His life started to slip away, and with that, so did mine. His heart stopped beating right there on the living room floor — the same floor where, years earlier, police had laid me down for refuge. I was only ten when I thought my guardian had died from what I now know was a pulmonary embolism. But the fast work of the medical team at R Adams Cowley Shock Trauma brought him back. He got a second chance at life, and in many ways, I got my third. That moment sealed my future. I knew I wanted to lead a team that gives hope, shows compassion, and offers people another chance at life. My journey into medicine began long before that day — it began in my earliest days, born with neonatal abstinence syndrome. My mother was addicted to opioids, an alcoholic, and abusive. I spent much of my toddlerhood locked in a room, crying for attention while she passed out nearby. At two years old, I was found in the back of her car while she was driving intoxicated. I weighed only 11 pounds, covered in blisters and soiled clothing. That night, law enforcement took me in — and I rested on the same floor my guardian flatlined on years later. Despite these early traumas, or perhaps because of them, I learned to turn my pain into purpose. Years later, while working in the MICU, I responded to a call involving a premature baby found on the floor with the placenta still attached. I helped with the resuscitation until the critical care team arrived. Then I turned to the mother — a woman I recognized from prior overdose calls. She was slumped in a corner, exposed and bleeding. While others focused on the infant, I focused on her. I clothed her, assessed her, and held her hand. She didn’t want to go to the hospital — she wanted a cigarette. But I convinced her to get care because I saw in her what I had seen in my own mother — someone hurting, someone lost, someone human. I had studied the science of addiction, but this moment reminded me that real medicine treats more than the body — it treats the person. I’ve witnessed the destruction opioids cause, not just medically, but emotionally, tearing apart families like mine. But my education has taught me to approach addiction not with judgment, but with compassion. I’ve taken classes in trauma-informed and compassionate care, determined to treat patients with dignity, no matter their past. My love for serving the community led me to the fire department. One day, I responded to a call: a motor vehicle accident involving a child on a bicycle. I sprinted from the library, threw on my gear, and boarded Rescue 58. I was the first and only EMS provider on scene. The child had no life-threatening injuries, but he was frightened and couldn’t feel his hand. I assessed his wounds, comforted him, and kept him calm. Though I couldn’t fix his sensation loss, I realized I wanted to be the one who could — to have the knowledge and authority to guide care in life’s most critical moments. As a first-generation college student, I worked two jobs in high school and earned academic scholarships to fund my education. Every step I’ve taken has been fueled by resilience and a desire to serve. My past gives me a deep well of empathy; my training gives me the skills to act. I’ve stood in chaos, responded in crisis, and connected with people at their lowest points.

His life started to slip away, and with that, so did mine. His heart stopped beating right there on the living room floor — the same floor where, years earlier, police had laid me down for refuge. I was only ten when I thought my guardian had died from what I now know was a pulmonary embolism. But the fast work of the medical team at R Adams Cowley Shock Trauma brought him back. He got a second chance at life, and in many ways, I got my third. That moment sealed my future. I knew I wanted to lead a team that gives hope, shows compassion, and offers people another chance at life. My journey into medicine began long before that day — it began in my earliest days, born with neonatal abstinence syndrome. My mother was addicted to opioids, an alcoholic, and abusive. I spent much of my toddlerhood locked in a room, crying for attention while she passed out nearby. At two years old, I was found in the back of her car while she was driving intoxicated. I weighed only 11 pounds, covered in blisters and soiled clothing. That night, law enforcement took me in — and I rested on the same floor my guardian flatlined on years later. Despite these early traumas, or perhaps because of them, I learned to turn my pain into purpose. Years later, while working in the MICU, I responded to a call involving a premature baby found on the floor with the placenta still attached. I helped with the resuscitation until the critical care team arrived. Then I turned to the mother — a woman I recognized from prior overdose calls. She was slumped in a corner, exposed and bleeding. While others focused on the infant, I focused on her. I clothed her, assessed her, and held her hand. She didn’t want to go to the hospital — she wanted a cigarette. But I convinced her to get care because I saw in her what I had seen in my own mother — someone hurting, someone lost, someone human. I had studied the science of addiction, but this moment reminded me that real medicine treats more than the body — it treats the person. I’ve witnessed the destruction opioids cause, not just medically, but emotionally, tearing apart families like mine. But my education has taught me to approach addiction not with judgment, but with compassion. I’ve taken classes in trauma-informed and compassionate care, determined to treat patients with dignity, no matter their past. My love for serving the community led me to the fire department. One day, I responded to a call: a motor vehicle accident involving a child on a bicycle. I sprinted from the library, threw on my gear, and boarded Rescue 58. I was the first and only EMS provider on scene. The child had no life-threatening injuries, but he was frightened and couldn’t feel his hand. I assessed his wounds, comforted him, and kept him calm. Though I couldn’t fix his sensation loss, I realized I wanted to be the one who could — to have the knowledge and authority to guide care in life’s most critical moments. As a first-generation college student, I worked two jobs in high school and earned academic scholarships to fund my education. Every step I’ve taken has been fueled by resilience and a desire to serve. My past gives me a deep well of empathy; my training gives me the skills to act. I’ve stood in chaos, responded in crisis, and connected with people at their lowest points.

