At the ripe age of six years old, I was faced with the hardest decision I had ever been faced with: what to name my childhood stuffed animal. For the life of me, I couldn't muster up a name for this stuffed dog. Any name I gave it never seemed right to me. As I examined the dog, I found a shooting star on its left hind leg. Ultimately, the answer became obvious, and I had to name it Star. Star was unequivocally the best name for her, as she was the light that got me through the worst times, even as I got older. I found out my uncle had lung cancer from my mom. The moment I found out, my heart felt as if it were plummeting to the bottom of the ocean floor. After hearing this, I went back to my Broadway-loving roots and played “For Forever” from Dear Evan Hansen. While listening to the soundtrack, I wondered why I was dwelling on this alone in my room when I could be helping him get through it. During one of the few days my uncle wasn't in the hospital, we brought his favorite food : chicken wings. I could tell that this was one of his bad days because he wouldn’t even touch the wings that he was never able to deny. Suddenly, I was back in my room, listening to “For Forever”. I couldn’t let him see my distress, so I plastered a smile on my face and talked about anything that came to mind: Has he ever been to a baseball game? What was his favorite team? At the worst time I could think of, an advertisement for children's cancer research appeared on screen. My uncle said, “I can barely go through this. I can't even imagine what they are going through." I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. He continued this one-sided conversation, but I felt like I was put in a freezer, getting colder and stiffer each second, devouring my ability to speak. Once his words finally registered in my head, I started to thaw out. I should be helping him take his mind off of this situation rather than wallow in my self-pity. Again, I switched the conversation to remove the black hole that had penetrated his mind. All I wanted to do was momentarily make him forget what he was going through. I realized I wanted to use these characteristics to help people who could not care for themselves and be an oncologist. Just as Star could brighten up my day, I want to be the person to brighten up a patient's day and look towards the highlights of this career path rather than the sadness that comes with it. To this day, I have Star in my bed every night to remind me to continue to be the bright light in everyone's life, as she was for me.

At the ripe age of six years old, I was faced with the hardest decision I had ever been faced with: what to name my childhood stuffed animal. For the life of me, I couldn't muster up a name for this stuffed dog. Any name I gave it never seemed right to me. As I examined the dog, I found a shooting star on its left hind leg. Ultimately, the answer became obvious, and I had to name it Star. Star was unequivocally the best name for her, as she was the light that got me through the worst times, even as I got older. I found out my uncle had lung cancer from my mom. The moment I found out, my heart felt as if it were plummeting to the bottom of the ocean floor. After hearing this, I went back to my Broadway-loving roots and played “For Forever” from Dear Evan Hansen. While listening to the soundtrack, I wondered why I was dwelling on this alone in my room when I could be helping him get through it. During one of the few days my uncle wasn't in the hospital, we brought his favorite food: chicken wings. This was one of his bad days because he wouldn’t even touch the wings that he was never able to deny. Suddenly, I was back in my room, listening to “For Forever”. I couldn’t let him see my distress, so I plastered a smile on my face and talked about anything that came to mind: Has he ever been to a baseball game? What was his favorite team? At the worst time I could think of, an advertisement for children's cancer research appeared on screen. My uncle said, “I can barely go through this. I can't even imagine what they are going through." I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. He continued this one-sided conversation, but I felt like I was put in a freezer, getting colder and stiffer each second, devouring my ability to speak. Once his words finally registered in my head, I started to thaw out. I should be helping him take his mind off of this situation rather than wallow in my self-pity. Again, I switched the conversation to remove the black hole that had penetrated his mind. All I wanted to do was momentarily make him forget what he was going through. I realized I wanted to use these characteristics I have garnered from this experience to help people who could not care for themselves by being an oncologist. Just as Star could brighten up my day, I want to be the person to brighten up a patient's day and look towards the highlights of this career path rather than the sadness that comes with it. To this day, I have Star in my bed every night to remind me to continue to be the bright light in everyone's life, as she was for me.

