Im writing this as I sit in my room listening to the rain fall. Rain is a lot like medicine.

You cant tell

when its going to come, but you know one day it will pour. Im from the great city of New Orleans; we
see our fair share of rain. As long as there are people alive, there will be medical emergencies all
spontaneous as the rain fall. A doctor is a title that is more burdensome than honorary. Its a cross you
carry willingly, for as long as you carry it yours is the responsibility to deal with these emergencies. You
are given the title Doctor not for embellishment of a business card but as a constant reminder every
time you are addressed that when you see a man collapse on the sidewalk you are expected to drop that
cake in your arms and skip your sons birthday party no matter how crummy a person the patient is.
Yours is the pervasive requirement of perpetual awareness in everything you do; this is the reason I
want to be a doctor: I long for responsibility.
My life can be divided into chapters a series of odd-jobs I have completed - restaurant manager,
caregiver, athlete to name a few; and what I have learned over the years is there is no job too small.
Small acts of kindness snowball into mammoths when shifting perspectives. The dependent state of a
patient makes a cup of ice chips become a cup of the most delicious frozen water ever to cupped. I have
no doubts that what you put into life you get back ten-fold, which brings me to the counterargument
there is no job to big.
Anything is possible through faith if you have sufficient amounts. There will not always be medical
protocol for a small town general hospital caring for a terminally lung cancer patient. This is where the
other parts of a doctors job become priority: caring for the emotional and spiritual side of the patient.
The patients are not case studies, and if this woman believes there is a sacred cow that created the
universe it is your obligation to agree with them. The last thing you should do is try to convince her
otherwise. After the countless blood tests and scans you ordered, nothing relaxes the patient more
than the white-coated doctor taking the time to reassure her and comfort her even if it just means a hug
and explaining to the family what each of the numerous drugs you prescribes do.
Medicines changing. This means less time for sitting with patients and more time filling out paperwork.
I dont mind. Ill jump through the hoops, even if it means taking my own time out to make the patient
feel comfortable. When I was a senior in high school I had a triple ligament reconstruction on my knee
performed by Doctor James Andrews. He flew out to his Pensacola clinic after the surgery, and I was
discharged before he returned. The night I was discharged, my father and I stayed in a hotel nearby
before tackling the five hour drive home. As I lied on the sofa, mentally and physically exhausted, I
heard a knock on the hotel door. My dad opened it, but being in the state I was I didnt even bother
looking. Then, I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder; Dr. Andrews had just returned to Birmingham on
his private jet and upon realizing I had been discharged took a chance I was at the nearby hotel. He
hadnt even been home to his wife yet; how a high school varsity-B wrestler, hardly the professional hes
accustomed to treating, was feeling was the pressing issue on his mind at midnight after a long day of
surgeries.
I wish I could start now, but Ive learned to grow excited that tasks remain in the way, that I have hoops
to jump through, terms to memorize, and anatomy to learn. If I could Id start tomorrow, but in the
meantime Ill continue doing everything possible to maximize my chances of possible humble wearing
this white-coat because if I dont do it, some doctor might not do as good of a job as I couldve.