His life started to slip away, and with that, so did mine. His heart stopped beating right there on the living room floor — the same floor where, years earlier, police had laid me down for refuge. I was only ten when I thought my guardian had died from what I now know was a pulmonary embolism. But the fast work of the medical team at R Adams Cowley Shock Trauma brought him back. He got a second chance at life, and in many ways, I got my third. That moment sealed my future. I knew I wanted to lead a team that gives hope, shows compassion, and offers people another chance at life. My journey into medicine began long before that day — it began in my earliest days, born with neonatal abstinence syndrome. My mother was addicted to opioids, an alcoholic, and abusive. I spent much of my toddlerhood locked in a room, crying for attention while she passed out nearby. At two years old, I was found in the back of her car while she was driving intoxicated. I weighed only 11 pounds, covered in blisters and soiled clothing. That night, law enforcement took me in — and I rested on the same floor my guardian flatlined on years later. Despite these early traumas, or perhaps because of them, I learned to turn my pain into purpose. Years later, while working in the MICU, I responded to a call involving a premature baby found on the floor with the placenta still attached. I helped with the resuscitation until the critical care team arrived. Then I turned to the mother — a woman I recognized from prior overdose calls. She was slumped in a corner, exposed and bleeding. While others focused on the infant, I focused on her. I clothed her, assessed her, and held her hand. She didn’t want to go to the hospital — she wanted a cigarette. But I convinced her to get care because I saw in her what I had seen in my own mother — someone hurting, someone lost, someone human. I had studied the science of addiction, but this moment reminded me that real medicine treats more than the body — it treats the person. I’ve witnessed the destruction opioids cause, not just medically, but emotionally, tearing apart families like mine. But my education has taught me to approach addiction not with judgment, but with compassion. I’ve taken classes in trauma-informed and compassionate care, determined to treat patients with dignity, no matter their past. My love for serving the community led me to the fire department. One day, I responded to a call: a motor vehicle accident involving a child on a bicycle. I sprinted from the library, threw on my gear, and boarded Rescue 58. I was the first and only EMS provider on scene. The child had no life-threatening injuries, but he was frightened and couldn’t feel his hand. I assessed his wounds, comforted him, and kept him calm. Though I couldn’t fix his sensation loss, I realized I wanted to be the one who could — to have the knowledge and authority to guide care in life’s most critical moments. As a first-generation college student, I worked two jobs in high school and earned academic scholarships to fund my education. Every step I’ve taken has been fueled by resilience and a desire to serve. My past gives me a deep well of empathy; my training gives me the skills to act. I’ve stood in chaos, responded in crisis, and connected with people at their lowest points.

