My journey began when I was about ten years old. I Suddenly found myself in a room full of masked people with weird tools and smelly “things”, as I remembered. I watched in awe as the volunteer doctors treated my friends and family, taking away their pain and replacing it with comfort and healing. It was not until then that I knew that whatever magic these masked people possess, I want it.

 

A few months after that very day, I stood helplessly next to my grandfather’s body, watching my family grieve the loss of our beloved “Aboh”.

 

I did not quite understand it then, but I soon learned that his death was caused by a lack of compassion and urgency from the healthcare provider because we were hill tribe people. This prejudice act became more and more apparent to me the older I became, having to later experience it myself as a patient in a hospital.

 

 

 

 

 

The pain of losing my grandfather was compounded by the injustice of the situation. His passing left a void in my heart but ignited a fire that created a burning desire to make a difference.

 

From this point, every visit from the Medical Mission Team became personal to me because I stood there and watched them treat the hill tribe people with respect and compassion at the cost of nothing. This humble act made me realize that pursuing medicine is God’s purpose for me.

 

Today, I am halfway through my pre-med degree with only two more years left before I begin my journey into medical school.