As a medical student, I have come to appreciate the critical significance of mental health, both for myself and for the patients I will one day care for. Mental health is not just a topic of academic interest but a fundamental aspect of well-being that affects every facet of life, including academic performance, interpersonal relationships, and overall quality of life. Throughout the history of healthcare, there has been a prevailing stigma around mental health issues among medical professionals. Traditionally, there was a culture of stoicism and self-sacrifice where healthcare providers often neglected their own mental health while prioritizing the care of their patients. This historical perspective has contributed to a pervasive reluctance among healthcare professionals to seek help for their own mental health concerns, fearing stigma, repercussions on their careers, or the perception of weakness. As a result of this neglect physicians have one of the highest rates of burnout and suicidal ideation. Additionally, as healthcare institutions combined make-up the largest employer behind the federal government, this affects a large part of our population. Particularly, because mental health significantly impacts physical health as well. Burnout is characterized by emotional exhaustion, depersonalization, and a diminished sense of personal accomplishment. It can result from prolonged stress, long working hours, high patient volumes, and systemic issues within healthcare institutions. Not to mention patients and their families often experience their lowest moments in hospitals, but for the provider multiply that by 20-40 per day. Witnessing the pain of the human existence, means providers have an extra responsibility to care for themselves. Burnout not only impacts the well-being of healthcare providers but also compromises patient care and contributes to higher rates of medical errors and reduced empathy. Recognizing the urgency of addressing mental health among medical students and healthcare professionals, there is a growing movement towards implementing new initiatives in medical schools and healthcare institutions. These initiatives aim to cultivate a supportive environment that prioritizes mental health and well-being. In medical schools, mental health initiatives can be addressed by education and training, support services, access to on-site therapists, and work-life balance. Incorporating comprehensive mental health education into the curriculum to raise awareness, reduce stigma, and equip students with coping strategies and resilience-building skills is a good start. Establishing confidential counseling services specifically tailored to the needs of medical students, providing a safe space for them to seek support and guidance. And promoting work-life balance through structured wellness programs that encourage physical activity, mindfulness practices, and time management skills. Personally, I help run my school's Pickle ball league to promote comraderie and a place where we can get some exercise and let off steam. My friend group has also started a "Life Talks" event, where once a quarter a female physician can come to talk us as a group of young women aspiring physicians, about life and financial planning, and confidence building, and combating self-doubt, dealing with workplace stressors like sexism, and work-life balance. Hearing from people who have walked in our shoes gives us optimism to keep going and do our best. By integrating these new mental health initiatives into medical education and healthcare practice, we can begin to shift the culture towards one that values and prioritizes mental health. This holistic approach not only benefits the mental well-being of medical students and healthcare professionals but also enhances patient care outcomes, creating a healthier and more compassionate healthcare system overall. As a future physician, I am committed to advocating for these initiatives and contributing to a healthcare environment where mental health is recognized as a cornerstone of professional and personal well-being.

The multiethnic, diverse neighborhood that raised me shaped a large part of my identity and fostered my appreciation for community-driven initiatives. From raising money to support local youth groups to helping one of our own through cancer treatments, these are the people that taught me the power of collective effort. Different parents took “shifts” watching us turn the cul-de-sac into our playground using traffic-cones. People would pitch in to babysit each other’s children when their parents went out of town; and it is from this community, I learned to cook dishes from various countries, attended their cultural festivals, and invited them to my family's Indian cultural celebrations. Additionally, Indian Classical Dance (Bharatanatyam) was a large part of my upbringing that I’m still involved in today. From performing at exhibition openings at the Bowers Museum and the famed Getty Center to raising funds for cancer research, tsunami relief for Japan in 2011, and at an International dance festival in Croatia, I’ve gotten opportunities to share my art with diverse audiences. I was in a Capoeira workshop at an international dance festival, trying to keep up with my partner, Alina. Companies from various countries came to share their traditional dances through day long workshops for each dance style. While I was trained in Bharatanatyam, learning dance forms that I had never heard of such as Capoeira, Baladi, or Rakkas, proved difficult—even more so due to language barriers. Capoeira, a martial arts dance form, requires coordination and connection between partners to avoid accidental injuries. Between my lack of the Portuguese language and Alina’s lack of English, taking corrections was challenging, to say the least. When it was my turn to lead a Bharatanatyam workshop, I attempted to engage more than simply gesturing to my arms and legs. I learned phrases like “What’s your name?” and “How are you?” in Portuguese to create connection. I learned that body language is similar across cultures. Encouraging smiles, kind eyes, and even a coarse attempt to say a few words in another’s native language, results in remarkably better reception. While I was delighted that my tactics had led me to form this brief connection with Alina, I experienced the impact of what non-native English speakers go through every day. Just as our commonalities through dance outweighed the language barrier, common interest in a patient’s health should outweigh external barriers in the doctor-patient relationship. I acknowledge that barriers such as language or ethnicity may act as obstacles in delivering care, but I hope to one day reassure my own patients with open body language, greater linguistic faculty, and a kind demeanor to increase comfort. Like my past experiences, I want to be challenged by new ideas and pushed to the edges of my comfort zone so I may grow as a person and future physician.