His life started to slip away, and with that, so did mine. His heart stopped beating right there on the living room floor — the same floor where, years earlier, police had laid me down for refuge. I was only ten when I thought my guardian had died from what I now know was a pulmonary embolism. But the fast work of the medical team at R Adams Cowley Shock Trauma brought him back. He got a second chance at life, and in many ways, I got my third. That moment sealed my future. I knew I wanted to lead a team that gives hope, shows compassion, and offers people another chance at life. My journey into medicine began long before that day — it began in my earliest days, born with neonatal abstinence syndrome. My mother was addicted to opioids, an alcoholic, and abusive. I spent much of my toddlerhood locked in a room, crying for attention while she passed out nearby. At two years old, I was found in the back of her car while she was driving intoxicated. I weighed only 11 pounds, covered in blisters and soiled clothing. That night, law enforcement took me in — and I rested on the same floor my guardian flatlined on years later. Despite these early traumas, or perhaps because of them, I learned to turn my pain into purpose. Years later, while working in the MICU, I responded to a call involving a premature baby found on the floor with the placenta still attached. I helped with the resuscitation until the critical care team arrived. Then I turned to the mother — a woman I recognized from prior overdose calls. She was slumped in a corner, exposed and bleeding. While others focused on the infant, I focused on her. I clothed her, assessed her, and held her hand. She didn’t want to go to the hospital — she wanted a cigarette. But I convinced her to get care because I saw in her what I had seen in my own mother — someone hurting, someone lost, someone human. I had studied the science of addiction, but this moment reminded me that real medicine treats more than the body — it treats the person. I’ve witnessed the destruction opioids cause, not just medically, but emotionally, tearing apart families like mine. But my education has taught me to approach addiction not with judgment, but with compassion. I’ve taken classes in trauma-informed and compassionate care, determined to treat patients with dignity, no matter their past. My love for serving the community led me to the fire department. One day, I responded to a call: a motor vehicle accident involving a child on a bicycle. I sprinted from the library, threw on my gear, and boarded Rescue 58. I was the first and only EMS provider on scene. The child had no life-threatening injuries, but he was frightened and couldn’t feel his hand. I assessed his wounds, comforted him, and kept him calm. Though I couldn’t fix his sensation loss, I realized I wanted to be the one who could — to have the knowledge and authority to guide care in life’s most critical moments. As a first-generation college student, I worked two jobs in high school and earned academic scholarships to fund my education. Every step I’ve taken has been fueled by resilience and a desire to serve. My past gives me a deep well of empathy; my training gives me the skills to act. I’ve stood in chaos, responded in crisis, and connected with people at their lowest points.

His life started to slip away, and with that, so did mine. His heart stopped beating right there on the living room floor — the same floor where, years earlier, police had laid me down for refuge. I was only ten when I thought my guardian had died from what I now know was a pulmonary embolism. But the fast work of the medical team at R Adams Cowley Shock Trauma brought him back. He got a second chance at life, and in many ways, I got my third. That moment sealed my future. I knew I wanted to lead a team that gives hope, shows compassion, and offers people another chance at life. My journey into medicine began long before that day — it began in my earliest days, born with neonatal abstinence syndrome. My mother was addicted to opioids, an alcoholic, and abusive. I spent much of my toddlerhood locked in a room, crying for attention while she passed out nearby. At two years old, I was found in the back of her car while she was driving intoxicated. I weighed only 11 pounds, covered in blisters and soiled clothing. That night, law enforcement took me in — and I rested on the same floor my guardian flatlined on years later. Despite these early traumas, or perhaps because of them, I learned to turn my pain into purpose. Years later, while working in the MICU, I responded to a call involving a premature baby found on the floor with the placenta still attached. I helped with the resuscitation until the critical care team arrived. Then I turned to the mother — a woman I recognized from prior overdose calls. She was slumped in a corner, exposed and bleeding. While others focused on the infant, I focused on her. I clothed her, assessed her, and held her hand. She didn’t want to go to the hospital — she wanted a cigarette. But I convinced her to get care because I saw in her what I had seen in my own mother — someone hurting, someone lost, someone human. I had studied the science of addiction, but this moment reminded me that real medicine treats more than the body — it treats the person. I’ve witnessed the destruction opioids cause, not just medically, but emotionally, tearing apart families like mine. But my education has taught me to approach addiction not with judgment, but with compassion. I’ve taken classes in trauma-informed and compassionate care, determined to treat patients with dignity, no matter their past. My love for serving the community led me to the fire department. One day, I responded to a call: a motor vehicle accident involving a child on a bicycle. I sprinted from the library, threw on my gear, and boarded Rescue 58. I was the first and only EMS provider on scene. The child had no life-threatening injuries, but he was frightened and couldn’t feel his hand. I assessed his wounds, comforted him, and kept him calm. Though I couldn’t fix his sensation loss, I realized I wanted to be the one who could — to have the knowledge and authority to guide care in life’s most critical moments. As a first-generation college student, I worked two jobs in high school and earned academic scholarships to fund my education. Every step I’ve taken has been fueled by resilience and a desire to serve. My past gives me a deep well of empathy; my training gives me the skills to act, my next barrier is the finances. Thank you for considering.

