Becoming disabled has fundamentally changed how I see the world, not because of what my body can no longer do, but because of what society quietly assumes about disability. Since sustaining a spinal injury in September, I have begun to notice how inaccessible, unprepared, and often indifferent many systems are to people with physical disabilities. This realization has reshaped my worldview and challenged assumptions I once held when I moved through the world without needing to think twice about access. One of the most immediate changes has been the way daily life now requires planning and negotiation. Energy, pain, and mobility dictate decisions that others rarely consider. Tasks that once felt routine—getting to class, attending appointments, moving through buildings—now involve contingency plans and careful timing. While accommodations exist in theory, in practice they are often incomplete, delayed, or inconsistently applied. This gap between intention and execution has revealed how easily disabled people are overlooked. I have also become acutely aware of how invisible physical disability can be. At times, I am spoken over, pitied, or ignored altogether. Other times, my needs are minimized because they do not fit neatly into what people expect disability to look like. These interactions have shown me how deeply society values productivity and independence, often at the expense of empathy and dignity. Because my disability is still new, I am in a space of transition and grief. I am learning to let go of who I was while not yet fully understanding who I am becoming. I do not yet feel fully connected to the disabled community, but I also feel increasingly estranged from the able-bodied world I once moved through without question. This in-between space can feel isolating, but it has also deepened my awareness of how many people quietly occupy similar margins. Despite this uncertainty, being part of the disabled community—whether I feel fully at home in it yet or not—has already shaped how I think about the future. I now see accessibility not as a special consideration, but as a basic requirement for equity. I recognize how important it is for newly disabled individuals to feel seen, supported, and believed, especially during the early months when identity and independence are still shifting. Moving forward, I intend to use my experience to advocate for better accessibility and more thoughtful inclusion, particularly within healthcare and educational spaces. I want to challenge assumptions about what disabled people are capable of and contribute to environments where dignity and autonomy are prioritized. I also hope to support others who are newly disabled, helping them feel less alone during a period that can be overwhelming and disorienting. Education plays a critical role in this vision. Continuing my education allows me to build a future that accommodates my disability without limiting my ambition. This scholarship would help reduce barriers that make higher education more difficult for disabled students and allow me to focus on learning, growth, and meaningful contribution. Being part of the disabled community has taught me that access is not a courtesy, invisibility is not neutrality, and adaptation is not weakness. While my understanding of disability is still evolving, it has already reshaped my worldview in lasting ways—and it will continue to guide how I move forward with empathy, advocacy, and purpose.

This opportunity is meaningful to me because it represents more than financial support—it affirms the belief that faith, perseverance, and purpose can coexist even when life unfolds differently than planned. As a financially underprivileged undergraduate student of faith, my journey has been shaped by unexpected challenges that required me to rely on my faith not as a comfort alone, but as a source of meaning when circumstances felt unfair and uncertain. My faith became especially significant after I became disabled following a spinal injury that abruptly altered my mobility and independence. Before that moment, I had worked toward a clear career path in emergency medical services, driven by a desire to serve others through hands-on care. Losing that path was devastating. Overnight, the future I had envisioned no longer felt attainable, and I was forced to confront questions about identity, purpose, and worth. In that season, faith gave meaning to what I could not immediately understand. Rather than offering easy answers, it grounded me when everything felt unstable. It reminded me that my value was not defined by physical ability or a single career trajectory, and that purpose does not disappear simply because circumstances change. Holding onto that belief allowed me to grieve what I lost without becoming consumed by it. One of my greatest triumphs has been reframing my purpose rather than abandoning it. While the form of my service changed, my commitment to helping others did not. I chose to continue my education and pursue a path in healthcare that aligns with both my capabilities and my calling. That decision required humility, patience, and trust—trust that forward progress does not always look like returning to what once was, but sometimes like stepping into something new. Faith has also shaped how I approach hardship moving forward. Instead of viewing challenges as signs of failure or punishment, I now see them as moments that require steadiness rather than panic. My faith guides me to stay grounded when plans change, to pause rather than spiral, and to take the next faithful step even when the full path is unclear. This perspective has helped me remain engaged in my education and committed to long-term goals despite ongoing uncertainty. Looking ahead, I plan to use my faith as an anchor throughout my academic and professional journey. As I continue toward a career in healthcare, I want faith to shape how I respond to obstacles—with integrity, perseverance, and compassion. I know there will be future moments where progress feels slow or fragile, but I also know that faith will continue to steady me when outcomes are beyond my control. The Jim Maxwell Memorial Scholarship reflects a legacy of nurturing growth in young people—not only academically, but spiritually and emotionally. Receiving this support would ease financial strain and allow me to remain focused on my education while continuing to build a future rooted in service and purpose. More importantly, it would reaffirm that faith, when paired with determination, can carry us forward even when the journey looks nothing like we imagined.

