Forced Reflections
So it's nice to be forced to write about your experiences when you've got an assignment due in 2 hours...maybe writing under pressure is the way to go:
As I already mentioned, my family background has been a major influence upon my interest in healthcare. When I went to the Philippines in 2009, I had the opportunity to take part in a one-day medical mission organized by family members in both the United States and the Philippines. This was the first time that I had seen healthcare in action under a setting drastically different setting than a hospital or a clinic. I remember not knowing what to expect on that January morning, a forty minute van ride took me into a community outside of the main town to an elementary school. Three hundred parents and children gathered under the sunshade of the outdoor auditorium, and I followed the doctors and nurses to the tables and chairs that would be their makeshift stations for the day.
And honestly, I was terribly nervous. Even though I personally would not be diagnosing them, I knew that for many this would be the only medical care that they would receive for a whole year, and I wanted to do everything I could to ensure that their experience was meaningful and worthwhile. The part of the Philippines that we were in speaks a more specialized dialect than the national language; but even though there were many instances that the communication between the patient and me would take on a signing, non-verbal, half-spoken language, I could tell that for many, simply listening to their stories was a treatment that I could give to them in my small way.
As I already mentioned, my family background has been a major influence upon my interest in healthcare. When I went to the Philippines in 2009, I had the opportunity to take part in a one-day medical mission organized by family members in both the United States and the Philippines. This was the first time that I had seen healthcare in action under a setting drastically different setting than a hospital or a clinic. I remember not knowing what to expect on that January morning, a forty minute van ride took me into a community outside of the main town to an elementary school. Three hundred parents and children gathered under the sunshade of the outdoor auditorium, and I followed the doctors and nurses to the tables and chairs that would be their makeshift stations for the day.
And honestly, I was terribly nervous. Even though I personally would not be diagnosing them, I knew that for many this would be the only medical care that they would receive for a whole year, and I wanted to do everything I could to ensure that their experience was meaningful and worthwhile. The part of the Philippines that we were in speaks a more specialized dialect than the national language; but even though there were many instances that the communication between the patient and me would take on a signing, non-verbal, half-spoken language, I could tell that for many, simply listening to their stories was a treatment that I could give to them in my small way.
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