“Let’s put all of the names of the places we want to go in a hat and we’ll draw one!” This statement uttered by my mother would be one of my last memories of her not tainted with illness and fear. Siesta Keys was drawn from the hat, and it unlocked a door that I will forever wish had remain shut. Before the trip, my mom had been a nurse in the neuroscience department at Cleveland Clinic, and upon our return, she appeared healthy, happy. Yet as the weeks progressed, she began to struggle to stay awake. Then, after one of her long naps, she woke up in hysterics, crying out that she couldn’t walk. Doctor appointment after appointment revealed no specific cause. I had to watch her deteriorate without a reason why. In a short amount of time I had to learn to become self-sufficient. During the sixth grade, I learned to make my own meals for school and cook at home for both of us. I was always prepared next to her walker when she went through our home, the constant fear of her falling in the front of my mind. Prior to trips for groceries, I had to pack up her wheelchair in the cramped trunk of our car. I often had bruises cascading down my arms from where the bars and wheels had hit me just right. It felt as though a lot of things hit me “just right” that year, most of all was the reality that my mother wasn’t going to make it. Her first fall was the worst day of my life. She had tried to call me while I was asleep after she fell, but I never heard it. I woke up and walked out to the living room where she lay, almost lifeless. I called 9-1-1 and my grandparents, tears streaming faster with each number dialed. I watched her be wheeled away in an ambulance and I went to live with my grandma and grandpa. She was released from the hospital a few weeks later, still void of a diagnosis. Although my mom had went there to get better, it appeared as though she had gotten worse. As balancing advanced schoolwork and sports became more difficult, I began to worry more about her condition, as well as my own. I was burning the candle at both ends and every side, and was scared there would soon be nothing left. In the middle of my eighth grade year I explained to my mother that I could no longer live with her and juggle all of my responsibilities. She was immediately hospitalized after I left, and my grandparents took me up to the hospital nearly every day to see her for months. I began to fear the phone ringing in my school classrooms, terrified each time that it would be for me. And eventually, it was. On the day of my eighth grade academic ceremony, my mother passed away peacefully in Cleveland Clinic. I left school and missed the ceremony to say goodbye, and came back home with a new fire in me. I had always wanted to be in the medical field, but this transformed my passion into a bright inferno. My mother was strong, compassionate, and had an unwavering kindness that extended to everyone around her. She was my hero, and always told me to stay strong in the face of challenges. As a neuroscience nurse, she always strived to make her patients feel loved, often staying after work to speak with them or bringing them gifts from the gift shop. My goal in life is to save lives, just like my mom. I want to attend Youngstown State University to complete pre-medical studies. After that, my largest dream is to make it into the Cleveland Clinic Lerner College of Medicine and become a surgeon at Cleveland Clinic. My mother taught me that saving lives encompasses so many different things. It isn’t just about the heartbeat on the monitor and the words on the medical chart. It’s about creating deep connections and helping people feel better in every aspect of their life, because everyone deserves to feel loved. While my mother is no longer here with me, she helped shape the person that I am today. Although I wish she was still by my side, I know now that I faced that challenge to fuel my passion. I was forced into the role of a caretaker, yet I have no regrets. I realize now that I want to spend the rest of my life caring for others, albeit in a different setting. I will become a surgeon at Cleveland Clinic and work every single day to express the same love, passion, and determination that being my mother’s caregiver instilled into me.

Anyone who entered my house when I was younger can probably recall me marching around in my doctor costume with my mother’s stethoscope around my neck. The stethoscope always felt right there, as though it was exactly where it belonged. My mother was a nurse that worked in a neuroscience unit, and my childhood was filled with interesting stories about the human brain and how it reacted to certain trauma. I loved to sit on the couch with her and watch her gloss over her medical books, searching for the solutions to her patients’ ailments. During her time as a nurse during the COVID-19 Pandemic, she came down with an illness. My mother suffered for two years before finally passing away in May of 2023 in Cleveland Clinic. Like most kids will tell you, my mom was my hero, and even though she’s no longer here today, I still look up to her as a guide for the type of person I want to be. My mother connected deeply with all of her patients and their families, and she often bought them gifts or stayed after her shifts to comfort anyone in need. Once she got home, she would spend any free time that she had researching her cases to ensure her care was correct. My mother instilled her passion into me, and I will chase my dream no matter how many obstacles stand in my path. Despite not having a mother or father to provide for me, I know that I will achieve my goal to save lives by becoming a surgeon. I want to further my education by attending Youngstown State University. They boast a program in which valedictorians and salutatorians can attend free of tuition, which is my goal. There, I will major in medical studies and complete rotations in different hospitals to gain knowledge and experience. I have been told that getting into Cleveland Clinic Lerner College of Medicine is as likely as buying a lottery ticket and winning a million dollars. They accept 32 applicants from all over the world and train them not only to be successful in their position, but also to research and publish works on important medical issues. The fire of my passion burns bright, and I will not give up on what some may believe to be a smoke dream. My mom lost her life in Cleveland Clinic, and it is my biggest dream to honor her memory there by saving the lives of others. I want to interact on a deep level with patients and be a dedicated researcher that does everything in their power to save others. I know that stethoscope belongs around my neck, and I will achieve the title of surgeon to prove that no matter what challenges you face, passion can make any true dream achievable.

Parents always tell their children they are special, a one of a kind greatness. But I never felt special, as though missing part of a vital organ made me inferior to everybody else. I was born with gastroschisis, and a quick browser search will tell you it occurs when your abdomen develops incorrectly and causes your intestines to form outside of your body. Most babies survive without major complications, but I developed severe necrotizing enterocolitis and sepsis, an extremely fatal condition. It was surgery after surgery, prayer after prayer, until finally I was released from the hospital at a year old. The doctors told my parents that because I was premature and had so many complications, I might never be able to walk correctly or learn at the average pace. My father’s dream of a happy little girl seemed unachievable, and he abandoned my mother and I in search of fulfillment. My mother took care of me the best she could on her own as a proud nurse of Akron General’s (which later became Cleveland Clinic) neuroscience unit. My mother’s work and my medical history were a constant source of curiosity as I grew up. I wanted to know everything about how the body worked and why mine had become different. Her work during the COVID-19 Pandemic further exacerbated my interest. Despite having to live with my grandparents to prevent coronavirus exposure, we stayed in contact all the time. She would stand at the end of my grandparents’ driveway and tell me stories about her work and answer my never-ending stream of questions. My mother always supported me in all of my fascinations up until her last breath in May of 2023. Following her unfortunate death, I came into possession of all her medical books and notes. I became engrossed in medical journals, especially concerning diseases and how they operated to harm the body. I have since looked into multiple medical schools and know I want to be a surgeon, just like the people that saved me. Furthermore, I want to be like the kind hero that my mother was. Throughout my life I have spent every second trying to prove my doctors wrong and show them that I meant more than the small worth they assigned to me. I didn’t just strive for good grades in school. I volunteered helping clean the yards of the elderly and helped at my local library to organize books. I didn't just walk- I ran. I took large strides in my high school running career and made it to regionals for the 3200 meter run. Additionally, I learned to play a variety of instruments and now play in four bands. Within every area of my life, I have constantly been determined to help others and become the best version of myself. In my future, I will continue to do so. I aspire to save lives, and I have learned that I am worthy of that goal. I deserve my place in society and I have the ability to make the world better. I fought hard through twelve surgeries, and it was not in vain. I realize today that I wasn't just fighting for my future; I was fighting to give others a future. I know that I have worth now, and that everyone is special. I will save lives so that others may survive to find and acknowledge their worth, too.