Living with bipolar I disorder has profoundly shaped how I understand myself, others, and the career I am building. My experience with mental health has not been confined to one moment, but one period stands out as especially transformative: returning to healthcare work after a two-week psychiatric hospitalization earlier this year. That experience forced me to reconcile who I was as a caregiver with the reality that I, too, needed care. After my hospitalization in February and March, I returned to emergency medical service work in April. Many of the patients I encountered were experiencing mental health crises similar to those I had recently faced myself. While caring for them, I was expected to remain calm, composed, and decisive—even on days when internally I felt fragile or overwhelmed. That tension reshaped my beliefs about strength. I learned that strength is not suppressing symptoms or pretending to be unaffected; it is managing mental illness responsibly, even when it would feel easier to spiral or withdraw. This period also changed how I view stigma. I realized how invisible mental illness can be, especially among people trained to help others. The expectation to “hold it together” often keeps people silent far longer than they should be. My own experience taught me that mental illness does not negate competence or compassion—it simply requires ongoing care and accountability. Helping others does not mean neglecting yourself, and ignoring that truth only deepens suffering. My relationships changed as well. I learned who I could truly rely on when stability felt uncertain, and I also learned the cost of compartmentalization. Carrying emotional weight at work while trying to appear unaffected elsewhere strained connections and deepened feelings of isolation. Over time, rebuilding trust required honesty—both with others and with myself. Those relationships are now grounded in openness rather than performance, and they have become a crucial part of my long-term stability. Career-wise, managing bipolar I has fundamentally reshaped how I approach healthcare. Rather than chasing roles defined by endurance alone, I am now intentional about sustainability. I value teamwork, communication, and environments where asking for help is not viewed as weakness. My experiences have deepened my empathy for patients in crisis and reinforced my belief in de-escalation, patience, and presence. I understand what it feels like to be on the other side of care, and that perspective will remain central to how I practice. Despite the challenges, my mental health journey has not pushed me away from healthcare—it has anchored me more firmly to it. I remain committed to building a career where compassion extends to both patients and providers, and where mental health is treated as an essential component of overall well-being, not an afterthought. As a first-generation, low-income student, financial support is critical to my ability to continue this path. This scholarship would help reduce barriers that compound mental health stress and allow me to focus more fully on my education and stability. More than that, it represents recognition that growth can come from struggle, and that those who have faced mental health challenges can still lead, serve, and make a meaningful impact. My experience with mental health has taught me responsibility, humility, and resilience. It has shaped my beliefs, deepened my relationships, and clarified my career aspirations—not in spite of the struggle, but because I chose to grow through it.

Bravery, to me, has never meant ignoring fear or pushing through pain without pause. It has meant continuing forward thoughtfully, even when my circumstances changed in ways I never anticipated. When confronted with physical and mental adversity, I learned that achieving my career aspirations would require flexibility, resilience, and the courage to redefine what progress looks like. During high school, I underwent major spinal surgery to correct severe scoliosis. While challenging, I believed it would be the end of my medical setbacks. Years later, after pursuing emergency medical training and working in patient-facing roles, I sustained another spinal injury that permanently altered my mobility. Overnight, my career trajectory shifted. I lost the ability to continue working as a field emergency medical provider, and with it, the identity I had built around that role. The initial months following that injury were filled with uncertainty and grief—not only for my physical independence, but for the future I had imagined. Continuing to pursue my career goals required confronting those emotions honestly rather than avoiding them. One of the first steps I took was allowing myself to reassess my path without abandoning my purpose. I realized that while the form of my career might change, my commitment to healthcare and service did not have to. I made the deliberate choice to continue my education rather than step away from it. That meant learning how to navigate disability accommodations, medical recovery, and academic planning simultaneously. It required advocating for myself in spaces I had never expected to be in and asking for support when independence was no longer possible. These were not easy steps, but they were necessary ones. Bravery also meant adapting my goals in a way that preserved meaning. Instead of seeing my injury as an endpoint, I reframed it as a redirection. I committed to pursuing nursing, a profession that allows for both clinical impact and adaptability. I focused on building skills that would support long-term success—critical thinking, communication, and patient advocacy—rather than measuring progress by physical capability alone. On a mental level, I learned to manage fear about the future by breaking goals into achievable steps. Continuing to apply for scholarships, planning coursework, and staying engaged with my professional aspirations became acts of resilience. Each small decision to keep going reinforced my belief that bravery is not a single moment, but a series of choices made daily. Audra Dominguez’s legacy of bravery resonates deeply with me. Her story reflects the strength it takes to persist in the face of adversity, even when outcomes are uncertain. I strive to embody that same courage by continuing to pursue my career aspirations with intention, adaptability, and resolve. Today, my goals remain rooted in healthcare and service. I am determined to build a career that allows me to support others during moments of vulnerability, informed by my own experiences navigating adversity. The steps I have taken—continuing my education, adapting my career path, and refusing to disengage from my purpose—represent my understanding of bravery. It is not about returning to who I was before adversity, but about moving forward with clarity, strength, and determination.

