ongoing efforts in the prosthetic field. I will continue to serve as I grow my knowledge in Biomedical Engineering and execute my goals.

My childhood brothers and sisters had four paws. I never had human siblings but having dogs more than completed our family. My two Alaskan Malamutes, Kila and Kona, inspired me immensely. I began my work in assistive devices when my two dogs suffered from degenerative myelopathy, causing them to go lame. After watching my snow-loving, active dogs go from pouncing in and out of snow piles to not being able to stand on their own, I was called to action. I found my purpose at age ten. An orthopedic veterinarian invited me to participate in a cat’s rear leg amputation. The surgery sparked a passion deep inside and I confidently declared I would make prosthetics for animals. My dogs and I have always loved enjoying the active, outdoor life that our beautiful state, Colorado, affords us. I am a member in the Rocky Mountain Region Alaskan Malamute Club. I have a strong relationship with this breed after showing my current dog, Kali, in AKC shows, where she championed at an early age. As I grew older I began to study the terrible disease that stole the life of my childhood dogs. Wanting to be more informed about this debilitating disease changed the course of my life forever. In high school, I began to create innovative prototype prosthetics. I attended medical courses, studying body kinetics and how prosthetics could assist amputee canines. As I gained more knowledge, I began to apply my strengths in this field to human patients. I pursued a self-managed independent study on prosthetic design. My study highlighted the scarcity of research for phantom limb pain in patients. I interviewed amputees, dove into research for phantom pain, and concluded my study with a research paper, interview evaluations, and infographics. Later, I shared my findings with middle schoolers. My teaching plan for pre-teens placed 3rd at the HOSA State Leadership Conference and received national recognition. Next, I embarked on another project, Myoelectric Prosthetics. I designed neuro-based devices that could be controlled via those same nerve impulses that caused phantom pain and researched the use of recycled ocean plastics to make them affordable. I gained life skills of time management, collaboration, hands-on experience, and empathy as I learned the hardships that these amputees face. These myoelectric prosthetics were devices I had previously wanted to create for Kila so that she could have a more normal doggie life. Later, I attended Junior Medical School at a local hospital. This opportunity allowed me to experience the medical field in a real-world environment. I shadowed hospital professionals and attempted hands-on care-taking skills. Developing connections with the Flight for Life Colorado team and dissecting a bison that week opened my eyes to the vastness of the medical world. This program affirmed my love for the prosthetic profession and bestowed a new perspective on teamwork. The same summer, I also became certified in K-9 CPR so that I would feel more comfortable caring for my pets. This came in handy when I had to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on my dog when she choked on a treat. I am excited to study biomedical engineering with a minor in neurology at Duke University and then pursue a job in the medical field. I am devoted to the future of health sciences and look forward to propelling medical innovations into blooming realities. My first dogs were my inspiration to begin this journey into the medical field and, specifically, prosthetics. They will always be in my heart, and will continue to be my driving force as I work to find assistive device solutions.