Unlike Ella, I was not born healthy. Limited food, war, and lack of medical care pushed my parents into a difficult decision. Vietnam was the country they loved, but as the years passed my condition worsened. America carried a promise they had to pursue.
As low-income immigrants, gaining access to medical care was painful and humiliating. If it wasn't the hand-me-down clothes that tipped people off, it was our blue charts that labeled us as Medi-Cal patients. At age 8, I remember translating "irregular periods and cramps" to my mother's doctor. I am not sure what was harder, seeing my mother's shame or trying to speak to a doctor disgusted with my broken English. Once, I watched my father argue about payment as I sat in an ER with my finger sliced in half. Unable to understand his English, the ER staff was patronizing in the face of my father's desperation.
From these experiences, I decided to become the doctor I never had; one who treats all of her patients equally and honors each as individuals. To realize this dream, I run with every opportunity available. By getting a full scholarship to the Branson School, taking on a rigorous curriculum and forming meaningful relationships with my teachers I have been fortunate to achieve things not normally available to my community.
With lots of help and hard work, I landed an internship that threw me into the medical world. I interned with a pediatrician, OB/GYN, and a surgeon. At first, one baby ear looked like the next, but soon I could discern healthy from a potential problem. With the surgeon, I scrubbed in and assisted. I still can't believe he taught me to stitch. Bringing Ella into the world with the OB/GYN was mind blowing, but my most moving experience was one many would think insignificant.
One day, a Vietnamese family came in with a sick baby. They spoke no English, and their chart was flagged Medi-Cal. As I spoke, I could see relief spread across Mr. Nguyen's face. Their baby was going to be okay and through me the doctors were able to communicate with the family respectfully. That day, I got a taste of the kind of doctor I could become. Before, the ability to speak Vietnamese was an impediment, now I could use it to help make a sick child well.
In my journey from Vietnam to the birth of Ella I learned the practice of medicine is a privilege. I hope to one day combine my own experiences with a medical degree so I can be awarded many more smiles of relief like the one I was so fortune to receive from Mr. Nguyen.