I am a low-income undergraduate student pursuing a career in healthcare, driven by a deep commitment to service and a belief that meaningful change often comes from showing up consistently for others. My desire to help the world is not rooted in abstract ideals, but in lived experience—both as someone who has relied on care and as someone who has worked to provide it. Growing up, I learned early the value of perseverance and responsibility. In my family, higher education and professional pathways were not clearly mapped, and financial stability was never guaranteed. That reality shaped how I approach my goals: intentionally, practically, and with an understanding that progress is earned through persistence. Those lessons became even more tangible when my life was interrupted by serious medical challenges. During high school, I underwent major spinal surgery to correct severe scoliosis, and several years later I sustained a spinal injury that permanently altered my mobility and independence. These experiences reshaped my understanding of what it means to care for others. Becoming a patient forced me to confront vulnerability, uncertainty, and dependence, while also showing me the profound impact healthcare professionals can have simply by being present, attentive, and compassionate. Later, working in patient-facing roles reinforced that care is not only about treatment—it is about dignity, advocacy, and trust. I plan to make a positive impact on the world through a career in nursing, where I can combine technical skill with empathy to support individuals during some of the most difficult moments of their lives. Healthcare is a field where small actions—clear communication, patience, reassurance—can have lasting effects. I am particularly motivated to serve low-income and underserved populations, who often face barriers to care that extend far beyond their medical needs. Being low-income has shaped my perspective on access. I understand how financial stress can delay care, complicate recovery, and limit opportunity. As a nurse, I want to be someone who recognizes those realities and works to bridge gaps rather than widen them. Whether through patient advocacy, education, or simply taking the time to listen, I hope to make healthcare feel more accessible and humane. Robert F. Lawson’s legacy reflects a life dedicated to service beyond obligation. His continued commitment to helping others after his military service speaks to the kind of impact I hope to have—one grounded in consistency, responsibility, and care for people who need it most. Helping others is not something I see as a temporary phase or résumé line; it is the foundation of the career I am building. This scholarship would provide critical support as I continue my education, easing financial strain and allowing me to remain focused on developing the skills and knowledge necessary to serve others effectively. More importantly, it would reinforce my ability to stay on a path defined by service, resilience, and purpose. I may not have the resources others take for granted, but I have clarity of intention. My goal is simple and enduring: to use my career to help people, improve lives, and contribute to a world where care is given freely, thoughtfully, and with respect.

Being a first-generation college student means navigating systems that were never explained to you and pursuing a path no one around you has walked before. In my family, higher education was not modeled or expected. One of my parents did not graduate high school and later earned a GED in midlife, and my older half brother left high school during his sophomore year and also pursued a GED later on. While these choices reflected resilience and perseverance, they also meant that when I began navigating college, there was no roadmap to follow. From the beginning, pursuing higher education required independence. There was no family blueprint for understanding applications, financial aid, degree planning, or long-term academic strategy. I learned how to research requirements, ask questions, and advocate for myself largely on my own. Being first-generation meant figuring things out through persistence and trial, while carrying the weight of wanting to make the effort worthwhile—not only for myself, but for my family as well. That responsibility became even heavier when my education was disrupted by serious medical challenges. During high school, I underwent major spinal surgery to correct severe scoliosis, and several years later I sustained a spinal injury that permanently altered my mobility and independence. These experiences added layers of complexity to an already unfamiliar college journey. Navigating disability accommodations, medical recovery, and academic planning simultaneously required resilience and adaptability I had not anticipated developing so early in life. Despite these challenges, my motivation to continue my education has remained clear. I am driven by the belief that education can change the trajectory of an entire family. I am pursuing a career in nursing, where I can combine technical knowledge, advocacy, and compassion to serve others during vulnerable moments. My experiences navigating systems without guidance have shaped my desire to become someone who helps others feel supported rather than overwhelmed—both in healthcare and beyond. Being first-generation has taught me resourcefulness, persistence, and self-direction. I have learned how to seek mentorship, build support networks from scratch, and keep moving forward even when progress feels uncertain. These skills have become just as important as academic achievement. This scholarship would make a meaningful difference by easing the financial burden of pursuing higher education without generational support. It would allow me to focus more fully on my studies and professional development, bringing me closer to my goal of becoming a nurse and building a future defined by service, stability, and impact. My journey as a first-generation student is not about perfection. It is about persistence. I am proud to be forging a new path—one built on determination, resilience, and the belief that education can open doors my family never had the opportunity to walk through before.

My motivation for pursuing advanced education in nursing comes from lived experience, professional exposure, and a deep commitment to patient advocacy. I have seen healthcare from multiple perspectives—as a patient, a caregiver, and a provider—and each role has reinforced my desire to continue my education and grow into a nurse who can make a meaningful, lasting impact. During high school, I underwent major spinal surgery to correct severe scoliosis, an experience that introduced me early to the realities of complex medical care. Years later, after pursuing emergency medical training and working in patient-facing roles, I sustained another spinal injury that permanently altered my mobility and ended my ability to continue working as a field emergency medical provider. Becoming a patient again as an adult reshaped my understanding of healthcare even further. I experienced firsthand how critical knowledgeable, compassionate nurses are—not only in managing clinical needs, but in guiding patients through fear, uncertainty, and life-altering change. Rather than turning me away from healthcare, these experiences clarified my purpose. They showed me that nursing offers a unique combination of clinical skill, adaptability, and patient advocacy. Nurses are often the constant in a system that can feel overwhelming, especially in emergency and high-acuity settings. That role resonates deeply with me. I am motivated to pursue advanced education so I can expand my scope of practice, strengthen my clinical judgment, and better serve patients during moments when care and clarity matter most. As an adult learner navigating disability and financial uncertainty, pursuing higher education requires intentional planning and perseverance. This scholarship would directly support my ability to remain focused on my studies rather than on financial strain. The cost of tuition, educational resources, and living expenses adds pressure that can distract from academic success. Receiving this scholarship would allow me to dedicate more energy to learning, clinical preparation, and professional development, ensuring that I can fully engage in my nursing education. Beyond financial support, this scholarship represents an investment in my growth as a healthcare professional. Organizations like Skin, Bones, Hearts & Private Parts emphasize continuing education and lifelong learning—values that align closely with my goals. I aspire to remain current in evidence-based practice, particularly in areas relevant to emergency and acute care, where conditions involving cardiology, orthopedics, pain management, and women’s health frequently intersect. Advanced education will allow me to provide more comprehensive, informed care while adapting to the evolving demands of modern healthcare. Ultimately, my goal is to use my education to advocate for patients who are vulnerable, frightened, or unable to advocate for themselves. I want to be a nurse who combines technical competence with empathy, and who understands the patient experience not just academically, but personally. This scholarship would help make that goal more attainable by easing financial barriers and reinforcing my ability to continue forward despite challenges. Pursuing advanced education is not simply a career move for me—it is a commitment to growth, service, and impact. With the support of this scholarship, I will be better equipped to fulfill that commitment and contribute meaningfully to the nursing profession.

