In January of 2022, at the age of 14, I lay in a Children's Hospital in Jacksonville, newly diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. I had been suffering from Diabetic Ketoacidosis for months without my knowledge, causing a plethora of confusion, fear, and pain. I dreaded the upcoming week of learning how to be my own caretaker. However, these things were not what resonated with me the most. I most vividly remember the different ways in which I was treated by the hospital staff. My first nurse would count down from three before inserting my IV, while the second one did not. One male nurse came into the room without saying a word and checked my vitals without a “Good morning” or even eye contact. The next talked my ear off in her rich southern accent. Another told me about the three other T1D kids on the floor who were getting to go home that day, on a day when I was not. Some asked me about school, my friends, my dog, which reminded me of all the things I was missing out on while I was there. All these nurses had good intentions, but I never felt personally connected or fully safe under their care. In such a vulnerable state all I was longing for was someone who understood me. Then another night nurse came. She explained to me that she had T1D too, and showed me the medical devices she wore. She explained that I could be given one the next day if I wanted, but I could put it in whenever I was ready. She was gentle and took all my questions with open arms. This was the first time I felt safe in that building. Seeing this mature, kind human who figured out exactly what I needed while under her care. This is what I hope to get out of a career in nursing: providing a feeling of safety. This nurse inspired me by embracing her femininity in the hospital room and using it to uplift me as she cared for me. Since then I have always observed that women have a unique ability to care. I admire how femininity provides us with empathy, attentiveness, and emotional intelligence. These qualities are arguably just as important when caring for a patient as the physical care and enable women to build trust and advocate effectively for patients' needs. In a culture where health trends and male doctor's voices get more attention than severe medical issues and modern knowledge, I plan to make a difference in how girls just like my younger self are cared for. I plan to specialize in Diabetes Care & Education to achieve this. Women are the nurturing backbone of healthcare, and I am motivated to make the world of medicine a better place. I hope to have an impact similar to that of the night nurse in the ICU all those years ago. Navigating Type 1 Diabetes through high school has been a challenge. Balancing my personal care with rigorous academics, dual enrollment, leadership roles, arts academies and clubs has proved to me that I am capable of maintaining control and peace in difficult situations. I have grown to learn that my gender and chronic illness does not diminish my future, it has enhanced it.

In January of 2022, at the age of 14, I was in the hospital, newly diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. I had been suffering from Diabetic Ketoacidosis for months without my knowledge, causing a plethora of confusion, fear, and pain in the next week of training I had to learn how to be my own caretaker. However, these things were not what resonated with me the most. I most vividly remeber the different ways in which I was treated by the hospital staff. My first nurse would count down from three before inserting my IV, while the second one did not. One nurse came into the room without saying a word and checked my vitals without a “Good morning” or even eye contact. The next nurse came in and told me about the three other T1D kids on the floor who were getting to go home that day, on a day when I was not. The next came in and asked me about school, my friends, my dog and my favorite meals. This reminded me of all the things I was missing out on while I was there, in that bed. Then the night nurse came. She explained to me that she had T1D too, and showed me the medical devices she wore. She explained that I could be given one the next day if I wanted, but I could put it in whenever I was ready. She took all my questions with open arms, and when she didn’t have answers, she still did her best to explain. This was the first time I felt safe in that building. Seeing this mature, kind human who figured out exactly what I needed while under her care. This is what I hope to get out of a career in nursing: The knowledge that I provided a feeling of safety. I plan on entering into a Diabetes Education path with nursing to achieve this. With chronic illnesses, the only people who truly understand you are those who also suffer from it. My personal experience with Type 1 Diabetes has given me immense compassion to all patients suffering from chronic illness by giving me an insight on what they are going through. After years of navigating the healthcare system for prescriptions, appointments, questions, and concerns, I am extremely motivated to make the world of medicine into a better place. I hope to have an impact similar to that of the night nurse in the ICU all those years ago. There are hundreds of children out there sitting in their hospital beds, feeling uncertain about the future, and unsafe in their own bodies. As a healthcare professional it’s not just part of the job to keep vitals stable, it’s a duty to steady souls. It’s offering warmth in the cold sterility of hospitals, being a safe, steady hand in a moment of chaos, and speaking hope into hearts that may have forgotten how to listen for it.

In January of 2022, at the age of 14, I was in the hospital, newly diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. I had been suffering from Diabetic Ketoacidosis for months without my knowledge, and even after all the confusion, shock, fear, and pain, those things were not what resonated with me the most. It was the different ways in which I was treated by the hospital staff. One nurse came into the room without saying a word, and checked my vitals without a “Good morning” or eye contact. The next nurse came in and told me about the three other T1D kids in my wing who were getting to go home that day, on a day when I was not. The next nurse came in and asked me about school, my friends, my dog and my favorite meals. She reminded me of all the things I was missing out on while I was there, in that bed. Then the night nurse came. She explained to me that she had T1D too, and showed me the medical devices she wore. She explained that I could be given one the day if I wanted, but I could put it in whenever I was ready. She took all my questions with open arms, and when she didn’t have answers, she still did her best to explain. This was the first time I felt safe in that building. Seeing this mature, kind human who knew exactly what I needed during my time under her care. This is what I hope to get out of a career in nursing: The knowledge that I provided a feeling of safety to those who don’t feel safe in their own bodies. This is the most rewarding idea of them all. I plan on entering into a Diabetes Education path with nursing for this specific reason. With chronic illnesses, the only people who truly understand you are those who also suffer from it. My personal experience with Type 1 Diabetes will allow me to relate to all patients suffering from a chronic illness by allowing me a better insight on what they are going through. For parents of these children as well, feeling like your child is safe is arguably the most important feeling to have while they are in the hospital. I hope to have an impact similar to that of the nurse I had in the ICU all those years ago. An impact of peace, comfort, and safety.

