At 26, as a dentist pursuing a career in Prosthodontics, I’ve come to understand that relationships are not peripheral to my goals, they are the very framework through which those goals take shape. Whether romantic, familial, or professional, relationships influence how I define success, how I practice dentistry, and how I sustain a meaningful life over time. Personally, my relationship with my fiance is one of the most grounding and motivating forces in my life. As I prepare for marriage, I see our partnership not only as a source of love and stability, but as a shared commitment to growth. Dentistry—especially a demanding specialty like prosthodontics—requires long hours, emotional investment, and continuous learning. Having a partner who understands and supports that journey allows me to pursue my ambitions without losing sight of balance and joy. At the same time, I recognize that a healthy relationship requires intentionality. I want to be just as present and supportive in my marriage as I am in my career, ensuring that neither is built at the expense of the other. My spouse reminds me that success is not only measured in professional milestones, but in the quality of the life we build together. During dental school, the loss of a close friend to suicide also profoundly reshaped how I understand the role of personal relationships in my life outside of my relationship with my fiance. It forced me to confront how easily people can struggle in silence, even in environments filled with driven, capable individuals. Since then, I no longer see relationships as something to maintain when time allows, but as essential, active commitments. They are the foundation of a support system—one where we check in on each other, create space for honesty, and recognize when someone may need help. This experience has made me more intentional about being present, both in giving and receiving support, and has deepened my appreciation for community. I now view myself not as an individual navigating challenges alone, but as part of a network that shares responsibility for one another’s well-being. That perspective carries into every aspect of my life, reinforcing the idea that care—whether for patients, loved ones, or colleagues—begins with genuine human connection. Professionally, relationships are central to the field I am entering. Prosthodontics, particularly in the context of full mouth reconstructions, is deeply relational. These cases often involve patients who have experienced years of dental challenges, medical complexity, or even emotional distress tied to their oral health. Treating them requires more than technical precision; it demands trust, patience, and continuity of care. I am drawn to this specialty because it allows me to form long-term relationships with patients, walking alongside them through transformative processes that can restore oral function as well as personal confidence and quality of life. In these extended treatment journeys, patients are placing immense trust in me. Building that trust requires listening carefully, communicating clearly, and respecting each patient’s unique story. Over time, these relationships become partnerships, where treatment decisions are made collaboratively and progress is shared. That continuity is deeply fulfilling to me, and it reinforces my belief that the most meaningful outcomes in dentistry are rooted in human connection. Mentorship and collaboration further highlight the role of relationships in my professional development. As I continue my training, I rely on mentors who model both clinical excellence and compassionate care. Their influence shapes how I practice and how I hope to lead and teach in the future. Collaboration also plays a central role. Dentistry does not exist in isolation; it intersects with broader healthcare systems. Strong professional relationships with physicians, nurses, and other specialists are essential, especially when managing patients with complex medical histories such as cancer. These interdisciplinary connections improve patient outcomes and create a more holistic approach to care. Ultimately, my long-term goals are not defined solely by becoming a skilled prosthodontist, but by becoming someone who builds lasting, meaningful relationships—with my patients, my colleagues, and my family. My career and my marriage are not competing priorities; they are complementary parts of a life centered on connection, purpose, and care.