My pursuit of nursing is deeply intentional, shaped by lived experience, perseverance, and a growing understanding of the role nurses play across every level of healthcare. Each step of my education has been driven by a commitment to serve others with skill, empathy, and consistency—values that closely reflect the legacy of Dashanna K. McNeil. My journey toward nursing began early, during high school, when I underwent major spinal surgery to correct severe scoliosis. That experience introduced me to healthcare from the patient’s perspective and showed me how profoundly nurses shape outcomes. Nurses were often the ones who noticed subtle changes, explained complex information, and provided reassurance during moments of fear. Their presence left a lasting impression on me and planted the foundation for my interest in nursing. After recovering, I pursued emergency medical training and worked in patient-facing roles, including emergency medical services and clinical care settings. These experiences strengthened my desire to remain in healthcare long-term and clarified why nursing, specifically, was the right path for me. Nurses are uniquely positioned to provide continuity, advocacy, and hands-on care while also growing into leadership and advanced practice roles. That versatility is what drew me to continue my education in nursing rather than step away after early clinical experience. My educational path has not been linear. After establishing myself in emergency medical services, I sustained a spinal injury that permanently altered my mobility and ended my ability to continue working as a field provider. Becoming a patient again—this time as an adult—was both devastating and clarifying. Losing independence and career momentum forced me to reevaluate how I could continue serving others in healthcare. Rather than abandoning my goals, I chose to adapt them. Continuing my education became not just a necessity, but a renewed commitment to nursing as a lifelong profession. I am currently pursuing nursing with the goal of working in emergency care, where adaptability, critical thinking, and patient advocacy are essential. Emergency nursing allows me to serve diverse populations during moments of crisis while applying both technical knowledge and compassionate care. My lived experience as both a patient and a provider has shaped the kind of nurse I aspire to be—one who communicates clearly, protects patient dignity, and advocates for those who may not be able to advocate for themselves. Long term, I plan to continue advancing my nursing education into advanced practice. I am particularly interested in roles that allow for both direct patient care and broader impact, including education, advocacy, and systems-level improvement. I am inspired by Dashanna K. McNeil’s dedication to lifelong learning and her commitment to uplifting future healthcare professionals. Her path demonstrates that nursing is not a static role, but a profession that grows alongside the nurse. Continuing my education in nursing is my way of honoring that legacy. I am committed to building a career grounded in service, resilience, and intentional growth—one that allows me to support patients, families, and future nurses with the same dedication that shaped my own journey.

My passion for nursing comes from lived experience on both sides of the healthcare system—as a patient navigating complex medical challenges and as a provider working in patient care. Through those experiences, I have learned that nursing is not only about clinical skill, but about presence, advocacy, and continuity during moments when patients feel most vulnerable. During high school, I underwent major spinal surgery to correct severe scoliosis. That experience introduced me early to the role nurses play in shaping a patient’s experience. The nurses who cared for me were often the ones who noticed subtle changes, explained procedures when fear set in, and provided reassurance when everything felt overwhelming. Their ability to combine technical competence with compassion left a lasting impression on me. Later, I pursued emergency medical training and worked in patient-facing roles, where I saw the same impact from the other side. In fast-paced, high-stress environments, nurses are often the constant—balancing urgency with empathy and ensuring that patients are treated with dignity even in chaos. Those experiences solidified my desire to pursue nursing as a long-term career. My path changed again after a spinal injury permanently altered my mobility and ended my career as a field emergency medical provider. Becoming a patient once more deepened my understanding of how much nurses influence not just outcomes, but trust and safety. Losing independence and certainty reinforced for me the importance of nurses who listen, advocate, and guide patients through moments they cannot navigate alone. I am passionate about nursing because it allows for sustained impact through consistent, compassionate care. I plan to pursue emergency nursing, where adaptability, critical thinking, and patient advocacy are essential. Emergency departments serve diverse populations and address a wide range of medical needs, including trauma, chronic illness exacerbations, and acute medical emergencies. While emergency nursing may include caring for obstetric or gynecologic emergencies, my focus is on providing comprehensive, patient-centered care to anyone who enters the department in crisis. In this setting, I hope to make an impact by being a steady, informed presence for patients and families during some of the most difficult moments of their lives. I want to be the nurse who communicates clearly, protects patient dignity, and advocates when patients cannot advocate for themselves. My lived experience as both a patient and a provider has shown me how much those actions matter. Long term, I hope to grow within the nursing profession into advanced practice, continuing to serve patients in high-acuity settings while advocating for accessible, inclusive care. Beverly J. Patterson’s legacy as a devoted nurse reflects the values that draw me to this profession: growth, service, and unwavering commitment to others. Nursing is a career that allows for continual learning while making a meaningful difference every day. Through emergency nursing, I hope to honor that legacy by providing skilled, compassionate care and by being present for patients when it matters most.