His life started to slip away, and with that, so did mine. His heart stopped beating right there on the living room floor — the same floor where, years earlier, police had laid me down for refuge. I was only ten when I thought my guardian had died from what I now know was a pulmonary embolism. But the fast work of the medical team at R Adams Cowley Shock Trauma brought him back. He got a second chance at life, and in many ways, I got my third. That moment sealed my future. I knew I wanted to lead a team that gives hope, shows compassion, and offers people another chance at life. My journey into medicine began long before that day — it began in my earliest days, born with neonatal abstinence syndrome. My mother was addicted to opioids, an alcoholic, and abusive. I spent much of my toddlerhood locked in a room, crying for attention while she passed out nearby. At two years old, I was found in the back of her car while she was driving intoxicated. I weighed only 11 pounds, covered in blisters and soiled clothing. That night, law enforcement took me in — and I rested on the same floor my guardian flatlined on years later. Despite these early traumas, or perhaps because of them, I learned to turn my pain into purpose. Years later, while working in the MICU, I responded to a call involving a premature baby found on the floor with the placenta still attached. I helped with the resuscitation until the critical care team arrived. Then I turned to the mother — a woman I recognized from prior overdose calls. She was slumped in a corner, exposed and bleeding. While others focused on the infant, I focused on her. I clothed her, assessed her, and held her hand. She didn’t want to go to the hospital — she wanted a cigarette. But I convinced her to get care because I saw in her what I had seen in my own mother — someone hurting, someone lost, someone human. I had studied the science of addiction, but this moment reminded me that real medicine treats more than the body — it treats the person. I’ve witnessed the destruction opioids cause, not just medically, but emotionally, tearing apart families like mine. But my education has taught me to approach addiction not with judgment, but with compassion. I’ve taken classes in trauma-informed and compassionate care, determined to treat patients with dignity, no matter their past. My love for serving the community led me to the fire department. One day, I responded to a call: a motor vehicle accident involving a child on a bicycle. I sprinted from the library, threw on my gear, and boarded Rescue 58. I was the first and only EMS provider on scene. The child had no life-threatening injuries, but he was frightened and couldn’t feel his hand. I assessed his wounds, comforted him, and kept him calm. Though I couldn’t fix his sensation loss, I realized I wanted to be the one who could — to have the knowledge and authority to guide care in life’s most critical moments. As a first-generation college student, I worked two jobs in high school and earned academic scholarships to fund my education. Every step I’ve taken has been fueled by resilience and a desire to serve. My past gives me a deep well of empathy; my training gives me the skills to act. I’ve stood in chaos, responded in crisis, and connected with people at their lowest points.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency services is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency services is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Union Hose Co. My 100-pound 5”2’ female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear and bulky tools needed to fight fire and run the Quick Response System. This path came with an emotional toll and dedication of time, but it became my passion. I found myself bringing homework down to the station, waiting, in anticipation of serving on calls that ranged from fire alarms to motorcycle accidents, a silo collapse, to cardiac arrest. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages in emergencies has engraved its place in my heart; what an honor and privilege it is to be called to intervene and fight like hell for someone on what is likely the worst day of their life. My pager went off “MV-Accident W/Injuries Vehicle v Bicycle.” I sprinted from the library to the station, leaving all my belongings behind. I threw my gear on and climbed into the back of Rescue 58, where there were three firefighters with me, and we took off with lights and sirens. The lieutenant informed me that I would be the first and only EMS provider on scene until an ambulance arrived. I was worried, I had just recently passed my NREMT and did not have much experience and had never been on my own before. It felt daunting when dispatch informed us that the patient was a child. I stuck to what I knew as my fellow firefighters watched, airway- patent, breathing- equal and adequate, circulation- good. He did not have life-threatening bleeding but there were many wounds I could attend to, so I focused on his wounds, frantically. The boy could not feel his hand and it worried him, especially since his parents were not there. I tried to comfort him, but unfortunately, I could not help with his loss of sensation even though I wish I had learned everything in my power to treat him. This experience sealed my ever-present desire for the highest level of education as a medical doctor, so I am not waiting for someone with more knowledge; I need to be that someone myself. When I was born, I spent my toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out on the couch. She was addicted to opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back of my mother’s car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, with blisters covering my skin. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome and was abused. After being taken in by Social Services, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship, after too many second chances. This challenging upbringing helped me to be more empathetic to those I serve despite the mental and physical hardships, as I have a deeper understanding of the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors. I have seen the damage opioids inflict on the family unit, yet I have practiced and taken classes on compassionate care for those suffering from addiction. I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment and compassion. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable individuals despite any potential stigma. This led me to work two jobs in high school to put myself through college in hopes of studying as a first-generation college student.

