The first Taylor Swift songs I heard were Shake it Off and Blank Space off of her 1989 album when I was about eight years old. At the time, my younger sister and I loved to jam to these songs, and my mom's photo storage began to fill up quick from all the choreographed performances we would do to those soundtracks. Looking back, this period in my life was almost certainly my "awkward" phase. I was a chubby little girl with wacky teeth and a very, very bad bangs. And I truly do believe that if had seen that then, I would have been very unhappy with myself and begin to spiral. However, in watching Taylor Swift's funny and catchy songs and music videos, I was able to express myself as a kid and not care about what anyone thinks of me or how I look and act, a sentiment I'm sure Dr. Swift shares herself. From that moment on, every release, every tour, every drop, and every announcement from Taylor became all I would talk about. Her reputation album was edgy and vengeful, and just right for my transition into a teenager. Her Lover album was sweet and filled with bangers that I couldn't help but sing along to. Her indie Folklore and Evermore sister albums, possibly my favorite of her entire discography, showcased gentle love, rage, and sorrow in ways I had never heard before. The entirety of the pandemic saw me playing these tunes on repeat and it helped me cope with the many family deaths and tragedies during this time. When the Midnights album came out, I was thrilled I had more songs to sing along to and relate to, but I was even more excited about the Eras Tour announcement. I wished more than anything that I could attend one, and my mom granted my wish when my aunts, my mom, my sister, and I went to see her NJ show in May. My camera roll is still filled with videos and pictures of her singing and dancing along to all of my favorites, and I will forever be happy to announce that my first ever concert was my absolute most favorite artist in the world (although I haven't posted half of them since my less than stellar sing-screaming overpowered Taylor's much sweeter voice... let's just say I wasn't cut out to be a singer!). For the next year, my social media feed was constantly filled with clips of her performing during her other stops of the Eras Tour and I was consistently amazed by her wonderful performances, endless empathy, and hidden easter eggs for future music releases (and yes I am still clowning for Rep TV!!!). When Taylor went up at the Grammy's wearing all black and white and I thought with 100% certainty that the re-recording one of my near-closest favorite albums would be announced, but I was pleasantly surprised at the fact that she was releasing AN ENTIRE NEW ALBUM?? And even further, the fact that she released an additional twenty songs on a second part?? While still performing in an international tour?? If she wasn't already my favorite artist before, she certainly would be now. I will continue to be one of Taylor's biggest fans and am eagerly awaiting whatever re-records or new albums she decides to grace her fans with. All I can say, is that the Eras Tour, and the music and experiences that came hand-in-hand with it were an incredible journey that I would not take back for the world!

I have always been a very curious and wondrous person, always wanting to know more about everything and how things work, so I naturally drifted towards medicine as my future career path. Medicine is such a large and constantly evolving field that it would be impossible for someone to know everything about every single specialty, but it certainly is conducive to people who want to try their best to do so. I am a female in STEM, which has already proved to have some obstacles, but I was encouraged by many members of my family in the medical field who supported my dreams and motivated me to continue in my path towards medical school. Two summers ago, I dislocated my left patella kneecap and tore my meniscus right before a tennis camp in preparation for the school team, leaving me completely devastated and frustrated that I was helpless. I was taken in an ambulance to the ER where various doctors, nurses, and surgeons spoke to me about pain levels and possible future steps. Now, I could just spend the rest of the essay speaking about this journey as the first time I stayed at the hospital and gained first-hand experience with patient care and testing procedures with MRI and CT scans. However, I would like to shift to two particular experiences I had with different orthopedic surgeons and how I was affected by both of them. The first experience is with the on-call orthopedic surgeon at the hospital. Hours after arriving in the bustling environment of the hospital’s ER, getting hooked to an IV, a splint being fastened to my knee, a crutch being provided for me, and multiple crying sessions with my parents, the curtain opened to an older man who strode into the room. I was extremely nervous about the situation, but I wiped my tears and tried to focus on what he was saying. However, his words weren’t exactly encouraging: he emphasized that I might not be able to play tennis for the next few years and that patellar surgery seemed like the only option at that point. I was devastated and couldn’t fathom the idea that not only would I not be able to be active for the following years, I would also have a knee surgery that would affect me for the rest of my life, as he described. We went to him weekly for the next month, going to his office, getting multiple X-rays, and him telling my parents that I needed to prepare for a surgery. But one day, my dad, a medical professional, asked how often I would continue to get X-rays. When he said weekly, my dad’s face tightened and after leaving the office, he suggested we get a second opinion because he wasn’t sure all of this testing was necessary. I was very hesitant, but after meeting the second orthopedic surgeon, a younger female doctor, I was instantly put at ease. She soothed my worries and assured me that it would be completely possible to return back to an active lifestyle sooner rather than later. She told me it was not necessary to get X-rays weekly, and that I could put my knee in a brace instead of just a rigid splint as the previous surgeon suggested. The reason I want to go into the medical field (particularly into orthopedic surgery) is to be the kind of inspiring surgeon that my second surgeon was to me. The comforting, assuring, ethical, and completely honest medical professional that can change lives, whether just through emotional support or physically saving someone’s life.