Service has never been something I viewed as separate from my daily life; it is how I make meaning of my experiences and how I connect with others. The way I give back today is deeply shaped by my own journey through healthcare, vulnerability, and resilience, and it continues to guide how I plan to serve the world in the future. One of the most meaningful ways I currently give back is through my long-term involvement as an ambassador for Higgy Bears, a nonprofit that donates inclusive stuffed animals to children’s hospitals. These bears are designed to reflect medical conditions such as scoliosis braces, visible spinal curves, or surgical scars—details that allow children facing medical challenges to see themselves represented with dignity and pride. My role involves supporting outreach efforts, advocating for inclusive representation in pediatric care, and helping ensure that children undergoing difficult treatments receive comfort that acknowledges their experiences rather than hiding them. This work is personal to me. Having undergone major spinal surgery during my own childhood and later experiencing further medical trauma, I understand how isolating it can feel to navigate illness or disability at a young age. Higgy Bears gives children something simple but powerful: the reassurance that they are not alone and that their bodies are worthy of care, softness, and acceptance. Supporting that mission allows me to give back in a way that is rooted in empathy rather than distance. In addition to Higgy Bears, my commitment to service extends to other forms of volunteering and community involvement, including work with organizations such as the Red Cross and local community programs. Across all of these roles, the common thread is consistency. Service is not something I engage in only when circumstances are easy; it is something I have continued even as my own life has changed, including adapting to disability. That consistency reflects my belief that service should be sustainable, accessible, and grounded in real human connection. Looking toward the future, I plan to expand my impact through a career in healthcare, where service becomes both my profession and my responsibility. I intend to work in patient-centered care settings where advocacy, compassion, and accessibility are essential. My experiences have shown me that meaningful change does not always come from grand gestures, but from showing up reliably, listening carefully, and meeting people where they are. I also hope to continue supporting nonprofit and community-based initiatives alongside my career, particularly those that focus on children, disability inclusion, and access to care. By combining clinical knowledge with ongoing service work, I want to help create systems that honor dignity and humanity at every stage of life. Priscilla Shireen Luke’s legacy of selfless service reflects the values I strive to live by: compassion, commitment, and hope for a better world built through care for others. Through both my current volunteer efforts and my future career, I am dedicated to continuing that legacy by serving consistently, thoughtfully, and with purpose.

My understanding of wellness has been shaped not by dramatic transformation, but by the quiet, daily work of recovery, adaptation, and sustainability. Through personal injury, disability, and years of working in patient care, I have learned that meaningful health improvements are rarely sudden. Instead, they come from small, consistent habits that respect human limits and make wellness attainable rather than idealized. During high school, I underwent major spinal surgery to correct severe scoliosis. Years later, after rebuilding my independence and working in emergency medical services, I sustained another spinal injury that permanently altered my mobility. Recovery was not linear, and wellness did not look like a complete return to who I had been before. Instead, it meant learning how to live well within new physical realities—through pacing, education, adaptive strategies, and realistic goal-setting. That experience fundamentally changed how I view health. As both a patient and a healthcare worker, I saw how often wellness advice fails because it is unrealistic. Patients are given plans they cannot maintain, and healthcare workers are encouraged to push beyond sustainable limits, leading to burnout. These experiences taught me that true wellness must be built around what people can realistically sustain, not what looks ideal on paper. Through my education in public health and healthcare administration, I plan to focus on designing care models and patient education that prioritize long-term success over short-term perfection. Small changes—clear communication, accessible instructions, gradual habit-building, and respect for individual limitations—can profoundly improve outcomes when practiced consistently. Wellness should feel achievable, not overwhelming. I am particularly passionate about improving access to wellness for disabled and chronically ill individuals, who are often excluded from traditional health narratives. Living with a disability has shown me how easily wellness programs overlook those who need them most. I intend to advocate for system-level changes that make wellness inclusive, adaptive, and grounded in real-life circumstances. Whether through policy, program design, or patient education, I want to help create systems that meet people where they are. Equally important to me is promoting sustainable wellness for healthcare workers. Having worked in high-stress environments, I understand how burnout undermines both personal health and patient care. I believe that fostering small, consistent habits—such as reasonable workloads, mental health support, and realistic expectations—can help healthcare professionals remain compassionate, effective, and present over the long term. Dr. Steve Aldana’s philosophy resonates deeply with my lived experience. His belief that meaningful change comes from integrity, empathy, education, and consistency reflects the lessons I have learned through adversity. Wellness does not require dramatic reinvention; it requires commitment to sustainable progress. Through my education and future career, I hope to continue Dr. Aldana’s mission by helping individuals, communities, and healthcare systems embrace wellness that is realistic, inclusive, and lasting. By prioritizing small, meaningful changes practiced every day, I aim to contribute to healthier lives built not on perfection, but on persistence.