As I embark on my journey towards becoming a physician, my vision extends beyond individual patient care to encompass a broader impact on society. A medical education is not just a path to acquiring clinical skills; it is a transformative opportunity to contribute meaningfully to the well-being of communities and advocate for healthcare equity. Central to my mission is the belief that every individual deserves compassionate and inclusive healthcare. Gender affirming healthcare stands out as a crucial aspect in fostering a safer environment where everyone can assert their identity without fear of discrimination or neglect. By providing affirming care, physicians play a pivotal role in validating and supporting individuals' gender identities, thereby empowering them to take charge of their health journeys authentically. In practical terms, my approach to leveraging my medical education starts with comprehensive training in gender-affirming practices. This includes understanding the diverse spectrum of gender identities, addressing specific healthcare needs related to gender transition, and advocating for policies that ensure equal access to affirming care. By integrating these principles into my practice, I aim to create a clinical environment where patients feel respected, understood, and empowered. Beyond the clinic walls, I envision participating in advocacy efforts to promote inclusivity and awareness within the medical community and society at large. This involves collaborating with healthcare institutions to implement inclusive policies, participating in educational initiatives to train future healthcare professionals on gender-affirming care, and engaging in public discourse to combat stigma and misinformation. Furthermore, my commitment extends to addressing healthcare disparities that disproportionately affect marginalized communities. Whether advocating for accessible healthcare resources in underserved areas, supporting initiatives to improve maternal and child health outcomes, or championing mental health services for vulnerable populations, my goal is to contribute to a healthcare system that prioritizes equity and social justice. As a future physician, I recognize the profound privilege and responsibility of advocating for those whose voices are often marginalized or unheard. This entails actively listening to patients' experiences, respecting their autonomy in healthcare decisions, and fostering a collaborative approach to treatment that considers their holistic well-being. In addition to direct patient care and advocacy, I see research as a powerful tool for driving positive change in healthcare. By engaging in research that explores health disparities, evaluates the impact of interventions, or advances medical knowledge in gender-affirming care, I aim to contribute evidence-based solutions that can inform policies and improve clinical practices globally. Ultimately, my vision for using my medical education to make a positive difference in the world revolves around creating a healthcare landscape that is inclusive, compassionate, and equitable. By championing gender affirming healthcare and advocating for broader healthcare reforms, I aspire to contribute to a society where everyone can access quality care, regardless of their background or identity. My journey as a physician is not simply about acquiring medical knowledge and skills; it is about harnessing these tools to advocate for social change, promote health equity, and empower individuals to lead healthier, more fulfilling lives. Good health is a greater beacon of freedom than anything else in this world, but often is privilege only experienced by few. By embracing the principles of gender affirming healthcare and striving for inclusivity in all aspects of my practice, I aim to contribute to a world in which healthcare is a fundamental human right and every individual can pursue their health journey with dignity and respect.

One class in my post-baccalaureate program before starting medical school had a company-modeled project, which divided the class into sub-teams. I was on the Hardware sub-team working with the Software and Assay sub-teams, making up the technical teams. On a larger scale we had to work with the non-technical teams to design and market an IVD (in-vitro diagnostic). Our inter-team interactions started off rocky because each team viewed the project through their own lenses and deliverables. We only communicated when we needed something from each other. This lack of constant, effective communication led to content holes; we were trying to cover up open wounds with band-aids. My mid-semester peer evaluations revealed feedback encouraging more intentional and proactive collaboration. To implement the feedback and improve team dynamics, I stepped up as the inter-team liaison. My priority was to improve communication, which would in turn improve results. I organized activities to get to know each other better, weekly update meetings, and an open line of communication. I made myself available to anyone who wanted to speak to me privately, project related or otherwise. During meetings I would ask questions for the betterment of others, even if I knew the answer, to clarify information without putting others on the spot. I even got to know classmates as individuals. Just as clear instructions or guidance is crucial to a contributor, feedback about leadership techniques and behaviors is necessary for a leader. Both allow the respective team members to adapt and grow according to the varying personalities present. Any team needs constant, efficient communication about the current standing of the project. Teammates should not need to walk on eggshells around each other if there is an issue. As a leader, I take pride in creating an environment with open and safe communication that also holds the team members accountable for their deliverables on an appropriate deadline. I’m a firm believer that all feedback can be delivered kindly and constructively with suggestions based on what techniques motivate each individual. A good leader will weave a communication strategy with techniques that complement the individuals in the team, and a responsible contributor can step up any time they sense a gap in leadership that they can fill to ensure a positive outcome. Delegation is important and playing to everyone's strengths while trying to have team members improve their weaknesses by being challenged is important depending on the goal and time frame of the project. I believe in a “best-idea-in-the-room-wins” policy, because it’s helped me thrive in the past. However, if a team is unable to come to a decision, I don’t mind the occasional authoritarian decision-maker. All this to say, every situation is different and must be handled with intuition, empathy, and decisiveness. By implementing these organizational changes, I took ownership in my project contributions, building relationships and rapport amongst and across sub-teams, which resulted in timely results and improved quality of work. When starting my senior medical-device-capstone-project, Bubtech, I attended grand rounds—spending time in clinics with patients and physicians, meeting professors doing different research to see what unmet need we were going to tackle. This was one of the first incidents that revealed a collaborative table of decision makers at every level of healthcare—in hospitals, public policy, or biotech companies. I decided then that I was going to be a leading voice championing patients at this table. I want to use my love for innovating and contributing scientific application as an accessible part of clinical care. Looking to the future, therapies in healthcare are only as diverse as their leaders, and I intend to become one.

