My time working as a Gift of Life volunteer solidified my passion for becoming an oncologist. As a GOL volunteer, I worked with brave individuals battling blood cancer through advocation seminars & blood donation drives, but my most impactful memory was with our patient Rose. Rose was a young African American mother & ICU nurse. Because of Rose’s race & ethnicity, she had only a 25% chance of finding a bone marrow match. I had held weekly drives to search for potential donors for Rose; however, I had never met Rose until one of my last bone marrow drives at my university. She came in with her flower-bedazzled head scarf & bright smile that lit up the room with joy. Rose came over to me and hugged me immediately. I embraced her back & even though I had never met her, at that moment, it felt like we had known each other for a lifetime. She thanked me for the work I had been doing on her behalf. Through my small act of service, I instilled hope and peace into Rose’s life. The need for science professionals & physicians, especially females, who specialize in cancer is urgent. Unfortunately, the low bone marrow match rate is still alive as you read this. As a future leader in STEM, I plan to use this scholarship money to further my education toward a D.O. or M.D. / Ph. D. degree. In addition, I plan to use my background at Gift of Life and my years in research to further advance the cancer research field and hopefully find alternative treatments to stand up to cancer.

Perseverance is continuing toward your dreams and aspirations in the face of adversity and learning from unexpected scenarios in life. My first exposure to medicine was through my grandfather, Baba Joon. I loved being around my grandfather. His vivacious attitude and overwhelming spirit kept me afloat. Baba Joon was one of the few general physicians in Kermanshah, a small city in Iran, which meant he was the region’s guardian. My grandfather loved taking me around the city, especially when visiting patients. One October afternoon, we drove into what seemed like an abandoned shack. The white satin paint was dusted with mud as it slowly chipped off the corners, the reminisce of what appeared to be roses remained on the dead bushes, and the hinges off of the door were almost ripped apart in two. Inside, my grandfather and I discovered a beautiful family. The father and mother were cradling their ill son. As soon as they spotted us, they thanked my grandfather as he flashed them a sympathetic smile. As he took their son for treatment, my grandfather whispered to me, “Stay here with the mom and dad.” I slowly whipped around the side and hugged both parents as tears filled their eyes. As I fetched them some tea, they began to explain how they’d been struggling with their son’s unknown illness and lacked the proper funds to acquire adequate treatment. We bonded over the difficulty of English grammar and our love for the piano. Toward the end of my visit, I could sense safety in their eyes. They felt comfortable enough to trust me with their story, and at that moment, I also felt a sense of purpose in my life journey. As I continued through all spans of life, I was laser-focused on becoming a physician. I checked all the necessary boxes to be put on medical schools’ radars. Good grades? Check. Volunteer hours? Check. Clinical experience? Check. Everything in my life revolved around becoming the perfect paper candidate for medical school for 6 years. So, after I submitted my initial application for medical school, I believed I was a shoo-in. The months passed by, and still no word from medical schools. I was flabbergasted when I received my endless medical school rejection letters. My rejection from medical school was a punch in the gut. I felt like all my efforts were worthless. With great hesitancy, I pursued a gap year in my education. Initially, I saw my gap year as nothing more than the gateway to achieving my goals, but I soon realized that this year away from academia provided so much more. My gap year made me realize that pursuing medicine is not about being a carbon copy of what you think is expected of you. Instead, pursuing medicine is about passion, dedication, and balance in your personal life. To overcome my failure, I have begun to step outside of my comfort zone and integrate a world of experience with a world of medicine. As a result, I pursued a Master of Public Health while simultaneously traveling abroad, gaining research publications, starting my own E-commerce business, obtaining my Audiology Assistant license, and more. Perseverance ultimately allowed me to appreciate setbacks in life and understand that every journey is a lesson.

Thank you to Annabell Attoh Thompson for this inspiring opportunity to share my story. To me, legacy means embracing your family history and developing that history in a new light, and my legacy begins with my grandfather. I loved being around my grandfather, Baba Joon. His vivacious attitude and overwhelming spirit kept me afloat. Baba Joon was one of the few general physicians in Kermanshah, a small city in Iran, which meant he was the region’s guardian. My grandfather loved taking me around the city, especially when visiting patients. One October afternoon, we drove into what seemed like an abandoned shack. The white satin paint was dusted with mud as it slowly chipped off the corners, the reminisce of what appeared to be roses remained on the dead bushes, and the hinges off of the door were almost ripped apart in two. Inside, my grandfather and I discovered a beautiful family. The father and mother were cradling their ill son. As soon as they spotted us, they thanked my grandfather as he flashed them a sympathetic smile. As he took their son for treatment, my grandfather whispered to me, “Stay here with the mom and dad.” I slowly whipped around the side and hugged both parents as tears filled their eyes. As I fetched them some tea, they began to explain how they’d been struggling with their son’s unknown illness and lacked the proper funds to acquire adequate treatment. We bonded over the difficulty of English grammar and our love for the piano. Toward the end of my visit, I could sense safety in their eyes. They felt comfortable enough to trust me with their story, and at that moment, I also felt a sense of purpose in my life journey. This experience gifted to me by my grandfather inspired me to continue our family legacy in medicine. Baba Joon taught me that medicine is more than knowledge and competency in the field. Medicine is about compassion and kindness. It is about connecting with your community and building a sense of trust that will act as the foundation of those blossoming relationships. I plan to continue our legacy by becoming a physician myself. Like my Baba Joon, I want to be the guardian of vulnerable populations. As a physician, I plan to focus my care on underserved areas that have been overlooked by the medical community. I am proud to say that my legacy is in the works, as I have been accepted to Kansas City University, where I will achieve my medical degree and become a caring, compassionate, and competent physician, just like my grandfather was.