My inspiration to pursue a career in the medical field did not come from a single moment, but from a series of experiences that repeatedly placed me on both sides of healthcare—as a patient, a caregiver, and a provider-in-training. Each role deepened my understanding of how profoundly medical professionals can shape a person’s life, especially during moments of fear, pain, and uncertainty. During high school, I underwent major spinal surgery to correct severe scoliosis. That experience was my first introduction to the vulnerability of being a patient. I learned what it feels like to place complete trust in a medical team and how small acts of compassion—clear explanations, reassurance, and presence—can make an overwhelming situation bearable. Those early encounters planted the idea that medicine was not just about treatment, but about humanity. After recovering, I pursued emergency medical training and began working in patient care. Emergency settings showed me medicine at its most intense: patients arriving without answers, families desperate for reassurance, and providers making rapid decisions under pressure. I was drawn to the pace and purpose of acute care, and I found meaning in being able to help people during the moments when they needed it most. Years later, my path changed suddenly when I sustained a spinal injury that permanently altered my mobility and ended my career as a field emergency medical provider. Overnight, I transitioned from caregiver to patient once again. Losing my job and independence was devastating, but it also gave me a deeper perspective. I experienced firsthand how systems can overlook disabled patients and how vital it is to have providers who advocate, listen, and treat patients as whole people rather than problems to be managed. Rather than pushing me away from medicine, these experiences clarified my purpose. Every time I have been a patient, my desire to become a provider has only strengthened. I know what it feels like to be scared, to feel powerless, and to depend on the competence and compassion of others. Those experiences have shaped the kind of medical professional I aspire to be. I plan to make a difference by advocating for patients who are vulnerable, disabled, or overlooked, particularly in high-stress environments like the emergency department. I want to be the provider I once needed—someone who delivers skilled care while also recognizing the emotional weight patients carry into the room. In fast-paced settings where it is easy to focus solely on symptoms, I aim to preserve dignity, communicate clearly, and ensure patients feel seen and respected. The legacy of Maxwell Tuan Nguyen honors individuals who are passionate about medicine and committed to making a difference. That legacy resonates deeply with me. My journey has taught me that medicine is not only about curing when possible, but about caring always. Through my career, I hope to combine clinical skill with empathy and advocacy, making a meaningful difference in the lives of patients when it matters most.

As an EMT, I learned quickly that emergency care extends beyond the patient alone. During one call, a family faced intense fear and confusion after their loved one was found unconscious and unresponsive to painful stimuli following their first roller coaster ride. There was a language barrier, and several family members were present, with others calling in for updates. I initiated the appropriate medical protocols and coordinated care with my partner and additional support to ensure the patient received timely treatment. Once those critical steps were underway, I shifted my focus to the family, recognizing that they were experiencing the situation just as intensely in a different way. I stayed with them and took the time to explain-using the most plain language possible—what was happening, why it was happening, and what would come next, including what the hospital might do. I slowed my pace intentionally, making sure each family member understood before moving on, even answering questions from relatives over the phone. By taking those few minutes to communicate calmly and clearly, their fear softened into understanding. By the end of our conversation, several family members expressed gratitude simply for being included and not left behind. That moment reminded me that service is often quiet and unseen, but deeply meaningful. That experience showed me that I was exactly where I was meant to be. The patient is always the priority, and initiating care will never come second—but that does not mean everything else disappears. In moments like this, family communication may fall just slightly below immediate medical needs, yet it remains essential. Supporting families does not detract from patient care; it strengthens it. Helping them feel informed and respected restores a sense of control during an otherwise overwhelming experience. That balance—protecting the patient while supporting the people who love them—reinforced my belief that true service considers the entire human experience surrounding care. Because of a disability, I am no longer able to continue working in EMS, but my commitment to healthcare and service has not changed. Instead, it has clarified my purpose. I plan to pursue a Doctor of Nursing Practice so I can continue serving people in a way that prioritizes not only the patient, but also the families and communities surrounding them. My experiences have taught me that effective care extends beyond immediate treatment—it includes communication, accessibility, and dignity for everyone involved. As a nurse practitioner, I intend to carry forward the same values that guided me in emergency care, adapting my role while remaining grounded in service to others during their most vulnerable moments.