One class in my post-baccalaureate program before starting medical school had a company-modeled project, which divided the class into sub-teams. I was on the Hardware sub-team working with the Software and Assay sub-teams, making up the technical teams. On a larger scale we had to work with the non-technical teams to design and market an IVD (in-vitro diagnostic). Our inter-team interactions started off rocky because each team viewed the project through their own lenses and deliverables. We only communicated when we needed something from each other. This lack of constant, effective communication led to content holes; we were trying to cover up open wounds with band-aids. My mid-semester peer evaluations revealed feedback encouraging more intentional and proactive collaboration. To implement the feedback and improve team dynamics, I stepped up as the inter-team liaison. My priority was to improve communication, which would in turn improve results. I organized activities to get to know each other better, weekly update meetings, and an open line of communication. I made myself available to anyone who wanted to speak to me privately, project related or otherwise. During meetings I would ask questions for the betterment of others, even if I knew the answer, to clarify information without putting others on the spot. I even got to know classmates as individuals. Just as clear instructions or guidance is crucial to a contributor, feedback about leadership techniques and behaviors is necessary for a leader. Both allow the respective team members to adapt and grow according to the varying personalities present. Any team needs constant, efficient communication about the current standing of the project. Teammates should not need to walk on eggshells around each other if there is an issue. As a leader, I take pride in creating an environment with open and safe communication that also holds the team members accountable for their deliverables on an appropriate deadline. I’m a firm believer that all feedback can be delivered kindly and constructively with suggestions based on what techniques motivate each individual. A good leader will weave a communication strategy with techniques that complement the individuals in the team, and a responsible contributor can step up any time they sense a gap in leadership that they can fill to ensure a positive outcome. Delegation is important and playing to everyone's strengths while trying to have team members improve their weaknesses by being challenged is important depending on the goal and time frame of the project. I believe in a “best-idea-in-the-room-wins” policy, because it’s helped me thrive in the past. However, if a team is unable to come to a decision, I don’t mind the occasional authoritarian decision-maker. All this to say, every situation is different and must be handled with intuition, empathy, and decisiveness. By implementing these organizational changes, I took ownership in my project contributions, building relationships and rapport amongst and across sub-teams, which resulted in timely results and improved quality of work. When starting my senior medical-device-capstone-project, Bubtech, I attended grand rounds—spending time in clinics with patients and physicians, meeting professors doing different research to see what unmet need we were going to tackle. This was one of the first incidents that revealed a collaborative table of decision makers at every level of healthcare—in hospitals, public policy, or biotech companies. I decided then that I was going to be a leading voice championing patients at this table. I want to use my love for innovating and contributing scientific application as an accessible part of clinical care. Looking to the future, therapies in healthcare are only as diverse as their leaders, and I intend to become one.