The word cancer, to me, will always reminds me of gut punch, sick feeling I had when my mother called to tell me that my brother’s innocuous stomach pain was really liver cancer. Since 2021, I’ve had that same phone call with my mom twice more, each time confirming that my brother’s cancer is back, that his treatment didn’t work. The first time, I was in college and suddenly my whole life was crumbling around me. What had once been a life structured around routine college classes and laughter with friends and family crumbled. Cancer was a life sentence that brought with it so much fear and anxiety that each phone call would bring bad news. Seeing how much my brother and his wife were struggling, my family and I made the decision to give up everything to be with him, we sold our home and left dear friends to relocate. I did remote classes to be nearby as well. Life soon because defined by hospital visits and cooking meals he could stomach. My parents and I became caregivers and emotional anchors for one another despite no longer having a house to call home or familiar surroundings or friends to lean on. When we found out that the first treatment did not work, we only doubled down on our love for each other, determined to keep our hope. Through all that, I learned a lot about how to compartmentalize—school didn’t wait for me to be emotionally okay, my friends still had accomplishments they wanted to celebrate with me, and I also had dreams I wanted to accomplish. I also learned that relationships matter most of all and that a kind word can make someone’s day so much brighter. I determined that my pain would make me a better person, someone who can help other people heal their hurt. But cancer has a way of disrupting even the most cautious sense of peace. My brother’s most recent scan a few months ago, showed his cancer is back with a metastasis in his lungs. And this recurrence has affected me differently. While my family remains deeply committed to supporting my brother, our lives are now more geographically and logistically complicated. He lives far away, and the reality of balancing responsibilities—my clinical obligations, academic expectations, and preparing for my wedding—has made it difficult to be physically present as often as I want to be. There is a constant tension between where I am needed and where I wish I could be. The financial and emotional strain of traveling during his treatment adds another layer of difficulty, and the distance leaves me feeling helpless. Yet, despite this, I’m determined that cancer will not take away who I know I can be. I have learned that resilience is not about remaining unaffected by hardship, but about continuing forward despite it. There have been days when keeping up with patient care or academic responsibilities felt overwhelming, yet these responsibilities have also grounded me. They remind me that even in the midst of personal crisis, I can continue to serve others. I choose to use these experiences to relate better to my patients who are also grieving, to make myself a more empathetic and thoughtful person. Most importantly, I have learned to value presence in a deeper way. Whether through a phone call or message, connection has taken on new meaning. I no longer take time with loved ones for granted. I don’t know how my brother’s story will end, but I know I will be there for him every step with a positive attitude.

I knew I wanted to be a dentist on a hot January day in Bangkok, Thailand, in a men’s prison yard. At the time, my family and I had been living in Thailand for two years in the home my father had grown up in, and my grandfather had orchestrated a dental outreach with a team of thirty dental workers. At only nine years old, my courage, tenacity, and compassion gave me the strength to wander around the cell blocks saying “sawadee-ka” (“hello”) to the inmates-turned-patients. Eventually, the local dentists allowed me to help by holding flashlights pointed into the men’s open mouths while decayed and abscessed teeth were extracted. My other hand was often held tightly by the patient through each scary procedure. Though I was young, I became passionate about dentistry because I saw in this experience the intersection of dental missions, my Christian faith, and serving my community. Since then, I have eagerly joined Pathways to Health for national mission trips in Houston, Texas, and Spokane, Washington, where I served as a dental assistant during extractions, cleanings, and instrument sterilization. I have also joined the AMEN offshoot of Pathways to Health multiple times in California, where I live, as well as in New York City. My passion, however, has been with international missions—especially those where I can share both physical healing and Christianity. In high school, my mother began organizing medical missions through It Is Written to Miryalaguda, India. In 2015, I joined an evangelistic trip and medical eye camp where free cataract surgeries were performed and prescription glasses were distributed. Participating in helping people see again and witnessing their openness to God deeply moved me and solidified my desire to serve those often overlooked—the individuals marginalized by society due to race, gender, or socioeconomic status. Perhaps most importantly, while in dental school at Loma Linda University, I joined my school’s international mission service trip to Hava, Honduras, in 2024. Under the supervision of licensed dentists, I was able to perform dental radiographs, screenings, fillings, extractions, and surgeries with minimal direction. For me, this was a full-circle moment from my childhood in Thailand—except instead of holding the flashlight, I was now holding the dental instruments. During that week-long trip, I personally served over 100 people and connected with many of them through broken Spanish. One woman needed an extraction, and during the procedure, her hand trembled and tears filled her eyes. I could tell she was scared despite her bravado. I worked slowly, speaking to her throughout the procedure, and by the end, she hugged me and said, “Please come back! No one else cares about us enough to be gentle.” I felt deeply humbled. Truly, it is a gift to allow your talents to be used by God. Looking forward, I will pursue a residency in Prosthodontics, which specializes in full-mouth reconstruction and rehabilitation, and a DScD/PhD in biomaterials. I chose this specialty because I observed disparities in how edentulous patients and those with complex needs were treated by general dentists. I want my compassion and commitment to serving the “unseen” population to help these patients feel valued and cared for in an ethical and comprehensive way. Furthermore, during my mission service in Honduras, I noticed that dentists often focused on immediate needs, such as extractions and fillings, without addressing long-term rehabilitation for missing teeth. With advanced training, I hope to provide immediate full or partial dentures for international patients in need, helping to restore not only function but also dignity.