The first time my family became my caregivers, I was in high school recovering from spinal surgery. Three years later, it happened again—this time after a spinal injury that abruptly ended my career as a field emergency medical provider. Those moments reshaped not only my life, but my understanding of medicine, family, and the responsibility healthcare providers carry. During high school, I underwent major spinal surgery to correct severe scoliosis. The experience challenged me physically and emotionally and introduced me early to vulnerability, trust, and recovery. I learned how dependent patients become on the skill and compassion of their care teams, and how deeply medical outcomes affect families alongside patients. Three years later, after rebuilding my independence and establishing myself in emergency medical services, my life changed again. A spinal injury left me disabled and unable to continue working in the field. Overnight, I lost my job and much of my physical independence. My family—who had only recently stepped out of the caregiver role—was suddenly forced to step back into it. Watching them shoulder that responsibility again profoundly affected me. It reinforced that healthcare events are never isolated; they ripple outward, reshaping family dynamics, emotional health, and daily life. Rather than distancing me from medicine, these experiences strengthened my commitment to it. Every time I have been the patient, my desire to become the provider has grown stronger. Being vulnerable, dependent, and uncertain allowed me to see the extraordinary impact clinicians have—not only in treating conditions, but in restoring dignity, confidence, and hope. Each encounter reinforced my resolve to be the person making a difference for patients and families during their most difficult moments. My background in emergency medical services further shaped this commitment. Working in acute care environments taught me the importance of calm under pressure, teamwork, and decisive clinical judgment. Losing my ability to continue as a field emergency medical provider was devastating, but it clarified my path forward. Rather than stepping away from healthcare, I am committed to advancing my role within it—toward emergency care settings where advocacy, clinical expertise, and compassion intersect. I am now living with a permanent disability, but I am unwavering in my determination to do whatever is necessary to earn the credentials that will allow me to continue serving patients at the highest level. These experiences have led me to pursue a career as a nurse practitioner in the emergency department. Emergency care aligns with my strengths and values, allowing me to provide immediate, patient-centered care while advocating for individuals during some of the most critical moments of their lives. I am especially motivated to serve underserved populations, who often rely on emergency departments as their primary point of access to healthcare. Matthew J. Kauffman’s legacy represents dedication, resilience, and the profound impact one provider can have over a lifetime of service. While my path leads toward advanced nursing practice rather than orthopedic surgery, the principle remains the same: skilled, compassionate care can change the trajectory of a person’s life. His career exemplifies the type of provider I strive to be—one who honors the trust patients place in them through excellence, empathy, and unwavering dedication. My life experiences have taught me that every encounter in healthcare matters. Each time I have been the patient, my commitment to becoming the provider has only grown stronger. I pursue this path with purpose, humility, and a deep commitment to making a meaningful difference in every patient’s life.

As a first-generation college student, I grew up understanding that nothing about my future would be handed to me. There was no family blueprint for higher education, no inherited knowledge about navigating setbacks, and no safety net to catch me if things went wrong. I learned early that perseverance would have to be learned, not modeled. That belief was put to the test in the most unexpected way. After a spinal cord injury, I entered inpatient rehabilitation facing a life I did not recognize. I was not only relearning how to move through the world physically—I was grieving the loss of the future I had built with discipline, sacrifice, and unwavering determination. Independence vanished overnight. Progress was slow, exhausting, and humbling. Some days, the effort required simply to show up felt heroic in itself. It was my inpatient rehab nurses who refused to let me see myself as defeated. They showed up every day with steady belief, even when mine wavered. They celebrated progress I was too tired or discouraged to acknowledge—small victories that, to me, felt insignificant but to them represented strength, resilience, and growth. When I failed, they encouraged me to try again. When I doubted myself, they reminded me that courage is not measured by speed or ease, but by persistence. They treated me not as fragile or broken, but as capable—long before I could see it myself. Through their care, I learned that heroism does not always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like choosing to stand again when everything hurts. Sometimes it looks like allowing others to believe in you until you can reclaim that belief for yourself. And sometimes, it looks like rebuilding your identity piece by piece, even when the future feels uncertain. As a first-generation student, this belief was life-changing. Without family mentors to guide me through higher education or adversity, I often questioned whether I truly belonged in academic spaces at all. My rehab nurses helped me rediscover something I had lost: faith in my own potential. They taught me that rebuilding is not a step backward—it is an act of strength. They showed me that potential does not disappear when life changes; it evolves. Their impact reshaped my ambitions and reaffirmed my purpose. I am committed to pursuing higher education and dedicating my future to service, accessibility, and advocacy. I move forward with the understanding that worth is not defined by physical ability, but by resilience, compassion, and the willingness to keep going when the path forward is unclear. Sharen and Mila Kohute represent the intersection of hard work and unrealized potential. Mila symbolizes the future that never had the chance to unfold, while Sharen embodies the perseverance required to pursue education despite hardship and loss. Because of the support I received during one of the most defining chapters of my life, I am determined to honor both. I will continue to pursue my education, defy limitations, and use my experiences to uplift others who are learning—sometimes for the first time—that their future is still worth building.