At the ripe age of six years old, I was faced with the hardest decision I had ever been faced with: what to name my childhood stuffed animal. For the life of me, I couldn't muster up a name for this stuffed dog. Any name I gave it never seemed right to me. As I examined the dog, I found a shooting star on its left hind leg. Ultimately, the answer became obvious, and I had to name it Star. I couldn’t bear to leave her anywhere that I wasn’t. Star could give me a burst of energy—a bright light I couldn’t get without her. Star was unequivocally the best name for her, as she was the light that got me through the worst times, even as I got older. I found out my uncle had lung cancer from my mom while I was aimlessly scrolling on TikTok. The moment I found out, my heart felt as if it were plummeting to the bottom of the ocean floor. After hearing this, I went back to my Broadway-loving roots and played “For Forever” from Dear Evan Hansen in an attempt to let go of all the stress I had been faced with in the moment prior. While listening to the soundtrack, I wondered why I was dwelling on this alone in my room when I could be helping him get through it. During one of the few days my uncle wasn't in the hospital, we brought his favorite food to lighten his spirits: chicken wings. I could tell that this was one of his bad days because he wouldn’t even touch the wings that he was never able to deny. Suddenly, I was back in my room, listening to “For Forever”. I couldn’t let him see my distress, so I plastered a smile on my face and talked about anything that came to mind: Has he ever been to a baseball game? What was his favorite team? At the worst time I could think of, an advertisement for children's cancer research appeared on screen. My uncle said, “I can barely go through this. I can't even imagine what they are going through." I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. He continued this one-sided conversation, but I felt like I was put in a freezer, getting colder and stiffer each second, devouring my ability to speak. Once his words finally registered in my head, I started to thaw out. I should be helping him take his mind off of this situation rather than wallow in my self-pity. Again, I switched the conversation to remove the black hole that had penetrated his mind. All I wanted to do was momentarily make him forget what he was going through. This experience has made me realize that I have a natural tendency to help people. Specifically, I realized I wanted to use these characteristics to help people who could not care for themselves. This experience has not only made me aware of the fact that I want to be a doctor, but it has also made me aware that I want to be an oncologist. Just as Star could brighten up my day, I want to be the person to brighten up a patient's day and look towards the highlights of this career path rather than the sadness that comes with it. To this day, I have Star in my bed every night to remind me to continue to be the bright light in everyone's life, as she was for me.

At the ripe age of six years old, I was faced with the hardest decision I had ever been faced with: what to name my childhood stuffed animal. For the life of me, I couldn't muster up a name for this stuffed dog. Any name I gave it never seemed right to me. As I examined the dog, I found a shooting star on its left hind leg. Ultimately, the answer became obvious, and I had to name it Star. I couldn’t bear to leave her anywhere that I wasn’t. Star could give me a burst of energy—a bright light I couldn’t get without her. Star was unequivocally the best name for her, as she was the light that got me through the worst times, even as I got older. I found out my uncle had lung cancer from my mom while I was aimlessly scrolling on TikTok. The moment I found out, my heart felt as if it were plummeting to the bottom of the ocean floor. After hearing this, I went back to my Broadway-loving roots and played “For Forever” from Dear Evan Hansen in an attempt to let go of all the stress I had been faced with in the moment prior. While listening to the soundtrack, I wondered why I was dwelling on this alone in my room when I could be helping him get through it. During one of the few days my uncle wasn't in the hospital, we brought his favorite food to lighten his spirits: chicken wings. I could tell that this was one of his bad days because he wouldn’t even touch the wings that he was never able to deny. Suddenly, I was back in my room, listening to “For Forever”. I couldn’t let him see my distress, so I plastered a smile on my face and talked about anything that came to mind: Has he ever been to a baseball game? What was his favorite team? At the worst time I could think of, an advertisement for children's cancer research appeared on screen. My uncle said, “I can barely go through this. I can't even imagine what they are going through." I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. He continued this one-sided conversation, but I felt like I was put in a freezer, getting colder and stiffer each second, devouring my ability to speak. Once his words finally registered in my head, I started to thaw out. I should be helping him take his mind off of this situation rather than wallow in my self-pity. Again, I switched the conversation to remove the black hole that had penetrated his mind. All I wanted to do was momentarily make him forget what he was going through. This experience has made me realize that I have a natural tendency to help people. Specifically, I realized I wanted to use these characteristics to help people who could not care for themselves. This experience has not only made me aware of the fact that I want to be a doctor, but it has also made me aware that I want to be an oncologist. Just as Star could brighten up my day, I want to be the person to brighten up a patient's day and look towards the highlights of this career path rather than the sadness that comes with it. To this day, I have Star in my bed every night to remind me to continue to be the bright light in everyone's life, as she was for me.