There's something immensely magical about listening to someone who has complete awareness of their art; the way they guide you through every nuanced decision and artistic choice so clearly without sounding pretentious is a gift. The Swiftie and Barbie girl summer of 2023 will certainly be one for the books, as it exemplifies the mastery that icons like Taylor Swift and Greta Gerwig have over their art. I lump these two together because for me the pop culture phenomenon of the past summer has a chokehold on me and many of my peers. Songs overtake senses and possess a unique ability to transport people back to moments, memories, and emotional states. I doubt a person that hears a Taylor Swift song and doesn’t get transported to either the actual concert, if you were lucky enough to attend as I, myself was, or a TikTok video of her precise choreography, stage design, and production value. Every time I hear August, I think of The Summer I Turned Pretty S2 trailer. The homage to her art surrounds us, and there have been few moments like this in my living memory. Andie Anderson from "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" might have been the first “How to” girl, but the “How to” girl of my lifetime has definitely been Taylor Swift. She may not have started out intending to be that, but her discography has become a guideline on “How to process your emotions 101.” She was the most prominent young woman to be so vulnerable with her emotions and femininity. For decades she was berated by the media, until the dawn of the ERAS tour. The summer of 2023 has been instrumental for me. Entering graduate school, I’ve learned more about adulting and myself. In figuring out what kind of person I want to be, I’m also determining what kind of physician I would like to be—both literally and figuratively—as I navigate the tortuous world of medicine as a future female doctor. The summer of Barbie and the ERAS tour, which I was lucky enough to attend, will forevermore be known as the summer that celebrated ultra-femininity as a power within its own right. They have each independently shaken up the economy by unleashing the spending power of women in an almost unprecedented way. From trading friendship bracelets to getting all dressed up with glitter and jewelry to embracing dressing in bright colors to taking photos with friends to my heart's content, I’ve embraced my femininity for the first time since “becoming an adult.” I put that in quotations because as a young woman who entered biotech when I initially dressed professionally but in bright colors and wore pencil skirts or business dresses, I was immediately labeled a “sorority girl.” At 21 years old, I had filed for patents and written publications, but my accomplishments paled in comparison to how I was physically viewed. The ageism and sexism in Corporate America was something I naively did not expect. From one male-dominated field (engineering) to another (medicine), I knew my future would hold more of the same. Pregaming Taylor’s music, appreciating the spiritual experience that was the ERAS concert, and seeing the aftermath of economies being stimulated, reminded me of my power. This summer’s experiences have taught me that I can embrace my femininity and girliness and still stand in my power. I can make meaningful contributions to my STEM field and still be a girly pop. This Barbie is a Swiftie and is going to be a doctor.

From the artsy coffee shop photos with an exposed brick wall in the background and the perfect partial reflection in the window to the aesthetic coffee with latte art held up with fall leaves and a book in the background, fall is an image we try to emulate. And I wholeheartedly own that basic fall girl energy. For example, did I wear a gold-toned yellow sweater at a pumpkin patch in 80 degree SoCal weather for a photo shoot with a friend and post it with a caption about Cinderella and a pumpkin carriage—absolutely. And I loved every minute of it. Autumn character energy with a whimsical, wistful tone is an entire vibe, and I am here for it. The smells and tastes of autumn are known so well, that they are marketed to us, and we buy into it. That being said, I’ll be the first to admit that my morning coffee order is the pumpkin cream cold brew when it drops. Cold brew, because fall in Southern California exists as more of a decorational concept than true autumn weather. As a result, we have to create fall and winter using all of our senses; cookies in the oven, pumpkin spice everything, hot drinks as we turn up the AC, pine-scented candles, red-orange pillows, the infamous cornucopia, and the occasional morning hike with crisp autumn air (before it gets warm in the afternoon). It’s the one time of year gourds get a rebranded glow-up. Since moving to Chicago for school a year ago, I got to experience a real fall! It’s just as magical as depicted in literature and movies. In Southern California, winter is actually more accessible than fall, because our mountains and ski towns are no more than a two-hour drive away. In fact, going skiing and surfing in a single day is a high school tradition. So elusive is fall, that we don’t see our leaves change color until it gets cold enough in January; by that time, gone is the fanciful notion of autumn as the post-New Year’s blues set in. Spring may be the era of rebirth but fall is a time of fanciful imagination and possibilities. Seeing the leaves change color and float to the ground before my eyes made me want to jump into a pile of leaves. In experiencing a true autumn for the first time, the Chestnut Praline latte became the obvious new drink of choice. My fingers certainly wouldn’t have survived a cold brew in hand in 30-40 degree morning weather. It captured the essential cozy energy to precede a Midwest winter. The drink has its own storyline—traveling from the Starbucks below my building up to my apartment to be set on the deep window sill of the bay windows in the living room. I would then wrap myself in a cozy blanket and ideally read a book. In reality, however, I would be watching a lecture video and studying for yet another medical school exam. But romanticizing the seemingly mundane things in life while sipping on a latte infuses a sense of enchantment, leading to joy, gratitude, creativity, and of course concentration. After all, coffee makes the world go around. And is it really autumn without a hot caffeinated drink in a mug that says pumpkin spice and everything nice?