It has been foreseen that medicine is in rapid evolution, but the development of medicine has never been so prone to transformative change as it is now. Virtual reality technology is at the forefront of the shift in medicine. Virtual reality technology allows medical programs to minimize the use of human cadavers in medical training and can be used as a communication tool between our society and medical professionals. Unfortunately, we have a severe shortage of human cadavers for medical students. As the need and demand for doctors increase, we see the possibility of interjecting less competent physicians into the work field. VR can combat this by creating reusable cadaver models for our future physicians to learn the anatomy of the human body. VR takes dissection a step forward and can repeatedly explain the function of each organ, muscle, and tissue to students. Also, virtual reality headset labs can be available for students at any time of day, as it does not need preparatory work, minimizing the schedule barrier many medical students face. Additionally, VR systems can be integrated even deeper into medicine when interacting with patients. For example, suppose a patient has been diagnosed with a critical illness. In that case, VR can elaborate visually on what the surgery/procedures will contain for treating this illness and even what rehabilitation would look like. This new form of transparency will rebuild the foundation of trust between society and the medical field we lack nowadays. Virtual reality technology will change the foundation of medicine as we know it. My grandfather was a physician himself, and before he passed, I remember he always used to tell me that medicine in the future would be incomparable to what medicine is today, and I see his words reign true. With the virtual reality systems we have now, we can ensure that our physicians are thoroughly trained and overqualified when going out to practice medicine. The integration of VR will make the world a better place by creating more knowledgeable, competent physicians and rebuilding trust in our healthcare system.

What if I told you I could build you a heart? Grow the organ from little to nothing and create it into a fully functioning organ, then implant it into a recipient in need. This process was completed in 2009 with the first human trachea developed from stem cells and implanted into a human being! Imagine what this can do for the longevity of the human race. Pediatric patients with immature organs could have a fighting chance at survival. Patients needing kidneys, lungs, and liver transplants would not have to rely on donor systems and lists that are often too late for arrival. To achieve this long-term goal, we need to understand the biology of human stem cells and engineer new tactics to create an affordable, reliable and valid organ generation and delivery system. Human stem cells display plasticity for a short time. Cell plasticity is cells' ability to be shaped or molded into different cell types. For example, if we were to regenerate a human kidney, we would need specialized renal cells to incubate this organ. Harvesting stem cells prove to be a physical and ethical challenge; however, the incorporation of jellyfish may be the barrier we need to derive these elusive stem cells. The Turritopsis dohrnii, the medusa jellyfish, is an "immortal" jellyfish. They have stem cells that could be genetically manipulated and formulated into an implantable human organ. There are two potential concepts to employ to study these magnificent creatures. The first concept I plan to employ is to create a sustainable ecological jellyfish farm where the medusa jellyfish can be grown, and their cells can be harvested without causing harm to the species. In past centuries, dozens of species, such as the Harelip Sucker, have gone extinct due to overfishing. Creating separate aqua farms where a controlled amount of jellyfish can be raised and maintained is the most effective way to push science forward and protect our habitat simultaneously. The second concept I hope to employ is something I had thought of as a solution to the dilemma of "what will these cells turn into?". To morph the stem cells into the types of cells we want, we have to provide them with queues to begin turning into the desired building blocks. I had thought to create stencils that, when harvested with the proper stem cells, will turn the cells into any cell of your choosing. The stencils will indicate to the new cells which path to develop. Overall, our universe is so complex, yet the sciences have had the capability of breaking barriers. If we take the time to delve into the nature of human biology and the stem cell, we will have the power to change the structure of our universe forever.