I was a newcomer at Union Hose Co. My 100-pound 5”2’ female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear and bulky tools needed to fight fire and run the Quick Response System. This path came with an emotional toll and dedication of time, but it became my passion. I found myself bringing homework down to the station, waiting, in anticipation of serving on calls that ranged from fire alarms to motorcycle accidents, a silo collapse, to cardiac arrest. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages in emergencies has engraved its place in my heart; what an honor and privilege it is to be called to intervene and fight like hell for someone on what is likely the worst day of their life. My pager went off “MV-Accident W/Injuries Vehicle v Bicycle.” I sprinted from the library to the station, leaving all my belongings behind. I threw my gear on and climbed into the back of Rescue 58, where there were three firefighters with me, and we took off with lights and sirens. The lieutenant informed me that I would be the first and only EMS provider on scene until an ambulance arrived. I was worried, I had just recently passed my NREMT and did not have much experience and had never been on my own before. It felt daunting when dispatch informed us that the patient was a child. I stuck to what I knew as my fellow firefighters watched, airway- patent, breathing- equal and adequate, circulation- good. He did not have life-threatening bleeding but there were many wounds I could attend to, so I focused on his wounds, frantically. The boy could not feel his hand and it worried him, especially since his parents were not there. I tried to comfort him, but unfortunately, I could not help with his loss of sensation even though I wish I had learned everything in my power to treat him. This experience sealed my ever-present desire for the highest level of education as a medical doctor, so I am not waiting for someone with more knowledge; I need to be that someone myself. When I was born, I spent my toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out on the couch. She was addicted to opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back of my mother’s car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, with blisters covering my skin. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome and was abused. After being taken in by Social Services, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship, after too many second chances. This challenging upbringing helped me to be more empathetic to those I serve despite the mental and physical hardships, as I have a deeper understanding of the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors. I have seen the damage opioids inflict on the family unit, yet I have practiced and taken classes on compassionate care for those suffering from addiction. I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment and compassion. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable individuals despite any potential stigma. This led me to work two jobs in high school to put myself through college in hopes of studying as a first-generation college student.

I was a newcomer at Union Hose Co. My 100-pound 5”2’ female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear and bulky tools needed to fight fire and run the Quick Response System. This path came with an emotional toll and dedication of time, but it became my passion. I found myself bringing homework down to the station, waiting, in anticipation of serving on calls that ranged from fire alarms to motorcycle accidents, a silo collapse, to cardiac arrest. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages in emergencies has engraved its place in my heart; what an honor and privilege it is to be called to intervene and fight like hell for someone on what is likely the worst day of their life. My pager went off “MV-Accident W/Injuries Vehicle v Bicycle.” I sprinted from the library to the station, leaving all my belongings behind. I threw my gear on and climbed into the back of Rescue 58, where there were three firefighters with me, and we took off with lights and sirens. The lieutenant informed me that I would be the first and only EMS provider on scene until an ambulance arrived. I was worried, I had just recently passed my NREMT and did not have much experience and had never been on my own before. It felt daunting when dispatch informed us that the patient was a child. I stuck to what I knew as my fellow firefighters watched, airway- patent, breathing- equal and adequate, circulation- good. He did not have life-threatening bleeding but there were many wounds I could attend to, so I focused on his wounds, frantically. The boy could not feel his hand and it worried him, especially since his parents were not there. I tried to comfort him, but unfortunately, I could not help with his loss of sensation even though I wish I had learned everything in my power to treat him. This experience sealed my ever-present desire for the highest level of education as a medical doctor, so I am not waiting for someone with more knowledge; I need to be that someone myself. When I was born, I spent my toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out on the couch. She was addicted to opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back of my mother’s car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, with blisters covering my skin. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome and was abused. After being taken in by Social Services, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship, after too many second chances. This challenging upbringing helped me to be more empathetic to those I serve despite the mental and physical hardships, as I have a deeper understanding of the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors. I have seen the damage opioids inflict on the family unit, yet I have practiced and taken classes on compassionate care for those suffering from addiction. I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment and compassion. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable individuals despite any potential stigma. This led me to work two jobs in high school to put myself through college in hopes of studying as a first-generation college student.

