Shandy Williamson - The University of Central Florida My Heavy Metal Code to Healing I listen closely to the sounds of my grandfather plucking his bass guitar, my father shredding on electric, and my uncle Aaron's vocals echoing from a small, hand-built wooden shed on a dirt road surrounded by trailer homes. I stand beside my grandmother, tapping her foot, watching my family express emotions only Heavy Metal and unlock. Most of my early years were spent traveling to surprise rock and metal concerts at Camping World Stadium in Orlando, Florida. To get there, my grandfather would call every Friday, hoping to be the 9th caller on 97 K-Rock for free tickets. Heavy metal was more than music for my family it was our outlet. It gave us a way to process financial struggles, health hardships, and general chaos of life. When I lost all contact with my mother at 14, I turned to guitar with no formal lessons. Slowly, in jamming with my father and grandfather, I built a connection with them that words could not fully express. The vibration of those strings felt like a secret language, a pulse of resilience, pain, and love. The anatomy of my dream to study health sciences was forged by witnessing loved ones battle cancer, undergo surgeries, and push through chronic illnesses while still serving others. The same resilience I saw in my family through music mirrored the resilience I saw in their fight for life. I earned my Associate's Degree before graduating high school, through dual enrollment at Florida SouthWestern State College. Education, much like music, became an "escape", however I've come to realize it's not just a form of escapism. Both are tools of transformation. They serve as a means of stepping away from stressors and positively reflecting on them. Only 10.8% of current NIH research funding focuses on diseases that uniquely or disproportionately affect women. This medical research gap is unacceptable and it fuels me. I am actively pursuing clinical research opportunities focused on improving outcomes for women, using hormonal profiles, genetic markers, and clinical data to better understand disease progression and treatment responses. This scholarship would directly fund my ability to design and conduct research on this topic, bridging a gap that is long overdue for change. Financially, I rely entirely on federal aid and my own income. I currently work two jobs as an overnight medical scribe in the emergency department and a daytime unpaid medical assistant at an internal medicine practice. Between classes, I volunteer at a clinic for uninsured patients, a cause close to me being that I, too, am uninsured. My lived experiences aren't obstacles they are my inspiration. I understand our patients because I am them. Additionally, I do not receive financial support from my family. I am responsible in paying for tuition, textbooks, lab fees, food, rent, and transportation on my own. During my freshman year, I was both a full time student and a full time employee. The buenout was real, academically and mentally. But given this time, I mastered time management, learned to prioritize, and proved that I could withstand pressure without cracking. Still, the financial strain is relentless. I am the product of a hardworking, lower class family who embodies the core philosophy of Heavy Metal: defy the odds, scream your truth, and fight like Tony lommi. I am the first of my lineage to pursue higher education, and I will become the first doctor. I carry the battle scars of generational poverty, inadequate healthcare access, and family substance abuse, but furthermore I carry the relentless drive to break from those chains. I am dedicating my life to advancing healthcare through research for underserved populations like the one I come from. Medicine is my stage. Science is my amplifier. Metal, that's my outcry.

My mind clicked into focus as I grabbed the next patient's folder "You're going to need two masks, good luck," a more experienced coworker scoffed, barley hiding her disdain. I looked over to find that behind her a glass window acted as the only separation between that comment and the patient. An elderly man sat alone, sniffling and avoiding eye contact, his eyes traced the tiled clinic floor. In that moment, I reminded myself of the importance of humility in healthcare. It was my first day working unpaid as a medical assistant intern. Rather than allowing the comment to influence my attitude and perception, I chose to lead with empathy. Walking into the lobby waiting area I held a warm smile and greeted the patient, leading him to Exam Room 1. As we entered the room, he immediately began apologizing "I'm sorry I took a nap earlier... and this bag on my stomach... I had to get a ride. I know I smell terrible..." His voice trailed off. I could sense his embarrassment and discomfort. Suppressing any frustration from my coworker's words, I focused entirely on the patient. I kept a compassionate tone and reassured him, "I appreciate your honesty. Don't feel ashamed we all have hard days. I'm just happy to see that you came into the clinic today." He looked up at me with glassy eyes, and I began to realize how much these simple words meant to him. That moment of connection opened the door for deeper conversation. He confided in me about his struggles with home care, and I later was able to work with the team and bring attention to this patient. Together, we coordinated a referral that could better meet his wound care needs. To some, this might seem like a routine clinical encounter. To me, it was a very significant experience. Being a humble care provider means treating every person with dignity, no matter their circumstances. To feel that being humble is not just a task but a mindset. I believe that when patients are met with humility, they are more likely to trust providers, share important information, and ultimately receive better care. This experience reinforced my belief that humility isn't just about a sense of quiet confidence, it's about active listening, sincere empathy, lifting others up, and leading by example, even when others don't. That day, I didn't just meet expectations, I chose to embody the kind of provider I aspire to be everyday.

Healthcare chose me when my grandmother was diagnosed with stage III colon cancer four years ago. I had no plans of going to college or any knowledge of how to apply, but that changed when I began to see my education as a privilege. Instead of listening to classic rock on the way to school each morning with her, I started walking and making sure to text her before I made it inside to wish her a good day, knowing she would experience pain for the next week after her chemo appointment. During my junior year, I was introduced to a three-year Biomedical program through Biotility at UF, where I excelled and completed the program within two years. This accomplishment inspired me to do more research into further education. However, I was stopped in my tracks when the question arose, "How will I afford college?" This led me to discover that my high school had a dual enrollment partnership with Florida SouthWestern State College. Over the course of my last two years at LaBelle High School, I earned over 60 credit hours through dual enrollment. The mile-long walks to that small college building ultimately helped me earn my Associate’s degree at no cost. Knowing my family did not have the finances to support my education, I made do with what I was dealt and found programs like dual enrollment to support me. Despite not having family or friends to seek guidance from, I pushed through and applied to several universities in Florida. I was accepted to seven universities with my application, and out of those, I chose the University of Central Florida to study Health Sciences on the pre-clinical track. After graduating in Spring 2027, I plan to apply to medical schools and eventually focus on neurological and oncological health. I also plan to make healthcare more accessible in my small community. LaBelle has one small family clinic that only serves certain illnesses due to financial constraints, as well as a lack of equipment and staff. Many patients with cancer and chronic illness must drive themselves an hour into the next town to receive treatment and checkups. By finishing my education, I hope to bring a new clinic to serve people like my grandmother. When already worried about one's health, the last thing they should have to think about is whether they can make it to their treatment center. With your support, I can continue to pay for my education at the University of Central Florida and serve my community.