Writing is my power. In a world filled with division and scrutiny, words strewn together on a page can transport you to bliss. When I write, I can immerse myself into 1816 London, England, or I can time travel to 3045, where humanity resides in outer space on automated jets. Writing allows me to manipulate different worlds, and sometimes that is what I crave. As a 21st-century higher education student, an unlimited amount of pressure is considered commonplace. So on an average Tuesday, I could feel bombarded by anxiety that presents itself as a 16-wheeler Mack truck averaging one hundred miles an hour. Or perhaps I could find myself unable to breathe, feeling like my lung is punctured by sharp sewing needles. To be blunt, it is agony. Before I understood the role writing played in my life, I tried numerous ways to quell my anxiety. I listened to wellness podcast after wellness podcast, meditated, and even became a vegan, to no avail. But unfortunately, these foolproof tools to beat anxiety were very much not foolproof. I recall one evening, I had woken up from a night terror. Caressing my bed, I felt like I had just been baptized. The sweat drenched my newly cleaned cotton sheets, and I began to cry. As the tears ran down my face, I wobbled over to my desk and sat down. A piece of paper and a marker lay in front of me. Without conscious thought, I picked up the orange Crayola marker and began scribbling away on the scrap paper. In the night's darkness, I wrote until my wrist and hand began to cramp. It was at this moment that I felt freedom. My ribcage expanded as it filled with the first deep breath I had been able to take in months. My tears soon dried, and my face curled into a smile. I had found my foolproof tool. Whenever I was faced with the burden of anxiety, I turned to my trusted notepad and orange Crayola marker. In the stories I wrote, I realized I had personified my anxiety and defeated it. It was a way to visualize my emotions and acknowledge their validity but not allow it to overpower my strength. Writing has taught me the power of language and the beauty of storytelling. Personally, writing is important to me because I can feel powerful in times where I am prone to succumb to my anxieties.

My grandmother, Fati Dilmaghani, took her life in 2019. A woman who showed me nothing but love and compassion, which emanated brightness, succumbed to her depression. I was devastated. I struggled with the loss of my grandmother, but more so, I struggled with the fact that she was battling depression. She was suffering in silence, and I was oblivious to her illness. I felt guilty as the years passed on. How could I not have recognized the signs? I replayed our conversations to see if I could identify a moment where her depression was exposed, yet nothing came to mind. The loss of my grandmother was soon followed by the infamous COVID-19 pandemic. As the world shut down, I became isolated physically and mentally. The negative self-talk raged in my mind as I shamed myself for not supporting my grandma. As a middle-eastern woman, I felt that speaking about my struggles was not appropriate, so I continued to seclude myself. I slowly started neglecting my school work; I was no longer talking to friends or family, and I even stopped caring for my puppy, Mushu. As the months went on, this crippling cycle continued. It wasn't until a phone conversation with my best friend, Vanessa, that I decided I needed to speak up about my mental health. Vanessa and I were chatting about our usual lockdown schedules, how school was going, etcetera, and as we were about to hang up, she asked me, "Mish, how are you feeling? You know, mentally?" That question made me realize that I was struggling in silence, just like my grandmother. So I decided to use my school's online mental health counseling center that day. Through there, I was paired with psychology students and a licensed mental health counselor. By speaking up about my grief and anxieties, I realized there was so much pain and hurt that I hadn't acknowledged before. My experience with my mental health is why I want to become a physician. Mental health is so important, yet so overlooked. As a society, if we believe the issue is not visible, then there is no issue, but that could not be further from the truth. As a physician, I hope to specialize in a primary care field, such as psychiatry, to raise awareness and destigmatize mental health. I want to become part of the solution that fixes our broken system. Through my own experience with mental health, I now understand mental health does not discriminate. It can affect all individuals from all backgrounds, and to address this mental health epidemic, we need to speak up and talk about our struggles. My mental health experience has shaped how I handle relationships because I realize that we must constantly check in with our loved ones, just like Vanessa checked in with me. Unfortunately, our family and friends struggling with mental health may not have the courage or strength to reach out first. Asking a simple question could be the catalyst for identifying the need for mental health support.

First off, I would like to thank Ben Schneider and the bold.org team for allowing me to share my story. The majority of society would say they want peace in their community, country, and world, but I crave togetherness more than that. I want to see people unite in their similar pursuits and fight for what they believe. As you read this today, there is political upheaval in my home country of Iran. Men, women, and children are being slaughtered and imprisoned by the Islamic regime for advocating for their freedom. While this pained me, nothing pained me more when I heard my uncle, Arash, became a victim of this horrendous regime. He protested for our family's freedom, and he was imprisoned. Feeling helpless is an understatement. Being thousands of miles away, what could I do to fight alongside my family? I decided to gather my friends, family, and community members. I planned a freedom march right here in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. My hope for turnout was low as I felt I needed a broader audience to reach, but regardless, all thirteen of us showed up in downtown Fort Lauderdale, ready to make our voices heard. We chanted, "Women, life, freedom!" repeatedly. Then, finally, people started to take notice. I saw iPhones flipped out and car horns honked as they drove past us. Then, to my surprise, more and more people started showing up to rally alongside us. People from all different backgrounds standing together and supporting freedom & equality. It was a feeling of hope that began to glimmer inside me. Every week I hold rallies that I post on social media to advocate for human rights and equality, and every week I see that togetherness will reign supreme as long as we continue to speak up for what we believe.