When I was a kid, no one knew what they wanted to do for a career. They flip-flopped between one extreme or the other, no rhyme or reason beyond it sounding cool or having perks. And cliché as it is, medicine just always seemed to be my passion; despite having some secondary options, they didn’t stray far from medicine as a whole (when I told my mom I was thinking about being a science teacher who only taught medicine and did it in a hospital with sick people not students, she told me I might as well be a doctor myself). As an Indian, everytime I mention to someone that I want to go into medicine, the first comment is always a funny attempt at, “classic Asian parent move huh?” At first I was confused: why are people pretending like this is my parents’ dream and not mine? But as I grew older, I noticed, appreciated, and enveloped myself within the encouraging environment my family provided for me. So many of my family members or family friends with medical careers would field questions from me, ranging from what they enjoyed most about day-to-day schedules to very specific questions that definitely should not be asked at the dinner table (if the awkward silence that fell over the room said anything about that, sorry mom!). I never ever once felt that my parents pushed me towards medicine just for the sake of being a doctor, getting money, or the prestige that comes with the MD title. In fact, after I told my dad, a medical professional himself, that I wanted to be a doctor, he looked at me and made a list of all the reasons I shouldn’t be a doctor. Burnout, barely any free time, rigorous classes, heavy workloads, complex content, and a long, long career path. And even though I wasn’t in high school yet and barely knew anything about the process of how I would get there, I looked at my dad and said “but I really want to.” Two summers ago, I dislocated my left patellar kneecap and tore my meniscus right before my tennis summer camp. It was obviously a very stressful and anxious time, and my overnight stays in the ER were anything but pleasant. But after a very frustrated thought of why did this have to happen to me now, right before I start high school, I startled myself with the idea that such a painful injury as this might have had a purpose even so: inspiration. I quickly became fascinated with the idea of becoming an orthopedic surgeon. I had some bad and good experiences with medical professionals during this time of my life, and one of my overarching goals in this career is to be one of the good ones who offers comfort, support, and encouragement that a patient will be able to recover, rather than pushing them down or trying to extort their money (unfortunately I am personally acquainted with such tactics).

As a child, I was so grateful that I was surrounded by family members who loved and supported me. However, despite my mother’s side of the family living so close in America, my dad’s family almost completely lived in India. I loved both sides equally, and it was important to my dad that we would talk to his family on his side every day, so even though we barely ever saw them in-person, I also had a close connection with my father’s side of the family. However, tragedy struck throughout the past decade, as my paternal grandfather suffered from a debilitating stroke which paralyzed his right side and prevented normal functions, and my paternal grandmother passed away after caring for him months later. This was completely unexpected and I mourned the loss of my grandparents who I didn’t see everyday but had formed an unbreakable connection with. Although I could never match my dad’s devastation, I had to grapple with the fact that my grandparents who were there for my whole life, who had cheered me up and encouraged me to be my best self, were practically gone. On top of this, my father had to leave for months for funeral preparations and home-care options, which meant that I also had to adapt to just under a year with very limited contact with my dad. Years later, during the pandemic, we received news that my dad’s sister, his only relative in America, was hospitalized from a fast growing cancer that had just been discovered. While talking to her children and registering a flight to Missouri, hours later we received another call that she had passed that same night she entered the hospital. Without the closure of seeing my aunt, who I was particularly close to, one last time, or even having time to properly grieve her death, her funeral was planned for the following week. She had been an anaesthesiologist, who had pushed me to pursue my dream of becoming a surgeon in the medical field, constantly inspiring and comforting me, so her death significantly impacted me and continues to this day. Further, just this past month, we received word from our family in India that my paternal grandfather, who had slight success in training his right-side to function again, had fallen once again, resulting in an additional injury which paralyzed his entire body. Currently, my dad is in India, trying to grapple with the situation and coming to terms with the fact that his dad, and last living parent, is coming to the end of his life. He cannot speak, walk, talk, open his eyes, eat food, or respond to light or touch stimuli. This is a devastating time and reality for my family and we can only hope that he will pass peacefully. Although I did not grow up with them around me, my dad’s side of our family was a lifeline and a foundation in cultural and medical roots that I relied on daily. The loss of and injuries to these various family members is a devastating tragedy that I do not think I will ever fully recover from. Both my paternal grandparents and my aunt were integral figures in my life who encouraged and supported me in my personal and academic endeavors, and though I will never, ever forget them, their stories inspire me to continue in my dream of becoming a practicing medical profession, just as they all were. I cannot overstate how empowered and inspired I am by the story of Cat Zingano, her significant struggles and the motivating way in which she continues to overcome these difficulties. Despite being pushed down time and time again, she found a way to continue for the sake of herself and her son; in a similar way, my father, mother, my sister and I were forced to continue in the face of adversity to push ourselves forward for ourselves and each other. Every person I meet who tells their inspirational story instills awe in me for the pure fact that they were able to gather the confidence and strength to overcome their struggles. These stories motivate me to continue in my path towards medicine and personal success despite any past struggles I am still grappling with or future struggles that I may never fully recover from. I know that from a lifelong role model as my mother, who suffered from Crohn’s disease for year, to a new one as Cat Zingano, whose story I only recently discovered, to myself, who recovered from a completely patellar knee dislocation not two summers ago right before making the school tennis team. I am continuously inspired by these people and am slowly but surely understanding the inner strength that I and we all have to overcome our personal and shared adversities.