Favorite Disney ride: Indiana Jones at Disneyland. Favorite Disney Princess: Ariel, Jasmine, or Rapunzel (Tangled Era). Disney movie: Tangled. Disney Pixar: The Incredibles (and maybe Toy Story). DCOM: Tie between The Cheetah Girls series or the Halloweentown series. Disney channel show: The Suite Life of Zack and Cody or Hannah Montana. Growing up a 20-minute drive from Disneyland made for an interesting childhood. The green billboard hills of ToonTown, the magic of walking through Sleeping Beauty’s castle, the quirkiness of Tomorrowland, the deep cuts of Critter County, the old Hollywood of Adventureland, and the former Paradise (now Pixar) Pier at California Adventure are permanently etched in my memory. Early on my family had annual passes and we would go almost every week. When I was around 10 years old it became too expensive, so we stopped buying the annual passes, but it certainly didn’t mean an end to Disneyland visits. Our school district sprinkled in an annual Disneyland field trip for students who met the community service requirements. And my favorite was the Honors Concert. I was lucky to live in a district where elementary, middle, and high school music funding was strongly supported. Students from the 5th through 12th grade would be auditioned for either “Honor Choir” or “Honor Orchestra.” Apart from extracurricular rehearsals and a large performance at a beautiful concert hall auditorium, the students would become Disney employees for a day by performing at Princess Pavilion in Disneyland for a 30-minute time slot. If we were lucky, then we got to be in the Parade too. Then in true Disney Fashion, we got to spend the rest of the day as guests in the parks, as an employee perk. As luck would have it, I attended college also within a 20-minute drive of Disneyland. I, of course, managed to find friends who also loved Disney. We all got the weekday-only So-Cal annual pass and determined it was “cheaper than therapy.” For four years, Disneyland, Disney California Adventure, and Downtown Disney stood as our escape—getting us through the stress after tough midterms, the sadness that followed our first real heartbreaks, and gave us a sense of adventure. It truly transported us from suburban Southern California to a magical otherworldly place. I wouldn’t realize it then, but Disney doesn’t just represent one thing in my life, so it’s difficult to pick a favorite. It followed me through my childhood, through adolescence, into young adulthood. The parks were an escape and an anchor to some of my parents’ favorite things like the Indiana Jones ride. We could talk about how much the parks have changed over each of our lifetimes. The movies helped me navigate through friendships and gave me avenues on how to communicate. My parents loved that there were thematic morals stitched into the storytelling. Upon college graduation, the parents of my friend group came together to book us a stay at the Grand Californian Hotel and the “Walk in Walt Disney’s Footsteps” Tour. It was symbolic of a culmination and a commencement all rolled into one. We could see where and how Walt started his vision, and be inspired by the legacy that stood today. Whether it’s a new Disney movie or the weekly fireworks you can see from the I-5 freeway, Disney was and will always be an integral part of my life and identity. It has followed me through the various stages of my life, and I choose to continue to make it a part of my future. A legacy and experience I hope to pass down to my future children one day.

Songs encapsulate moments, summers, a party, or an era in a lifetime. They hold the ability to transport and stop time. Music exists as an avenue to expunge emotion, a coping mechanism, a pep talk, an escape to another world, an inspiration for creativity, and so much more. New Romantics, a bonus track on the 1989 album, is a vibrant, energetic pop anthem that reflects the mindset of young people in the modern era. To me, this song is an expression of the freedom, trials, and unequivocal exuberance of youth. Tradition meets a modern lens, turning old and broken into new and different, with lyrics like “I could build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me.” It provides an identity to cling to when I don’t want to be defined by my mistakes. In moving forward, the momentum makes it harder for the judgments of others to affect me. However, my favorite lyric line of all has to be “the best people in life are free.” It serves as a reminder that the people who resonate with us, who inspire us, often are free-spirited and live life on their terms; they are unburdened by the expectations of others. The second, underlying meaning, I interpreted as saying the most valuable relationships in our lives don’t cost us anything. They are compassionate, irrevocable, universal friendships and relationships that exist to share in the pure joy and misery of the human experience. Chord progressions also tell stories. The verses have a consistent progression of IV, vi, V9, ii7; the inclusion of minor chords gives an aura of mystique, melancholy without despair, and imperfection, but still, hope exists because of the major key and presence of the major IV and V9 chords. The chorus reverts to a variation of a typical pop progression, ii7, IV, I, V. However, ending on a dominant (V) chord rather than a tonic (I) chord, means that we won’t feel quite the same resolution as we expect. The story doesn’t actually stop, it just depends on which page you stop reading; that unfinished, hold-your-breath feeling and catchy tune mimic my own expanding comfort with being uncomfortable to foster growth. This coupled with lyrics like “life is just a classroom” or “We’re too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet” evokes both nostalgia and triumph. After high school, there isn’t a strict laid-out plan. The structural confines that define childhood are removed all at once, leaving behind no training wheels or floaties. Suddenly we’re writing the manuals, wondering “Who let us be in charge?” The imposter syndrome coupled with finding a routine and building structure as we navigate higher education is something few people talk about or prepare young people for. Taylor Swift and her music have carried me through those rocky transitions in life and continue to do so. I decided after graduating college to return to graduate school after working for a few years. It was daunting to leave behind a safety net and security in pursuit of my dream of becoming a doctor. But if we’re getting older anyway, this song taught me that I might as well achieve my dreams as I get older, despite the whisperings of those that doubt me. It helped me channel the voices of those that support me. This idea of embracing risk-taking and imperfections, and finding strength in numbers allows me to romanticize the little things in life—which interestingly is just a version of my mother insisting we celebrate the small victories because they add up to a fulfilled life.

