The Waiting Room by Fatima

The Waiting Room by Fatima - February 2024 Scholarship Essay

I stood at the edge of the highest building, or so I imagined, as the window in front of me engulfed the whole city. Behind, I was surrounded by the memories of dark, narrow hallways and cold, overused chairs that squeaked with every jittering motion. Traveling down the hall, I parked myself outside the heavy door labeled with three big block letters I-C-U, as the beeping of machines announced their presence. The square, off-white tiles entertained me as I counted down the seconds for the weekend to end. I soon became overly familiar with the four walls that encapsulated the indescribable tension that my family held. As patients, nurses, and doctors rushed up and down the hallway, I sat observing, feeling useless and holding on to a single wish that I could actually do something.

The waiting room had become an essential part of my life, housing all my anger and questions to which I never seemed to get the answers. I couldn’t comprehend why my weekends had turned into hospital visits or how my grandfather was down the hall being kept alive by machines. My grandfather’s room was constantly filled with nurses, physical therapists, surgeons, and specialists, executing a crucial job while I sat simply observing. With every visit, I grew more impatient because of my inability to serve as a critical resource in my grandfather’s recovery. The waiting room had come to represent my role as a bystander, something I quickly resented and refused to accept.

The waiting room had limited me for far too long, to the point where I knew I had to break the cycle. I had grown to accept that I was not meant to be a person who waits for things to happen. Instead, I aspired to be someone who leads and takes control of a situation. With that, I embraced the idea that my future depended on myself. If I genuinely wanted to, I could become someone that helps others. I set further to accomplish this goal of becoming a valuable asset to others through medicine. Taking steps to obtain my nurse aide certification, I became familiar with the world of patient care. Through my work, I performed essential skills involving activities of daily living and served as a patient companion. By becoming a certified nurse aide, I played a crucial role in the chain of survival, breaking the cycle of being labeled as a bystander.

My passion for medicine never sprouted from a devastating situation but rather the resentment that came from being a spectator. The four walls that surrounded me for a significant portion of my life helped me gain the power to be a valuable asset in a patient’s health. As I revisit the place that inspired my life, my observable 8-year-old self is no longer sitting in a ragged chair but instead standing alongside patients and aspiring to become a registered nurse who continues to make a difference in each patient’s life.