I am a non-traditional nursing student. Although I am not a member of a minority group, I live in a very rural, underserved area in Northeast Missouri. Many of our local hospitals are at risk of closing, and most cannot provide services patients will almost inevitably need over the course of their lives, such as obstetric care and cancer treatment. Three years ago, my father was diagnosed with cancer in the back of his tongue. At the time, I was staying at home with my five children on our farm, where we raise cattle and sheep. Even though I was homeschooling my four oldest children and my youngest was only four years old, I became an integral part of my father's care as he battled cancer. Since there are no local options for cancer treatment, my parents had to take a four-hour round trip to the nearest hospital for scans, chemotherapy, and radiation. He did this often. After the first few trips, I realized that these long days were taking a great physical toll on my mother as well as my sick dad, and I became their chauffeur. That put me in a position to identify the need for someone with a clear head to take notes and ask good questions during his appointments; although my mom was an LPN for ten years, she was in shock and not much help. So I became the one who provided transportation, took notes, asked questions, and communicated everything to my three siblings. His cancer proved more aggressive than initially thought. A few months into his treatment, and after radical surgery to remove the tumor, his doctors told us that the chemo and radiation weren't working, and that there were few other options. They gave him one to two years to live, if a certain test result revealed that he had a specific protein that might allow another treatment option. Even though this test was positive, the treatment was not effective. I remember reporting to my siblings on a video call that the good news was that, even though he was terminal, his doctors estimated that we would still have another year, maybe two, with him. But they were wrong. He deteriorated quickly and was gone in a couple of months. Previous to my father's illness, I had become a Hospice volunteer. I would sit with two patients, both elderly women, and just talk with them, tell them stories, listen to theirs, hold their hands. In the short months that I was with them, they both improved enough to "graduate off" of Hospice and were upgraded to "chronic" instead of "terminal". I believe this is a testament to the power of human connection, and what happens when someone sees you as a person with dignity, even if you're stuck in a nursing home and have nothing "productive" to offer anymore. But all the talking and hand-holding in the world would not save my father. After he was told he had maybe 2 months to live and to get on Hospice as soon as he could, it was clear that my mother needed round-the-clock support to care for him. My sisters and I took turns spending the night so that my mother could get some rest. I was at their house, cooking, cleaning, bandaging my dad's wounds, and administering his medication more than I was at my own. But the peace it provided my mother, and the comfort it gave to my dad, were more than worth it. These experiences inspired me to be a provider whose care is always dignified, personal, and compassionate.

I am a non-traditional nursing student returning to college after staying home with five children for 18 years. I live in rural northeast Missouri in an area with a high proportion of low-income families, limited career opportunities, and scare services for vulnerable populations. Many of our local hospitals are at risk of shutting down and most alreay do not offer the care that virtually all of the local residents will need at some point in their lives, including obstetrical care and cancer treatment. Regardless of the growing need for affordable housing, improved access to healthy food, and mental health support, my area has very few resources for those who need them most. This has resulted in an increase in unhoused and food-insecure individuals with no easy or reliable ways to find the help they need. Missouri is a state that struggles with methamphetamine addiction, and there are many in my area who try to get sober and clean but who do not have the support necessary for success. Currently, the vast majority of programs in place to aid these individuals is two hours away, and it goes without saying that if a person do not have basic housing and food, they likely do not have access to transportation to get there. There are a handful of citizens who are working to change this dire situation already, but without financial support not much can happen. When I graduate with my nursing degree, my plan is to play a more impactful role in the effort to provide much-needed services to the vulnerable populations in my local communities, such as addicts, recovering addicts, those with mental instability struggles, the elderly, and those living in poverty. I plan to do this in a variety of ways. To begin with, I will provide compassionate, nonjudgmental, high-quality health care to every patient, because I have a deep-seeded belief that every person is worthy of love, respect, and dignity, regardless of their situation. In addition to providing direct care, I plan to use my income to help set up the housing opportunities that are already in the works, and perhaps even open my own with my husband, who is a gifted contractor and can literally build houses. Working with vulnerable populations in a healthcare setting will position me to identify unique needs, and connect people with resources that will provide them with meaningful long-term improvements to their quality of life. Poverty, unfortunately, is a major predictor of a plethora of ills. Lifting people out of poverty by supporting them with resources or relationships according to their unique needs is the community resource that I want to build.

Being a first-generation college student has forged in me a sense of confidence and hope. I come from a very rural area in Missouri where college degrees are fairly scarce, and many high schoolers immediately go to work on their parents' farms after graduation, if they make it that far. I, too, was under the impression as I was growing up that my options were limited, that college was out of reach, and that I would probably stick around and work for the phone company. But I went for it anyway, and learned the value of a liberal arts education. The blessings and personal improvement that come with a college education cannot be overstated, and I know that I am a better person because of it. I have seen monumental changes in myself, all for the better. I am better able to see problems from a wide variety of points of view. I am able to think much more critically about issues that I was taught, during my conservative religious upbringing, were cut-and-dry, with clear answers. I am more able to identify and communicate with those who hold drastically different political opinions than mine. I am also better able to learn from history, and less easily deceived or frightened. These are personal improvements that I wish for everyone, particularly my own family. I am pursuing a bachelor's degree in nursing from a four-year university. Because I still live in the area where I grew up, I will be serving small communities with limited access to healthcare. But as a nurse, I will have a good and steady income, and many more options than a high school graduate. I will also be in a position to provide education and insight to those whose lives will never be directed by a formal education. My long-term goals include learning to invest money and helping my own children go to college without graduating with heavy debt loads. I am active in my community, and I hope to work with others who are passionate about education and improving one's quality of life to open housing options for people who struggle with housing, addiction, mental health problems, and other obstacles to good health and well-being. There are currently very few resources in my area for this, regardless of the fact that there is a sizeable and growing need. I have always had a strong sense of social justice and compassion for vulnerable populations, from addicts to immigrants and the elderly. My long-term goals include making sweeping changes to our local towns to provide more resources for the underserved among us. I believe a degree in nursing will provide me with the ability and opportunity to provide high-quality, compassionate treatment for those who need it most.