In high school, my heart was set on majoring in biology and going to medical school. However, as circumstances would have it, my father—a very proud engineer—wanted me to follow in his footsteps, like many immigrant parents. So, we compromised, and I majored in biomedical engineering. Throughout my undergraduate studies, I’ve learned that I’m a problem solver and enjoy helping people in my own way. After reflecting, I realized this has been a pattern in my life. In addition to hospital volunteering and working with special needs children, one of my favorites was dancing to raise funds for causes I believed in. I grew up dancing, and my dance company gave us opportunities to tour while raising money for various causes. I’ve been lucky to have opportunities to perform in Japan for tsunami relief in 2011, for children’s festivals to raise money for CHOC, and for military families. I could give back, doing what I loved my way. This is exactly why I took a job offer as an R&D Scientist; I was told that I was the first biomedical engineer an R&D department this site had hired. My goal was to make the position my own by becoming involved in projects I believed in, a trait I bring to every situation I encounter. Meanwhile, I was simultaneously working on forming the beginnings of a start-up with a grant from UCI’s incubator. My teammates and I jumped in the deep end and soon discovered that there are two sides to the world of medicine. In the presence of venture capitalists stood the elephant, “ROI.” Meanwhile, with providers, we were trying to fulfill an unmet need and meet patients where they are. The dichotomy of the two worlds of money and altruism couldn’t be further apart and yet they are so intertwined that it is a part of the very nature of healthcare in America. Somewhere between working for the large company and the start-up, I realized that while I loved being creative and problem solving through technology, I want to see its impact. I enjoyed interviewing doctors and their patients with diabetic foot ulcers for the start-up. It started as market research, but led to relationships with each patient. Market research and medical devices are useful in treatment, but I ultimately wanted to follow this project to the clinic and see how individual patients fared. Unfortunately, industry doesn’t often lend itself to that. I enjoy collaboration and appreciate the teamwork the endocrinologist, podiatrist, and plastic surgeon displayed while discussing the patients with DFUs. Unlike my volunteering experiences in the clinic, being on the ground as a scientist didn’t give us much patient contact. Research is vital to the progress of medicine, but so is the ability to understand and interact with people—in a way that science can be used to treat patients and will be accepted by them. There are many things I wish to accomplish or partake in, in my lifetime. I want to serve patients as an engineer-turned-physician, bringing both avenues of my education to combat misinformation, arm patients with the tools to take control of their health, continue researching, learn from those who came before and mentor those who come after me, and positively impact healthcare policy. Over the course of my career, I will continue advocating for interdisciplinary medicine, healthcare entrepreneurship, health policy shaped by science, and compassionate clinical care, because I am truly passionate about these areas of medicine and believe these avenues can help bridge the delivery-of-care gap for all people.