I was a newcomer at Union Hose Co. My 100-pound 5”2’ female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear and bulky tools needed to fight fire and run the Quick Response System. This path came with an emotional toll and dedication of time, but it became my passion. I found myself bringing homework down to the station, waiting, in anticipation of serving on calls that ranged from fire alarms to motorcycle accidents, a silo collapse, to cardiac arrest. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages in emergencies has engraved its place in my heart; what an honor and privilege it is to be called to intervene and fight like hell for someone on what is likely the worst day of their life. My pager went off “MV-Accident W/Injuries Vehicle v Bicycle.” I sprinted from the library to the station, leaving all my belongings behind. I threw my gear on and climbed into the back of Rescue 58, where there were three firefighters with me, and we took off with lights and sirens. The lieutenant informed me that I would be the first and only EMS provider on scene until an ambulance arrived. I was worried, I had just recently passed my NREMT and did not have much experience and had never been on my own before. It felt daunting when dispatch informed us that the patient was a child. I stuck to what I knew as my fellow firefighters watched, airway- patent, breathing- equal and adequate, circulation- good. He did not have life-threatening bleeding but there were many wounds I could attend to, so I focused on his wounds, frantically. The boy could not feel his hand and it worried him, especially since his parents were not there. I tried to comfort him, but unfortunately, I could not help with his loss of sensation even though I wish I had learned everything in my power to treat him. This experience sealed my ever-present desire for the highest level of education as a medical doctor, so I am not waiting for someone with more knowledge; I need to be that someone myself. When I was born, I spent my toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out on the couch. She was addicted to opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back of my mother’s car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, with blisters covering my skin. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome and was abused. After being taken in by Social Services, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship, after too many second chances. This challenging upbringing helped me to be more empathetic to those I serve despite the mental and physical hardships, as I have a deeper understanding of the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors. I have seen the damage opioids inflict on the family unit, yet I have practiced and taken classes on compassionate care for those suffering from addiction. I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment and compassion. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable individuals despite any potential stigma. This led me to work two jobs in high school to put myself through college in hopes of studying as a first-generation college student.

I am a pre-med and I have a great passion through serving my community, with interests in health and emergencies. I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency services is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields. My volunteer calls with the Quick Response Service has ranged from treating a pedestrian v. motor vehicle, to rehab for firefighters, to cardiac arrest, to dementia patients and more, no matter the time or day or night.