As an aspiring physician, competition in the field of pre-medicine is brutal. In my experience, I've found pre-med students to be more cut-throat than Gordon Ramsay in an episode of Hell's Kitchen. Unfortunately, this environment primed me to be just as competitive, but I soon discovered it would be detrimental. During my junior year in college, I was on the path to becoming a physician. I was on track to graduate Summa Cum Laude, and I had created a balance between my academic and personal life. It was the day of our Biochemistry mid-term. After walking out of the gigantic lecture hall, I huddle amongst my classmates to discuss the exam. While discussing the exam, many of my classmates began to mention other extracurriculars they were accomplishing before medical school applications were due. I found my peers applying for medical jobs, taking on long-term volunteering projects, and even publishing research papers. Immediately, my heart sank. I began to feel inadequate. Impulsively, I decided to become a teaching assistant, work an additional part-time job, and apply for a position in a research lab. Two months after taking on all these extracurricular activities, I found myself eating extremely unhealthy, sparing no time for friends and family, and dropping into a significant depression. I was overwhelmed and overworked. It wasn't until a weekend spent with my family that my mom noticed a drastic change in my appearance. As soon as my mom mentioned this, I broke down under stress. I cried and cried for hours, feeling like I had failed myself. I thought that I could never become a doctor. This moment sparked a massive change for me, one that I am forever grateful for, because that very next day, I decided to go to my school's free mental health and counseling center. I spoke with a licensed psychologist and attended group therapy. I quickly realized that many other students were going through the same dilemma. I was now part of a fast-growing community where students could be free to talk about the struggles of academia and a community where people understood the daily pressures of a pre-med. After discovering the mental health and counseling center, I created constructive friendships rather than volatile and competitive ones. After counseling, my friends and I would attend our school's personal gym and play volleyball together. We would also find time to grocery shop and meal prep together, creating healthy meals that fit our budget and lifestyle. Whenever that feeling of inadequacy resurged, I now had access to a team of licensed professionals to help me evaluate these emotions. I believe my mental health is important because it shapes the way I handle stress and how I make healthy choices. I maintain my mental health through therapy and friendship, playing the sport I love, and meal prepping.

First, I would like to thank Pettable for this opportunity to speak about my best friend and companion. I struggle with chronic anxiety. As a pre-medical student, competition is more rampant than in an episode of Survivor. Anxiety had slowly become part of my life, and I thought I had it managed until my first panic attack. I remember it was a typical afternoon. I had a biochemistry final and a genetics final back to back. As I entered the gigantic lecture hall, I began to feel the walls closing in on me. A cold sweat started running down my neck, and it felt like my lungs wouldn't expand. Finally, I bolted out of the testing room, making a vast commotion as everyone darted their heads to look back at me. It was at this moment that I knew I was not okay. I needed help. Fast forward 2 months, and I knew my anxiety needed to be addressed, but I did not know where to begin. Mental health was quite stigmatized around my family and culture, so I felt I couldn't bring this up with my loved ones. As I sat in my local Starbucks, contemplating my situation, my gaze fell upon Have a Heart, a local animal shelter & non-profit organization in South Florida. I chucked my cold soy latte in the trash and darted to the shelter. Entering Have a Heart, I was overwhelmed by the amount of loving senior and puppy dogs barking back at me. I came to find out that many of these animals were either returned by their original owners or wholly abandoned and found by Have a Heart staff members. As I played with each pup, I noticed a tiny Yorkshire terrier trembling in the background. He was about 2 years old and severely underweight. Something about this little guy made me think of myself, and without thought, I rescued my best friend, Mushu. Mushu is my now 3-year-old emotional support dog. He plays the role of therapist and helps me battle my anxiety to the greatest extent. His loving and joyous nature makes me smile every day, and even when I am at my lowest, Mushu can sense that and snuggle his head between my shoulder, comforting me through my emotions. Mushu has taught me to love life and be grateful for every moment in the present, and for that, I am so thankful.