“Look there’s Mars,” my dad exclaimed as our family stood on the driveway, the telescope set up—not that we needed it that night, with the glow of the red planet brightening the sky. My baby cousin, all of 2 years old, looked up at the sky and put her index finger and thumb apart as if to zoom into the sky. “It doesn’t work that way, you can’t zoom in, in real life,” responded my uncle to his youngest daughter. My baby cousin, Chinmayee, was born in 2010, and the world she’s growing up in is changing so drastically. And yet, our views on mental health as a society have only progressed so far. As a medical student, I hear a lot about mental health and self-care, from administration and faculty members on how to take care of ourselves. I’ve also heard from professors teaching us how to counsel patients, be their advocates, and give them every resource. The roadblocks are just as clear. Access to healthcare in general is difficult for Americans. Access to mental health care, especially that which will be covered by insurance, is even harder to come by. Not to mention, most medical students don’t get to where we are, without our fair share of experiences and encounters with mental health crises. Few and far between proceed through high school or college without either successfully or unsuccessfully talking someone off a ledge. We’ve witnessed our school administrations and the “adults” or in some cases “adultier adults” bury news of the suicide of a classmate who lived in our dorms, or sat two rows in front of us in Chemistry, or ate at the dining hall at around the same time. My father still sits my brother and me down if he catches even a whiff of self-doubt, imposter syndrome, or desperation. He talks to us about our feelings and how we shouldn’t conflate self-worth with school or work. He’ll get this contemplative look on his face and stare straight ahead, as he recalls his college classmate who succumbed to depression and suicide because he failed a class. This is not a conversation we’ve only had once, so clearly it stuck with him, as it sticks with many of us. It impacts all of us, even if we don’t realize it. The most surprising thing about this conversation is that it only came about once my brother was struggling with depression and suicidal ideation (SI). Initially, my dad thought bringing up these conversations might bring exposure and plant ideas in our heads that didn’t exist prior. A train of thought not unlike ones found in many immigrant parents or communities of color. Once the problem arrived on our doorstep, my parents knew we had to address this head-on; but this journey would not be an easy one. When questioned whether I knew, for the first time I had to admit that I knew, but I couldn’t share because it wasn’t my secret. Unbeknownst to me, I had been my brother’s cheerleader, best friend, and support system through this. I hadn’t even begun to process my overwhelmed bandwidth as I stood as his confidant. This battle was more complex than I could have ever anticipated. The most frightening vision was a montage of life without my brother—of every fight that wouldn’t happen, the future family dinners that wouldn’t be the same, him at my wedding, and me at his. However, the most amazing part about mental health being a health problem, is that there are prevention, treatment, and proactive plans that we can implement. As a society, we have come a long way in discussing mental health crises, and still have a long way to go. As a future healthcare provider, I know that with the way our lifestyles are built, mental health issues are only set to rise; however, I have to believe that prevention and treatment are possible, following destigmatization. In the clinic, there are direct ways in which I can identify, counsel, and treat those that suffer from depression and SI, which often stem from varying triggers and life events. However, as I’ve experienced situations with family members and learned more about the public health aspect of the mental health crisis, the evidence vehemently points to the fact that social capital and communities are some of the most effective means of prevention and support. In my short tenure as a medical student, I remember every case of anxiety, depression, eating disorders, and SI. Often the common thread is feeling isolated, othered, and feeling let down by loved ones and community members. This is something I talk about to anybody who will listen because I believe that it’s my responsibility to spread the word, as a concerned citizen for my community, country, and world, and as a future physician. My baby cousin has already come to me, saying she has talked her school friend out of suicide, while, she, herself faces an eating disorder. They are in middle school. As heartbreaking as it is, I’m grateful for the work put in by all those that came before us, which gave her the ability to confide in us by using the appropriate vocabulary to express herself. Additionally, as mental health disproportionately affects those who stand in the intersectionality of marginalized populations, these communities have a clear decline in social determinants of health, which undoubtedly includes mental health. Beyond that, my goal is to help create a world in which we focus on prevention, appropriate treatment, compassionate care, and giving one another the space and tools required to recognize and address mental health issues as they arise. I hope to use my platform as a future doctor to do this, but also as a community member.

My dream is to be a practicing physician, shaping research agendas, advocating for bias-free healthcare policies that benefit all patients, promoting ethical healthcare companies, addressing women's health, and traveling the world; I want to be an author, educator, mentor, executive, and above all physician who serves others.

Math is the purified essence of the human learning process, embedded in logic, order, and surprisingly creative thinking. The pattern recognition involved ascends to a level of abstraction. This abstract pattern hunting is probably the most human of experiences. From the joy of placing perceived objects or persons in categorical boxes, the chase of organized chaos amongst transcendental curiosity culminates in satisfaction. I love math because it provides a sense of logic and order to the world. Its universal rules apply to multiple practical disciplines like physics, which forms the foundations of chemistry which forms the foundation of biology, which allows for the practice of medicine. I’m an engineer currently in medical school; the principles of mathematics determine lab results in patients to understand their diagnosis, implement a treatment plan, and even the likelihood of that plan working. The connections and parallels surprised me. The heart and circulatory system serve as a mechanical, pneumatic pumps; additionally, the lungs work as negative pressure pumps, etc. National Parks made for cheap family vacations growing up—so naturally, it was one of my first definitions of beauty. It was there, I noticed that nature is a series of macrocosms and microcosms within itself. Mathematics’ omniscient presence surpasses the construct of traditional educational disciplines. Fractals exist in waterfalls, trees, and our neural circuitry. Hexagons are geometric shapes found in hives, snowflakes, and raft bubbles. Fibonacci’s sequence is found in pine cones, shells, hurricanes, and even our galaxy. Eclipses stand possible due to this Fibonacci spiral and the sizes of the sun and moon. This mysterious, total symmetry only occurs from Earth’s perspective. Math is miraculous; the ability of humans to comprehend and apply it is arguably one of nature’s marvels. While mathematics may not have been the driving force behind the governing laws of nature, much of how we fathom our context here on earth is enabled by math. The nature around us and certainly the technological world we live in and strive for daily, would not be envisioned or captured without a mathematical framework. Most may not see it as romantic, but to me, math is the stuff of legends. It represents order amongst the chaos, stability, comfort, and predictability with a little spontaneity (although we scientists like to call it entropy). And though we might misinterpret it, math will never lie to us. What could be a more perfect relationship than that?

