The vital monitors beeped aggressively around me, indicating that something needed to be done fast. The patient's blood pressure started dropping while his pulse accelerated until it reached and surpassed the threshold of tachycardia. Internal bleeding caused by the fall in the bathtub was causing the patient to be in excruciating pain, causing blood to pump throughout his body at an even faster rate, meaning more blood loss. I administered tachyarrhythmics for the heart arrhythmia and also gave him pain medication. Even after administering fluids, x-raying the area of injury, and calling him in for orthopedic surgery, it was too late. He flatlined right in front of me, and the simulation ended. I had never once before felt so defeated and helpless as I did at that moment because there was nothing, as far as I knew, that I could do to save him (keywords: as far as I knew). My teacher then taught me about the uses of Vitamin K and how I could have used it to stop the bleeding. Education, to me, is an experience, regardless of whether or not that experience is a good one. Through my failure in the simulation, I now know so much more than I did prior. Education not only means absorbing information through a lecture or note-taking but also applying that information actively to scenarios that occur regularly in everyday settings. Education never truly ends; it can be as simple as reflecting on the day and realizing what you can do differently or better tomorrow. Education also means sacrifice. It is something that you desire so desperately that you are willing to not watch your daily episode of Grey's Anatomy for it or stay up late hours of the night because you want to understand something better. Education is exciting, and one of my goals is to help others realize this. I spend multiple hours a week preparing simplified and engaging science-related presentations to give to younger kids who range in grades from Kindergarten to 5th grade. I work hard to break down any preconceived blocks they have in their minds toward learning and education. By showing them that education can be a hands-on experience and by showing them my passion for it, I can get them excited about learning as well. Being so driven by my desire for education is one of the primary reasons why I want to go into the medical field and become a doctor. The medical field is a place where you are constantly presented with difficult cases, none manifesting in the same way. With a different set of symptoms and different sets of reactions, you must, as a doctor, be able to use critical thinking and any knowledge you have to be able to diagnose and treat people effectively. No person is ever the same, so every experience is different. Different experiences mean education opportunities. As a doctor, I would be learning constantly, whether it be from my failures or successes, and I look forward to that eagerly.

A perfect drink: the iced chai with a little bit of pumpkin cream cold foam. One sip is all it takes to be transported back to my childhood in Pennsylvania. The crisp autumn mornings when I would walk around in parks with my mom, the vibrant orange, yellow, and red leaves crunching under our footsteps and falling on top of us as we walked. The hint of pumpkin spice transports me back to a time when I was much younger when the only concern I ever had was "How am I going to become a cab driver in New York City?" (This was my first ever career ambition). I was a social, confident child asking so many questions without thinking even once about what other people thought of me; it's different now. Now I worry about whether the car behind me is getting annoyed that I'm going exactly the speed limit, not 10 mph over. I worry about whether I breathe too loud in a room where everyone's taking a test or if I'm talking too much in a conversation. Every day, I miss the me who once was, but luckily the aspects of my former self that I miss so much can be remembered and relived through a tiny sip of pumpkin cream cold foam. Relaxed evenings spent in the living room with my family with the fireplace lit, I played with my brother on the wood tiles, and my mother recorded us while my dad encouraged us and watched TV. Everyone is busy now which means no evenings like those in Pennsylvania; I'm in my room working, my brother plays on his iPad, and my parents work in different rooms. We live in the brutal heat of Arizona now, where seasons like fall and spring don't really exist. The only thing I have to remember my childhood in Pennsylvania by is pumpkin cream cold foam. The chai represents a completely different aspect of my life. Chai originated from India, and growing up in an Indian household means serving chai at least two times a day, not that I have anything to complain about. However, growing up with traditional Indian parents also meant that I relied on myself for any degree of Americanization I aspired for. I exposed myself to music, social media, and even fast food. When I first went to Starbucks, I was eager to try out so many drinks at once. The chai, at the time, never appealed to me then because I thought "Well, we can just get that at home!" I was wrong. The chai at home and the chai at a coffee shop are two entirely different subjects: different flavors, different spices, and different feelings, and while they were different in some sense, they were the same because they were both chai. Something from one culture that I could connect to another. The Starbucks chai represents the fusion between my Indian heritage and my efforts to fit in with the rest of my American peers. Therefore, the iced chai with pumpkin cream cold foam gives me all that I could ever ask for in a drink. It essentially serves the childhood memories that I cherish on a platter and serves as a bridge between two entirely different cultures that each make up a significant part of who I am.