I come from a military family. My father had a very successful 22-year-long career in the US Navy. He was an E-9 master chief. Long after his retirement, I saw men snap to attention and salute him when he showed his government ID card, and I was so proud of him. I am the youngest of six, and although I was very young when he retired and didn't know him during the height of his alcoholism, his struggle with sobriety shaped my family in ways that affect us to this day, even now that he has passed. During most of my father's naval career, he was on an aircraft carrier on the other side of the world for six months at a time. During those tours, my mother was at home to raise my siblings and me by herself, working at the commissary for extra money. For many years, during the times he was home, after working his desk job for the Navy, he worked a night shift as a security guard at a local company. While my father was never a violent man, he also wasn't a present husband or father. It was easy for my mother to assume that the reason was that that is what his father modeled for him when he was a child. She counted herself lucky and grateful because his father also modeled domestic violence, and that was a legacy my father would end. However, his father had also modeled binge drinking. The binge drinking didn't happen at home. It happened in the hour he had between his Navy desk job and his security guard job. Instead of coming home to his family during that hour, visiting with his wife and playing with his children, he chose to go to the bar with friends and drink as much as he could. My mother wasn't aware of this until it had been happening for a few years. She was intensely hurt and insulted, not feeling that she was as important to him as beer. It happened when his ship landed in ports all over the world. It would lead to an illicit affair that my mother would not discover until decades later, one that would cast a very long, dense shadow over his marriage for the rest of his life. Because of this example, my brother struggled with alcohol during his early career in the US Army. Consequently, his own sons have also struggled with alcohol addiction. His absence from home and neglect of my mother led to my oldest sister's obsession with seeking approval from men (it would be dishonest to claim that I do not struggle with this, too), causing her to marry an alcoholic who was physically, emotionally, and mentally abusive to her. Those patterns have been passed to her son, my nephew, who was always afraid he was going to "turn into his father"--until he did, and blamed everyone else when his marriage fell apart. My sister and nephew have abandoned our family, and I believe it is reasonable that my father's alcoholism and behavior toward his family are indirectly to blame. Because of my experiences with the destruction that alcoholism can wreak on a family, I believe that, as a registered nurse, I will be more capable of spotting patterns and educating my patients on the more nuanced consequences that alcohol and drug abuse have on families from generation to generation. I also deeply believe in the value and dignity of every person, and that addicts are just as worthy of love, respect, and compassion as the rest of us.

I have a heart for underserved and vulnerable populations, from addicts to immigrants and the elderly. Having been raised in a rural area with a methamphetamine problem, I see the effects that drug addiction has on families and communities. I am a non-traditional student with five children, four of whom are still in the public school system, one of whom has graduated. All of my children have friends with drug- or alcohol-addicted parents, and all have insight into life as a kid with addicted parents. My teenagers also have peers who struggle with addiction. We try to help and support these kids as much as we can by opening our home to them as a safe place whenever they need it. I have gone back to school for a Bachelor's degree in nursing. When I graduate, I will be a registered nurse. My rural area does not have many treatment options for addicts. As a registered nurse, I will be in an excellent position to help and encourage those in my community who struggle with addiction by advocating for those in need of treatment and providing them with quality, compassionate healthcare that sees them as real, worthy people in need of support, rather than an issue to be dealt with or a problem to be eliminated. I am appalled at the idea that addicts "choose to live that way", or "don't really care about their families", or any of the other ignorant claims that are commonly made by people who have never been unlucky enough to struggle. I see people who struggle with addiction as complex combinations of genetics, environment, experiences, and personal struggles, just as the rest of us are. I do not see them as willing orchestrators of their own misery. And I do not give credence to that opinion; given the chance, I do not believe anyone would choose a lifestyle that negatively affects their health, mental stability, and relationships. I do not think those who have yet to be directly affected by addiction have an accurate understanding of just how close most Americans are to poverty, homelessness, loss, and other circumstances that often lead to addiction. I also do not believe they have a proper appreciation for not having drug-addicted parents or coming from homes that weren't plagued in one way or another by addiction. Addiction is serious, but it is not the defining characteristic of a person. It is important to help those who struggle with addiction because they are people who are exactly as worthy of love, respect, and dignity as those who do not struggle, and they have a right to treatment that will allow them to make better choices, overcome their struggles, and lead happy, healthy lives. My career will allow me to provide quality care that honors the dignity of the person, no matter what their situation may be, or the path that led them there.