As we live and breathe today, our planet stands slowly withering away. Big oil and production companies thrive economically at the expense of our future. While this truth is gradually causing our demise, we can change course. The beauty of our democracy is that we have a voice. The most impactful way to combat climate change is by making our voices heard by those in power. It was 2017, and the powers in Washington had just withdrawn from the Paris Agreement. We were no longer part of the collective nations that would promise to reduce our Green House Gas (GHG) emissions. As a South Floridian, I was outraged. GHG emissions are responsible for increasing our water temperatures. This has singlehandedly destroyed the Florida Keys' abundant coral reefs. Coral reefs are not only breathtaking, but they are home to millions, if not billions, of sea creatures. Coral reefs have the most abundant ecosystems, and because of climate change, only 1% of our beautiful coral reefs remain intact. If there was any time to fight against climate change, it was now. So I gathered my classmates and banded together to make our voices heard. First, we wrote letters to send to our congressional representatives and the Governor of Florida. We sat in a circle, expressing our emotions and providing compelling facts about climate change and the future of Florida's economy. Then, we labeled and sent our letters to our local representatives. A few months passed, and I had yet to hear a word. Then, just as I was about to lose hope, I received the first letter back from Congresswoman Lois Frankel. Ms. Frankel expressed her concern along with mine. She informed me of the legislation being put into place in the state of Florida to fight climate change. Lois Frankel sponsored H.Res.1145, which is a resolution put into place to recognize and accept the findings of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change in the special report on the impacts of global warming and express the sense that immediate action by Congress and the Administration is needed to reduce greenhouse gases. In her letter, she gave me other ideas to participate in democracy and make my voice heard on this issue, like rallying and speaking on social media. To know that our tiny voice could garner impact was the reassurance I needed to keep fighting against climate change. So, in addition to speaking to my local representatives, I started attending community rallies, minimized my personal waste consumption, and reduced my meat intake. I will continue to strive to fight climate change by making my voice heard and turning my words into action.

The greatest female warrior of all time, Mulan, is my favorite Disney character. Mulan breaks all of society's conforming beliefs. As a result, she doesn't get a husband, she loves to learn, and she singlehandedly saves the entire country of China?! You can't get more superhero than that. In addition, Mulan's love for her father is so inspiring. In China, only men were allowed to be drafted as warriors. Unfortunately, Mulan was the only child of her parents, forcing her elderly father to take the oath to fight in the war. Mulan then places her whole life at risk by stealing her father's armor, disguising herself as a man, and running off to fight in place of her father, knowing that if her identity is discovered, she will be executed. Mulan wouldn't be Mulan, however, without her trusty sidekick Mushu. Mushu is a fierce, fiery, and feisty mini dragon who is summoned to awaken the Great Stone Dragon to protect Mulan during her perilous journey. Mushu destroys the Great Stone Dragon's altar in all his glory and takes his place instead to protect Mulan. Together, the two underdogs prevail against all odds and create a blossoming friendship that lasts a lifetime. Mushu's love, strength, and humor are why I always mention him whenever someone asks me about Mulan (Side note: I also named my dog Mushu out of my love for this character!) No Disney character compares to the greatness of Mulan. She is everything I hope to be as a daughter, friend, and future physician. Her power and strength are unmatchable. She is determined to become the greatest warrior, loves harder than any daughter can love, is independent to the greatest extent, and has an awesome red dragon as her sidekick and best friend. Mulan is forever my favorite Disney character.

As an aspiring physician, competition in the field of pre-medicine is brutal. In my experience, I've found pre-med students to be more cut-throat than Gordon Ramsay in an episode of Hell's Kitchen. Unfortunately, this environment primed me to be just as competitive, but I soon discovered it would be detrimental. During my junior year in college, I was on the path to becoming a physician. I was on track to graduate Summa Cum Laude, and I had created a balance between my academic and personal life. It was the day of our Biochemistry mid-term. After walking out of the gigantic lecture hall, I huddle amongst my classmates to discuss the exam. While discussing the exam, many of my classmates began to mention other extracurriculars they were accomplishing before medical school applications were due. I found my peers applying for medical jobs, taking on long-term volunteering projects, and even publishing research papers. Immediately, my heart sank. I began to feel inadequate. Impulsively, I decided to become a teaching assistant, work an additional part-time job, and apply for a position in a research lab. Two months after taking on all these extracurricular activities, I found myself eating extremely unhealthy, sparing no time for friends and family, and dropping into a significant depression. I was overwhelmed and overworked. It wasn't until a weekend spent with my family that my mom noticed a drastic change in my appearance. As soon as my mom mentioned this, I broke down under stress. I cried and cried for hours, feeling like I had failed myself. I thought that I could never become a doctor. This moment sparked a massive change for me, one that I am forever grateful for, because that very next day, I decided to go to my school's free mental health and counseling center. I spoke with a licensed psychologist and attended group therapy. I quickly realized that many other students were going through the same dilemma. I was now part of a fast-growing community where students could be free to talk about the struggles of academia and a community where people understood the daily pressures of a pre-med. After discovering the mental health and counseling center, I created constructive friendships rather than volatile and competitive ones. After counseling, my friends and I would attend our school's personal gym and play volleyball together. We would also find time to grocery shop and meal prep together, creating healthy meals that fit our budget and lifestyle. Whenever that feeling of inadequacy resurged, I now had access to a team of licensed professionals to help me evaluate these emotions. School is hard, but I maintain my mental health through therapy and friendship, my physical health through playing the sport I love, and my nutritional health through grocery shopping whole, fresh foods, and meal prepping.