As I begin the road to studying Nutrition and Human Development, I have observed how much my early life shaped my passions, actions, and therefore my career decisions. The art of cooking has always been very prevalent in my family, whether it was cooking breakfast together for a special occasion, or creating meal plans each week to ensure that everyone’s needs were met. Living in a household of eight, the importance of accommodating the varying nutritional needs of others was always emphasized. This knowledge along with my father’s Chilean cultural influence and my mother’s overflowing care in the kitchen made for an environment that encouraged the utmost care for one another. My base-line nutritional knowledge was forced to grow immensely when I was diagnosed with Type-1 Diabetes in my freshman year of high school. While the doctors told me that I would still be able to eat anything I wanted if it was accommodated with insulin, it became very obvious to me how certain foods affected my body. When I noticed a negative effect on my blood sugar levels after a meal, I would research to figure out why, to allow myself to either avoid it the next time or at least be prepared for it. Learning how to take better care of myself allowed me to be more present to my family, friends, and my community. I am a two-year member of the National Honor Society and frequently volunteer in local areas. I am also passionate about music and performing, holding leadership positions in multiple departments of the arts academy at my school. Through participating in concerts and musicals, I have not only observed the impact that art has on any person, but also learned the beauty of sharing experiences with others. This same idea applied to my realization that I share countless experiences with other chronically ill teenagers. Having a chronic illness can be one of the most isolating experiences, as it seems you are the only person in the world who understands your needs. This is what draws me to nutrition, because I can take on the role of helping Type 1 Diabetics understand their bodies from less of an intimidating, strictly medical level. I anticipate many obstacles in college due to my chronic illness. The science fields are always mentally and physically demanding, even more so with a body operating on a different schedule then most students. Along with the academics I will be moving away from home, which will force my to learn how to be my own caregiver in a completely new environment. Through determination and surrounding myself with reliable peers, I intend to pursue excellence regardless of these challenges. Sharing knowledge with others about how to take care of their health is such a valuable thing. I believe I can take on this role due to my efforts in the arts, my family, and my community. Meeting other Type 1 Diabetics has shown me the power of having such a personal thing in common with another, and the self-confidence that follows learning that you are not alone in your struggles. My dedication to helping others like me live out their fullest lives will be my driving force in furthering my academics.

Throughout the winter of 2021, I developed DKA, Diabetic Ketoacidosis, without my knowledge, or the knowledge of anyone around me. I was slowly losing my ability to do what I loved without feeling fatigued or sick. I stopped feeling my sense of self. On January 4th, 2022, my dad carried me to the car and took me to our local ER, as we were all desperate for a solution. The doctor told me I was just dehydrated and sent me home with a list of “Yes” foods, many of which were high in sugar, and “No” foods. I followed this list for the next four days, which only sent my body further down its deadly spiral. On January 9th I went back to the ER, and after a blood test I was asked if I had Type 1 Diabetes. With limited knowledge about the hereditary cause of Type 1 vs. causes of Type 2 displayed in media, I almost scoffed as I responded no. The nurse then turned to my mom and said, “Well she does now.” I was life flighted to the nearest children’s hospital. The next morning, I began my journey of learning how to keep my body alive. This included four days of training, all while learning to stand again, walk again, eat again. That whole month I was home from school, managing my blood sugar, sleeping, and trying to keep up with school. I was terrified of going back to school, chained by the fear of judgement or comments about the medical devices I now wore on my arms. After finally easing back into school and explaining my disease to all my friends and peers, it became a little easier. The doctors told me it would become second nature. While this was true, I never reached the finish line that my newly-diagnosed self had expected. Having a chronic illness means having to accept that recovery is not an option, as the issue will always be present. It is an ever-changing journey. As I look back almost three years later, I realize the silver lining of it all. Diabetes taught me resilience, strength, and patience. It taught me to stick up for myself when my teachers scolded me for being on my phone, and I had to explain I was just checking my blood sugar or giving myself insulin. Diabetes has given me friends, through interactions with diabetics in public who recognize me by my Dexcom. This taught me the power of having something in common with another human being; it automatically creates a strong connection. It sparked my fascination for human nutrition, how it can affect every Diabetic differently, and how much that contrasts with the average person’s body. Integrating these interests with my hobby of cooking helped me develop blood sugar balancing recipes that I hope to continue sharing with other diabetics. Diabetes also taught me the power of knowledge and understanding. I am determined to make experiences better for Type 1 Diabetic children who find themselves confused, frightened, and without correct knowledge of how our bodies work. I share my story whenever I can and explain my medical devices whenever necessary. Knowing that the people I educate will most likely meet another T1D someday, it gives me delight to think they will be able to understand their situation and be a comfort to those people. Nowadays, I light up when someone asks me “Why do you always wear that thing on your arm?”, because I believe the most painful stories can still have the most beautiful endings.