For much of my life, I believed strength meant handling everything alone. I was driven, independent, and tied my sense of worth to resilience and achievement. Mental health was something I thought I could push through if I tried hard enough. That belief began to unravel during high school, when I underwent major surgery to correct severe scoliosis. The physical recovery was difficult, but the emotional impact was just as significant. For the first time, I was forced to confront the reality that my body and mind had limits, and that my original aspirations might never be achievable. My mental health struggles deepened in early adulthood, triggered by medical trauma and compounded by silence. I struggled internally for years, including multiple suicide attempts, believing that admitting I was not okay meant I had failed. Over time, I learned to adapt. I rebuilt my sense of purpose and proved my former self wrong by pursuing rigorous emergency medical training and working in patient care. Serving others gave me meaning again, and for a while, things felt hopeful. Then, in September, my life changed once more when I sustained a spinal cord injury that left me wheelchair-dependent. Once again, I was confronted with the loss of a dream career and the need to redefine who I was and what my future could look like. Living through repeated identity loss profoundly impacted my beliefs about myself. At my lowest points, I believed I was broken, useless, a burden, and without a future. I believed that if I could not serve in the way I had envisioned, I had no value. These beliefs thrived in silence. Research shows that people with disabilities are two to four times more likely to experience suicidal thoughts than those without disabilities—not because disabled lives are less valuable, but because of stigma, isolation, loss of identity, and lack of accessible support. I have lived that reality. When mental health struggles and disability intersect, silence becomes even heavier. Today, I am still learning—but I hold different truths. My worth is not tied to my physical ability. Adaptation is not failure. Needing help does not erase strength. I can still serve, even if that service looks different than I once imagined. Each time my path was disrupted, I rebuilt—not because it was easy, but because survival demanded it. I am still here, still growing, still defying expectations. Never tell me the odds. My experiences have shaped my aspiration to pursue a doctorate in nursing and dedicate my career to making healthcare accessible to all, regardless of financial status. Living with a disability has also made me a strong advocate for accessibility and inclusive systems, particularly for those whose voices are often overlooked. Mental health struggles do not disappear when they are ignored; they grow heavier. I know firsthand how isolating silence can be. It is okay to not be okay. I have struggled in the past and still do to a degree, but I have learned that there is hope and there is help. We are not alone. Speaking up, reaching out, and leaning on those who care can be life-saving acts. In honoring Ethel Hayes and the legacy her life left behind, I believe destigmatizing mental health begins with honest conversations—about suffering, survival, and the courage it takes to speak when silence feels safer. My path has changed more than once, but my purpose remains unchanged: to serve, to advocate, and to keep moving forward—no matter the odds.

To start off, my Barbie dream house is located in my home state, Ohio. While I adore and cherish sunny and sandy beaches, palm trees, and hot weather, I adore and cherish my family even more. The exact location in Ohio, would have to be near Toledo. This is because it is near the college I will be attending. I want to live near my college but not at home because on campus housing was out of my budget because my family is unable to assist me in paying for college. However, I really want to experience the traditional college feel and live on my own. As for the aesthetic of my Barbie Dream House. I would like to go very goth just because of the irony. Just kidding! I would definitely have to chose the standard-pink Barbie aesthetic because it is so unique and would definitely stand out amount other houses in the area. It is only a Dream House after all…so let’s throw in a pool and hot tub! The fabulous feature of my Barbie Dream House include a very large kitchen so that I can have all of my friends and family over to cook delicious meals for. An in home movie theater is a must so that I can watch my favorites on repeat. Also, an indoor Pool for when it’s too cold out to use the outdoor one. You know what? Let’s get wave runners for the pools as well! Last but definitely not least, my Barbie Dream House would have my my great grandfather. As I hear ready to attend college, I wish he was still here to watch me graduate and take on the world.

Bent not broken Laying on the operating table in the fridged and bright room, tears falling down my face faster than the speed of light. I am told to keep breathing. But my breaths are shallow and staggered. I was terrified, because my life would be forever changed. Before I know it, I attempt to fight the sleep, but the medicine overtakes me. I was diagnosed with scoliosis in early 2021. Scoliosis is unnatural, sideways curvature of the spine. At first, I had no worries, insecurities, or confusion about my condition. My pediatrician stated that there would never be a need for surgery since I was already a teenager and the likelihood of cure progression was almost none. All was well until I visited an orthopedic surgeon, just months after the initial diagnosis. “We’ll keep a close eye on the spinal curve, then make a decision from there” said the surgeon. Not even a year later, I was being scheduled for spinal fusion surgery to correct what was now severe scoliosis. Around the time of scheduling my spine surgery is when I came across a very special website. “Higgy Bears…making scoliosis more BEARable.” As soon as I saw the stuffed animals that were fitted with a scoliosis brace, visible spinal curve, or spinal fusion rods, I knew I had to have ALL of them. I places my first order and once it came, I received a ton of extras in my package. One of the most notable extras was a handwritten letter from the founder, Lauren Higginson. Lauren also has scoliosis and underwent spinal fusion. An additional letter in my package gave information about Lauren’s HiggyBear Ambassador Program. I immediately reached out to her and was given a spot on her ambassador team! Lauren regularly speaks with and supports her ambassadors. I would regularly ask Lauren questions about scoliosis and about spinal fusion and what to expect with my upcoming surgery. I decided to start my own HiggyBear Fundraiser, now that I was an ambassador. The goal of my fundraiser was to collect donations so that I could purchase and donate tons of HiggyBears to for the children’s hospital that I would be having my surgery at. My fundraiser was a hit! I even made the local news for a live interview just a week prior to my spine surgery. Prior to my surgery, I was not self-conscious about my scoliosis. I didn’t necessarily feel different since my abnormalities were hidden inside of my body. However, after my surgery, I was extremely self-conscious and emotionally damaged. My abnormalities were highlighted due to the 28 inch scar that the surgery had left behind. Nonetheless, Lauren was there for me after my surgery just as she was before. Except this time, the whole scoliosis community had my back (pun intended) Lauren helped me to see that I am I am more than my disability. I am more than 2 rods and 20 screws. I am more than my diagnosis. I am more than scoliosis. Lauren helped me overcome my fears and adapt to my new life as a scoliosis warrior. Laren helped me to realize that I am bent, not broken.