I’m used to working twice as hard, from my beginning to the current moment trying to serve my community in a male dominated field. I was a newcomer at Union House Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools the interior firefighters requested, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body…I loved every moment. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls that ranged from fire alarms, motorcycle accidents, heart problems, and a silo collapse, to call-ins from dementia patients. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages in emergencies has engraved its place in my heart. They bring energy and clarity; whether it’s fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me, and I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community. When I was born, I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out on the couch. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of my mother's car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. This biological mother participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, was neglectful and abusive, as well as did anything to get ahold of more opioids, taking over her entire life. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, she kept racking up felonies, as a result, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent or addicted. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable individuals. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to the blood clots that traveled to his heart, lung, and leg, but an airlift to R Adam’s Cowley Shock Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. His complications continued, he had a blood clot filter placed, and varicose veins in his legs as a result, and I would bandage his wounds that resulted every morning at 4 a.m. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years that emergency response is what I want to do for the rest of my life, whether as a volunteer firefighter or EMT now or even eventually a physician in the trauma unit. I wanted to use my skills to save lives, therefore, I worked two jobs in high school in an attempt to put myself through school, despite being told I’d never make it. I got into and am excelling in college, slowly working my way to eventually apply to medical school in hopes of serving in a trauma center. Currently, I passed my NREMT and am working on my EVOQ in hopes of running the EMS quick response team at Union house, the volunteer fire department in Annville, whilst being a volunteer member going on fire and med calls as well as work for Life Lion EMS. Since joining Union House, there was a call that stuck with me being that the patient could not be saved since the flight medic did not arrive in time for an airlift transport after being crushed by a car. This experience sealed the deal that I want the highest level of education so that I am not standing around waiting for the next level of care to arrive, such as when the flight nurse was needed, it was too late. I need to be that higher level of care myself so I know I have done everything I can to help. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside as a first responder everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I increase my education in these fields. However, continuing education and the cost of living are getting hard to afford and this scholarship will aid and allow me to complete these classes, and I promise that supporting me with these funds will help and serve the community in the long run. Thank you for your consideration.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency services is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields. My volunteer calls with the Quick Response Service has ranged from treating a pedestrian v. motor vehicle, to rehab for firefighters, to cardiac arrest, to dementia patients and more, no matter the time or day or night.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency services is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency services is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency services is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and ultimately an emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency medicine is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and ultimately an emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency medicine is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and ultimate goal of an emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency medicine is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a firefighter, EMT, and the ultimate goal of emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that being an ER doctor is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency services is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency services is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.

I was a newcomer at Annville Fire Station. My 100-pound 5’2’female frame stood out against the flood of burly men. Still, I had been training to serve the community for over a year by weightlifting consistently, hoping to be able to transport the oversized gear, the bulky tools, and 50-pound first-in bags. This path came with an emotional toll, dedication of time, and strain on the body, but I loved it. I found myself bringing study materials down to the station as an excuse to sit there, waiting, in anticipation of serving on the calls. The adrenaline surge associated with the pages brings energy and clarity; whether fire or medical, you rush to the scene, assess, act, and find control in turbulent times. After the crisis is over, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. I know my future as a volunteer firefighter, EMT, and eventually emergency medicine physician is the right choice for me. I use and will continue to use my knowledge and experiences in my life to save many lives in the community, and I see this as a profound privilege. I spent a portion of toddlerhood locked in a room crying for a mother who was, instead, shooting up and passing out. She was addicted to multiple opioids and was an alcoholic. Around the age of one, I was found in the back seat of her car while she was driving intoxicated late at night. Weighing barely 11 pounds, I was soiled, having urine all over my body, with blisters covering my skin. Mom participated in risky behaviors, violent outbursts, bad decision-making, and was neglectful and abusive. I was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, and after being taken in a handful of times by Social Services, trying my best to move on and upwards in life, I was placed in a court-ordered guardianship. This challenging upbringing is not without its positives, it has taught me to be more empathetic towards those I serve no matter the background. This deeper understanding of addiction and the suffering people may be experiencing behind closed doors aids my ability to thoroughly serve the community. I have seen and experienced the damage opioids can inflict on the family unit when they become dependent. Yet, I have practiced and have taken opioid classes at the collegiate level on how to administer compassionate care to those suffering, I understand that it is a disease that needs treatment. My firsthand experience with the consequences of addiction and tough home lives, especially at aims in protecting children in tough living conditions, allows me to advocate for the most vulnerable patients. When I was 10, my guardian was said to be as good as dead due to a pulmonary embolism but an airlift to a level 1 Trauma Center brought him back after flatlining. This traumatic incident turned out to be the very spark of my desire to work in the emergency services, to be like the heroes who saved the person who saved me from a life of suffering. I realized at the early age of 10 years old that emergency services is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. In emergencies, from the outside perspective, everything seems scary and hectic, but from the inside, everyone has a role and importance in the overall goal, each responder brings immense value to the community. Through my experiences with emergency services, I understand that saving lives is the goal, but not always the outcome, however, I plan on increasing those odds as I expand my education in these fields.