As a child of immigrants, the entire American education system was foreign to my parents and me, but nothing was more alien than my pre-medical journey in college. Application to medical starts during your four years of undergrad. Requirement after requirement is expected of you. Perfect GPA, MCAT score, years of research and publications, hundreds of physicians shadowing hours, and so on. I remember drowning in the amount of information I was supposed to intake concerning medical school requirements. It was a stressful & discouraging process in college, and while my parents supported me emotionally, there was little they could do for me academically. I was truly all alone. During my time as a teaching assistant, I met Amanda. Amanda and I were both set on the pre-medical track. I vividly remember unloading my anxieties unto her every Wednesday during our conjoined office hours. She would sit there and patiently listen to me spew and cry for 1 hour a week, and she didn't even bill my insurance! Then, one day, during my weekly rant, Amanda looked at me and said. "Don't you have any help through this process at home?". I explained to her that my parents did not go to school here, nor are they involved in academia, so I am on my own educationally. Her face turned from one of confusion into one of sympathy. Now she understood why I was so anxious. It turns out Amanda's mom was a medical school director. Amanda had seen the medical application process firsthand and knew exactly what to focus on versus what not to focus on. From that point forward, each Wednesday was no longer filled with tears and anxieties but hope and knowledge. Amanda was kind enough to share the medical process and what medical schools look for in an applicant. She guided me through research labs, showed me how to ask for recommendation letters, and even introduced me to her mom. The wisdom that Amanda passed onto me during our weekly office hours is why I have been accepted into an accredited medical school as you read this. To me, generational wealth embodies more than financial wealth. Generational wealth means passing on wisdom and knowledge that experience taught you. In the future, I plan to use my medical education to create a free, easy-access medical school guidance company with highly qualified advisors helping pre-meds achieve their goal of getting into medical school and becoming a physician.

"Man in the Mirror" by Michael Jackson has never been more important to me than now. On September 16th, 2022, A beautiful 22-year-old girl named Mahsa Amini was slaughtered at the hand of Iran's so-called "Morality Police" for improperly wearing her hijab. This started an uprising in the country of Iran, leading to the deaths of thousands of innocent men, women, and children. As I watched this news unfold, I felt guilty. How can I change these circumstances? How can I go on with my passions and career knowing there is endless violence in such a beautiful place? I decided to take action. MJ's lyrics embodied what I needed to hear as I blasted "Man in the Mirror" on my way to my first freedom protest in Fort Lauderdale. He sings, "If they wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make a change". "Man in the Mirror" holds great importance to me. This song embraces change at the personal level and focuses on self-reflection. If you want to make a difference, take action, and change will follow suit.

"A Bird Upon Her Shoulder" A bird upon her shoulder She grows heavy and dense Her chest is tight, face turns white Her arms begin to tense A bird upon her shoulder Her time seems to stop Her fingers turning colder As she gets ready to drop A bird upon her shoulder Too much pressure, too much at stake Everyone counting on her For goodness sake A bird upon her shoulder She will soon have to face When failure and rejection come to place A bird upon her shoulder She will be grateful for this bird Not now, but in the future Her passions will he heard A bird upon her shoulder She learns how to tame That bird upon her shoulder No longer bringing shame A bird upon her shoulder It may still bring fear But she knows how to face it When it comes near A bird upon her shoulder She and it have become friends That bird upon her shoulder She is grateful until the end

When my family immigrated from Iran to America, we became submerged in a culturally-rich community. Our neighbors ranged from South African natives to Eastern European and Latinx. Every week, we had what they called a "Culture Fest." Culture Fest was the combination of a block party and a potluck. Foods around the world would be lined up on white, plastic rental tables. Different languages would spew from one corner to the next. I always looked forward to Culture Fest because of our friend, Zeeba. Zeeba was such a light in my childhood. She ignited my passion for volleyball and would take care of me in my mother's absence. Zeeba was my second mom, so when she fell critically ill at only 54 years old, I was devastated. After a long battle with cancer, Zeeba passed away at 56. No longer would I have my mini volleyball practices and Persian writing lessons with her. Life without Zeeba was my new regular. As time went on, I noticed a common theme in my adolescence. My community seemed to have more severe underlying health conditions than other communities, and most of my friends, family, and neighbors had little access to proper health care. I remember our Greek neighbor, Lucky, would always joke about the incompetency of our healthcare system, and my dad would chuckle in agreement. This subtle fact has always lingered in my mind, especially since I have seen neglect in health care to someone near and dear to me. Throughout college, I knew I wanted to find a way to change the tide. How can I provide quality healthcare to underserved communities like mine? After months of research, I came across osteopathic medicine. Osteopathic medicine seemed like a new form of healthcare. Osteopathic medicine focuses on a whole person-centered approach, focusing on wellness & lifestyle rather than only disease treatment. Additionally, osteopathic physicians and medical schools have focused on creating a new generation of physicians to support and treat those communities who have been neglected by our healthcare system in the past. No longer will our underserved communities have to forego medical treatment due to financial and physical inaccessibility. I am choosing osteopathic medicine because I believe learning this medical practice will allow me to bridge the healthcare gap seen in minority communities and make healthcare a right, not a privilege, to all. I am choosing Osteopathic medicine to bring quality healthcare to women like Zeeba.

