The Asymptote of My Life by Angel

The Asymptote of My Life by Angel - June 2020 Scholarship Essay

“You can’t ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving.” This is a quote by Paul Kalanithi, a neurosurgeon who encounters death face-to-face when he is diagnosed with stage IV metastatic lung cancer and unravels the complexities and motifs of life through the eyes of a dying man in his autobiography When Breath Becomes Air. To reemphasize what Kalnithi says, we can never reach perfection, however that word is defined in terms of our individual lives. However, we can strive towards an asymptote, a goal that is worthy of achieving. As a young Asian-American woman of immigrant parents, it was expected of me to aim for the highest possible, whether it is in academics or extracurriculars. But there comes a time in every young person’s life where they must encounter this deafening and uncomfortable question: What do you want to be when you grow up? My answer was perpetually ingrained into my mind by my parents, and that was to become a doctor. Yes, the stereotypical Asian doctor. In addition to my parents’ direction, I always had a high aptitude and inclination towards science and mathematics, so it seemed like another obvious personal reasoning behind my answer. I feel as though I thrive in STEM-related fields, and the gripping information of the human body and its biochemical processes is what draws me towards a career in science. However, there is always the follow-up question of why a doctor. Initially, my answer has always been because I enjoy helping others, which is, without a doubt, true. My life has always been surrounded by service and giving back, whether through tutoring English to students who have fallen behind, packing and distributing care packages to the homeless, or volunteering at a hospital every week to ensure patients are heard beyond their medical attention. However, as I got older, my answer to why a doctor has gradually been fine-tuned.

Almost every year, my parents and I will travel to Myanmar, my parents’ home country. Myanmar is a developing country in Southeast Asia, which you can instantly tell once you step into the country. The wealth disparity is seen everywhere you go, like images of run-down shacks and houses built side-by-side large apartments and malls. After visiting Myanmar for over ten years, you could say I’ve gotten to know the country better, even including the healthcare system that my family has unfortunately frequently encountered. I’ve seen and been inside many hospitals and clinics. I’ve been inside a hospital that was so pristine and immaculate that I would have mistaken it for a hotel if my grandfather were not lying in a hospital bed in front of me. I’ve been inside a clinic that was the size of my bathroom in New York when my dad’s temperature spiked overnight. There was barely any room for the doctor to examine my dad, and the small pharmacy took up two-thirds of the clinic. I remember sitting on the colorful plastic stools in the “hallway” of the clinic, the dry air of the fan overhead blasting on me, thinking to myself, this is the clinic my aunt recommended?

In addition to the fact that the healthcare industry disproportionately favors those with far more wealth than the average Burmese citizen, the myths and misunderstandings of health and wellness perpetuated Burmese society, even my own family. One summer in Myanmar, my cousins were having a sleepover at my apartment. We were taking turns showering in the morning as we got ready for our day out together. As my cousin got out of the shower, I asked her why she hadn’t washed her hair. She replied with the answer, “Well, it’s that time of the month!” I was baffled with her reply until later on; I realized that most of the women in my family would not wash their hair during the week of their menstrual cycle because it correlates with adverse effects on one’s health. Another myth surrounding the female menstrual cycles that I’ve heard is that eating bitter foods or taking long showers will prevent one from getting her monthly menstruation and cause early-onset menopause. Or sleeping with wet hair will cause a stroke. While these are only a few examples of erroneously-based misunderstandings about health that I’ve learned through my family and friends, there are probably even more horrific medical misconceptions in the Burmese community.

To answer why a doctor, why study medicine, I want to not only help people who have fallen ill or provide diagnoses but also encourage my Burmese community to take charge of their health and seek better means of healthcare. I hope to one day have a clinic in Myanmar that provides affordable outpatient services and helps educate patients about their health. I want to be able to use my experience and education from a rapidly-developing first world country and help implement change and reform in Myanmar’s healthcare system. I do recognize that changing an entire country’s system cannot fall on one person and cannot change overnight. I am not looking to achieve perfection in this system, but I am looking forward to being a part of the movement towards better healthcare and public health in Myanmar by doing my role as a future doctor. I believe that is my asymptote towards which I ceaselessly strive.