At the ripe age of six years old, I was faced with the hardest decision I had ever been faced with: what to name my childhood stuffed animal. For the life of me, I couldn't muster up a name for this stuffed dog. Any name I gave it never seemed right to me. As I examined the dog, I found a shooting star on its left hind leg. Ultimately, the answer became obvious, and I had to name it Star. I couldn’t bear to leave her anywhere that I wasn’t. Star could give me a burst of energy—a bright light I couldn’t get without her. Star was unequivocally the best name for her, as she was the light that got me through the worst times, even as I got older. I found out my uncle had lung cancer from my mom while I was aimlessly scrolling on TikTok. The moment I found out, my heart felt as if it were plummeting to the bottom of the ocean floor. After hearing this, I went back to my Broadway-loving roots and played “For Forever” from Dear Evan Hansen in an attempt to let go of all the stress I had been faced with in the moment prior. While listening to the soundtrack, I wondered why I was dwelling on this alone in my room when I could be helping him get through it. During one of the few days my uncle wasn't in the hospital, we brought his favorite food to lighten his spirits: chicken wings. I could tell that this was one of his bad days because he wouldn’t even touch the wings that he was never able to deny. Suddenly, I was back in my room, listening to “For Forever”. I couldn’t let him see my distress, so I plastered a smile on my face and talked about anything that came to mind: Has he ever been to a baseball game? What was his favorite team? At the worst time I could think of, an advertisement for children's cancer research appeared on screen. My uncle said, “I can barely go through this. I can't even imagine what they are going through." I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. He continued this one-sided conversation, but I felt like I was put in a freezer, getting colder and stiffer each second, devouring my ability to speak. Once his words finally registered in my head, I started to thaw out. I should be helping him take his mind off of this situation rather than wallow in my self-pity. Again, I switched the conversation to remove the black hole that had penetrated his mind. All I wanted to do was momentarily make him forget what he was going through. This experience has made me realize that I have a natural tendency to help people. Specifically, I realized I wanted to use these characteristics to help people who could not care for themselves. This experience has not only made me aware of the fact that I want to be a doctor, but it has also made me aware that I want to be an oncologist. Just as Star could brighten up my day, I want to be the person to brighten up a patient's day and look towards the highlights of this career path rather than the sadness that comes with it. To this day, I have Star in my bed every night to remind me to continue to be the bright light in everyone's life, as she was for me.

At the ripe age of six years old, I was faced with the hardest decision I had ever been faced with: what to name my childhood stuffed animal. For the life of me, I couldn't muster up a name for this stuffed dog. Any name I gave it never seemed right to me. As I examined the dog, I found a shooting star on its left hind leg. Ultimately, the answer became obvious, and I had to name it Star. I couldn’t bear to leave her anywhere that I wasn’t. Star could give me a burst of energy—a bright light I couldn’t get without her. Star was unequivocally the best name for her, as she was the light that got me through the worst times, even as I got older. I found out my uncle had lung cancer from my mom while I was aimlessly scrolling on TikTok. The moment I found out, my heart felt as if it were plummeting to the bottom of the ocean floor. After hearing this, I went back to my Broadway-loving roots and played “For Forever” from Dear Evan Hansen in an attempt to let go of all the stress I had been faced with in the moment prior. While listening to the soundtrack, I wondered why I was dwelling on this alone in my room when I could be helping him get through it.  During one of the few days my uncle wasn't in the hospital, we brought his favorite food to lighten his spirits: chicken wings. I could tell that this was one of his bad days because he wouldn’t even touch the wings that he was never able to deny. Suddenly, I was back in my room, listening to “For Forever”. I couldn’t let him see my distress, so I plastered a smile on my face and talked about anything that came to mind: Has he ever been to a baseball game? What was his favorite team? At the worst time I could think of, an advertisement for children's cancer research appeared on screen. My uncle said, “I can barely go through this. I can't even imagine what they are going  through." I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. He continued this one-sided conversation, but I felt like I was put in a freezer, getting colder and stiffer each second, devouring my ability to speak. Once his words finally registered in my head, I started to thaw out. I should be helping him take his mind off of this situation rather than wallow in my self-pity. Again, I switched the conversation to remove the black hole that had penetrated his mind. All I wanted to do was momentarily make him forget what he was going through. This experience has made me realize that I have a natural tendency to help people. Specifically, I realized I wanted to use these characteristics to help people who could not care for themselves. I plan to study biology in college, where I will complete the required pre-med classes. After going through medical school, I plan on specializing in oncology. Just as Star could brighten up my day, I want to be the person to brighten up a patient's day in one of their darkest moments and look towards the highlights of this career path rather than the sadness that comes with it. To this day, I have Star in my bed every night to remind me to continue to be the bright light in everyone's life, as she was for me.