Every day, from 2nd-grade addition until 12th-grade calculus, I always brought my math homework home to my dad. Each night I would sit as he gave himself a crash course on my homework and began to teach it to me. My dad taught me everything from multiplication tricks down to how to find a derivative without using the power rule, but his math teaching skills were only put to the test once I joined my high school Mathletes team. Our team was excellent, but American Heritage High was our final competitor, and they hadn't lost a Mathletes competition in 5 years. It was down to the final buzzer. The question on the board was a complex logarithmic function that my team needed help to figure out. Analyzing the problem, I remembered my dad's lessons. If the log is in the exponent on both sides of the equation and the whole numbers are the same on both sides, then the log and the whole number cancel out, leaving you with a simple algebraic equation! As I locked in our final answer, my team and I were filled with gut-wrenching anxiety. The moderator looked down and announced that my team was the Mathlete champion! The logic, problem-solving, and thrill of math are why I love mathematics, and a massive shoutout to my dad for his never-ending support through my endless math homework sheets!

Webster's dictionary defines medicine as something that affects one's well-being. However, I see it as so much more than that. Medicine is hope, which is why I am pursuing a degree in Osteopathic medicine. In the fall of 2015, I woke up from the piercing screams of my mother wretched over the toilet bowl. She was suffering from an inexplicable sharp abdominal pain and could no longer handle the hurt. My dad and I quickly rushed her to the emergency room, where she was sent for many tests and ultimately injected with opioids for the next few hours. The following day, as my father and I waited anxiously in the waiting room, the physician informed us that there was no abnormality found anywhere in my mom. Whatever pain she felt was fleeting, and she was now in the body of a healthy 47-year-old woman. Unfortunately, that was not the case, as we found ourselves rushing my mom back to the same emergency room with the same abdominal pain. The next six months of our lives consisted of hospital rooms and endless clinical testing. Unfortunately, every test that my mom underwent came back negative. Lupus? No. Pancreatic cancer? No. The physicians couldn't determine the underlying cause of my mom's pain, and she was continuously pumped with opioids to alleviate her symptoms. Eventually, my mother was so heavily medicated that she was barely conscious half of the time. My father and I were distraught about her well-being and decided to do our research on potential treatment options. I came across a treatment known as Osteopathic Manipulative Therapy. OMT's procedure seemed promising for my mom. It was a way to manage her pain without the use of medications. My mom's first appointment consisted of lots of case history. Her OMT was highly individualized, and after multiple sessions, my mom could feel the improvement in her pain. Before, my mom could not work, hang out with friends or even maintain her hygiene correctly. Because of medicine, she was able to better her quality of life. Traditional and alternative medicine is essential to society for maintaining quality and quantity of life. As a society, we are now able to be more engaged with our passions, create longer lasting relationships, and build financial security over time due to the advancements of medicine. Medicine allows humanity to live longer and healthier lives and will continue to do so as long as the field of medicine flourishes.

To me, rejection was synonymous with failure. That's why I did everything possible to ensure I was a shoo-in for medical school. I spent endless hours studying in freezing cold libraries and coffee shops, joined multiple long-term research projects, and became a teaching assistant; if you can think of an extracurricular, I did it. I was so focused on my escape from failure that I never went to a college football game, never went on a date with that cute boy from history class, and never even thought about attending a fraternity party. When I applied for medical school, I believed that my endless sacrifice destined me for a medical school acceptance. After my application submission, I eagerly waited. Two months passed by and still waiting for an update from any school. Two months quickly turned into three, then four, until I got my first of which would be many medical school rejection letters. Devastation is an understatement. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest, dunked into gasoline, and lit on fire. Everything I had worked towards, the balance I sacrificed, was all for naught. It took me a while to accept that I had faced the rejection I was so desperately trying to escape from, but I continued with my medical journey. I began taking graduate courses for a Master's in Public Health at Florida International University and got my licensure to become a medical assistant. The hands-on training I received as a medical assistant was absolutely priceless. It allowed me to see what medicine was truly all about. I learned that medicine is not just knowledge. Medicine is compassion and competency all in one. The time I have spent in graduate courses has exposed me to what true academic independence is. My fellow classmates were so diverse. Some had families, some were pursuing their mid-life careers, and some were just life-long learners. They taught me that education doesn't have to be followed on a timeline. We have the opportunity to learn throughout our lifetime. Throughout my experience, I learned that rejection is not failure. On the contrary, rejection is an opportunity to grow and learn new things that you may not have known before. I still have an unquenchable thirst to chase after my future in medicine, but I no longer fear rejection nor see rejection as failure. I have realized that actual failure is when you stop chasing after your dreams and that I will never do.

