As a kid, I was scared of my grandmother. My parents would tell me to go to another room when she came to our house or walk around downtown Hartford, and my parents would tell me not to listen. I remember how much my dad pleaded for her to get help; my dad brought her to a nursing home one day. When I first heard of schizophrenia, my grandma was diagnosed with it. I didn't know what it was, but all I know is that the nurses took care of her and gave her medication. As the years went by, the scary image of my grandma was no longer there. She was kind, constantly calling me "Rosita" and holding her arms out for a hug. She called my father "Carlito." But we later found out she had Alzheimer's; my father would take me to visit her every week in hopes that she'd remember us for as long as possible. When I became a teenager, my grandmother couldn't recognize my father or me, and she could barely see me. She was diagnosed with Glaucoma in both eyes. Every time I visited her, I would ask her how old I was, and she would always say "12." The last time I asked her that question, I was 16. Even though my father wouldn't admit it, I knew her conditions were worsening, and we couldn't do anything about it. When the pandemic hit, we couldn't visit her anymore. The nurses, staff, and social workers would mail us every week to tell us how she was doing and if she was safe. They tried everything they could to ensure her health and let us talk to her. It started with the occasional calls to my grandma and later became a nursing home visit. We weren't allowed inside. They would slightly open the window and bring my grandma in a wheelchair while we were 6 feet away from the window. That's when I noticed how badly my grandma's condition worsened. I couldn't recognize her. She was skinny, and her hair was completely white and slightly balding. She couldn't walk or see anymore. That was the first time I saw my father cry like that. He tried to hide it and smiled through his tears. He wiped his tears off with his hat and talked to her like always. Asking her what she wanted to eat so he could bring it to her, it always ended up being fruit regardless, and he asked her if she could see him. Later that year, she passed away. We went to the hospital to find out she died 20 minutes before we got there. They let us in the room, and we saw her. My dad cried while asking, "you're gonna wake up right?"... "mom?" The nurse brought us tissues and assured us they did everything they could do to save her, and they comforted us. I want to be what those nurses were to my grandma and my family; they gave us time to be with her and talk to her. They saved her, from a scary woman to a kind woman I always visited with my father. I hope to use my college experience to give somebody else that opportunity or comfort. I want to be that positive impact that other workers in the medical field were on me, for others. That's what I wish to accomplish with STEM by saving the futures and lives of families.