I was 16-years-old when my family learned my uncle had lung cancer. We were told it was stage IV and he had less than a year to live. As we sprung into action, everyone's workload increased. The adults took shifts with appointments and doctor's visits. My uncle's daughter and I were left in charge of our younger siblings. We packed lunches and drove everyone to and from school. On weekends, we would support our parents in whatever way we could. We saw our parents become patient advocates and caregivers, picking up prescriptions, and tackling the steep learning curve that is cancer-related care. I then realized that the delivery of medical care is so much more nuanced than any of us could have imagined. Sadly, my uncle passed away 9 months later. There are many things I wish to accomplish or partake in throughout my medical career. I want to serve patients, help combat misinformation and arm patients with the tools to take control of their health, continue researching, learn from those who came before and mentor those who come after me, and positively impact healthcare policy. Throughout my career, I will continue advocating for interdisciplinary medicine, healthcare entrepreneurship, health policy shaped by science, and compassionate clinical care, because I am truly passionate about these areas of medicine and believe these avenues can help bridge the delivery-of-care gap for all people. As an MS1 student, I'm exploring hematology/oncology as one of my specialties of interest. Based on these goals, Academic Medicine is where I’d like to practice. Not only is teaching and mentoring more likely in an academic medicine setting, but I can also lead research initiatives and new innovative procedures and technology. Above all, I can still see patients and witness the direct impact of medical practice.

I used to think the only way to help people was to be a doctor. However, as circumstances would have it, my father—a very proud engineer—wanted me to follow in his footsteps, as many immigrant parents want. So, we compromised, and I majored in biomedical engineering. Through the course of my undergraduate studies, I’ve learned that I’m a problem solver and enjoy helping people in my way. After reflecting, I realized this has been a pattern in my life. In addition to hospital volunteering and working with special needs children, one of my favorites was dancing to raise funds for causes I believed in. I grew up dancing, and my dance company gave us opportunities to tour while raising money for various causes. I’ve been lucky to have opportunities to perform in Japan for tsunami relief in 2011, for children’s festivals to raise money for CHOC, and for military families. I could give back, doing what I loved in my way. This is exactly why I took a job offer as an R&D Scientist and Biomedical Engineer. The “best idea in the room wins” policy and the “if you think something is worth fighting for, run with it and prove me wrong” concept helped me flourish. My goal was to make the position my own by becoming involved in projects I believed in. I tapped into my creative side and designed, 3D-printed, prototyped, and developed assays. Simultaneously I was working on a start-up with a grant from UCI’s incubator. My team and I were working on a device for wound healing and won a few school-wide business competitions. Between venture capitalists, physicians, and patients, we were trying to fulfill an unmet need. The dichotomy of the two worlds of money and altruism couldn’t be further apart and yet they are so intertwined that it is a part of the very nature of healthcare in America. I once attended a meeting that a few executives from the business side of the company held with our R&D team about a potential assay for preterm birth. Although the initial data from the proof of concept wasn’t producing significant results, the executives kept pushing for us to keep trying, because, “Every pregnant woman in the country will need it!” This pivotal point made me realize that with my background in industry and as an engineer, I would be able to keep up with technology and advocate for patients on an individual level. I could bridge the disconnect between the industry-leaders and the patients. Somewhere between working for the large company and the start-up, I realized that while I loved being creative and problem-solving through technology, I want to see the impact it leaves. I enjoy collaboration and appreciate the teamwork the endocrinologist, podiatrist, and plastic surgeon displayed while discussing the patients with DFUs. To get more patient contact, I decided to study medicine. Research is vital to the progress of medicine, but so is the ability to understand and interact with people—in a way that science can be used to treat patients and will be accepted by them. Now that I'm in medical school, I see the difference the medical team makes to the patient. For most in the hospital, it is a trying time. So as a student and future physician, if I can help in small ways it makes a large difference. I enjoy explaining the technical jargon to families of patients and engaging with patients to help them become self-advocates. I'm in the room where it happens and can follow each patient's journey as I contribute to their care.