Freedom. That is what my family was after when they fled Iran during the 1979 Iranian Revolution. Moving to a new country was a culture shock, but being an undocumented immigrant was a battle all on its own. The effort they put into providing me with a better life than they had was evident, but this hard work came at the expense of their health. As a child, we lived in an under-represented and impoverished area in South Florida. As I grew older, I noticed a commonality among all my neighbors and parents. They never went to the doctor. I remember my father falling chronically ill. He would be pained weekly with persistent vomiting, ear infections, and swollen lymph nodes. I recall asking my father why he never went to see a doctor. He looked at me dead and said, "Azizam, I don't have money to see a doctor." That sentence became seared in my memory as the years went on. It soon became evident that my dad was not the only person with this roadblock to healthcare. Through my college research, I recognized a troubling pattern. Those without money, access, and healthcare died much sooner than those with access to the abovementioned things. I quickly realized healthcare was a privilege, not a right in America. With my Medical Degree, I plan to be a building block to change this narrative. I want to pursue Family Medicine and work in clinics for underrepresented minorities like my parents and beyond. I am so thankful for the opportunity to receive a formal education. Just like health care, education is a privilege for many. Being able to provide knowledge and gain perspective on the world is a gift I want to share as a physician. In college, I discovered a passion for chemistry. Balancing equations, learning about our own chemical makeup, and finding the rarities located under our feet in the earth, was something I was fascinated by. However, I noticed among many students that this class was challenging. Many of my peers were in their second retake of chemistry, and my classmates were teetering on a degree change. I saw this opportunity as one where I could make a difference in. So, I became a free tutor for all chemistry 1 students. My study sessions were filled with easy-to-understand analogies and color-coordinated notes. I collaborated with my fellow peers to contribute to their success, which was one of the greatest feelings in the world. Knowing that I could lift my society up through the use of knowledge is what I will continue to do as a future physician. With my degree, I plan to join academia and make traditional learning accessible to all who want to take on the challenge.

My main desire to become a physician began with my grandpa. I loved being around my grandfather. His vivacious attitude and overwhelming spirit kept me afloat. My grandfather was one of the few primary care physicians in Kermanshah, a small city in Iran, which meant he was the region’s guardian. My grandfather loved taking me around the city with him, especially when visiting patients. One October afternoon, we drove into what seemed like an abandoned shack. The white satin paint was dusted with mud as it slowly chipped off the corners, the reminisce of what appeared to be roses remained on the dead bushes, and the hinges off of the door were almost ripped apart in two. Inside, my grandfather and I discovered a beautiful family. The father and mother were cradling their ill son. As soon as they spotted us, they thanked my grandfather as he flashed them a sympathetic smile. As he took their son for treatment, my grandfather whispered to me, “Stay here with the mom and dad.” I slowly whipped around the side and hugged both parents as tears filled their eyes. As I fetched them some tea, they began to explain how they had been struggling with their son’s unknown illness and lacked the proper funds to acquire adequate treatment. We bonded over the difficulty of English grammar and our love for the piano. Toward the end of my visit, I could sense safety in their eyes. They felt comfortable enough to trust me with their story, and at that moment, I also felt a sense of purpose in my life journey. I never imagined that only one year later, I would be clinging to this memory so tightly. I recall one morning, my father pacing frantically around our living room. He was shouting incoherently in Farsi, tears running down his face. I felt a large hole in my stomach, and I froze. My worst fear had just been confirmed; my grandfather had passed away. The man who inspired me to be a better person and who ignited my passion for medicine, my Baba Joon, has left this world. I decided to take this anger and grief I was experiencing and reinvent it into something I knew my grandfather would be proud of. In the upcoming years, I began volunteering at local community centers, dedicated my energy to my college studies, and graduated Summa Cum Laude. I started working as a Medical Assistant at an Audiology practice. While it pained me to know my grandfather could not be with me to see my achievements, I found peace in knowing that where ever he was, he was proud of me. Every day, I think about my grandpa. His love blossomed my passion for medicine and service. I will keep pursuing my dream of becoming a physician, and with this scholarship money, I can support this medical education and give back to my community tenfold.