“Adelante, senora” | called out to the short and slender women who stood next to the clinic entrance. Clad in a bright, multicolored, traditional Mayan dress she entered the free, one-day only VIDA clinic hoping to receive medical attention for a headache in a rural part of Guatemala where medical care was more of a luxury than a norm. “Digame de su dolor de cabeza” | said to the patient, asking her to elaborate on her headache. As a medical volunteer, I had been tasked the duty of conducting patient interviews and coming up with differential diagnoses for Dr. Reyes’, the lead physician, final review; an exciting, albeit nerve-racking, responsibility.
The patient reported having diffuse, moderately intense, intermittent headache for several weeks. Her headaches, which were associated with a dry mouth and fatigue, would come on after long days after working under the sun. Having no pharmacy within waking distances, or money to spare, she resorted to using cold compresses to aid with her discomfort. She ate a normal diet, but she admitted to drinking very minimal water throughout the day.
Are these migraines? “I asked Dr. Reyes, the head clinic physician, who had stood behind me supervising the entire patient interview. “Nope. Think harder. You have everything you need” she replied back. As I ran down the list of differential diagnoses I had, one fact kept jumping out to me–this patient was not drinking enough water. “Dehydration headches? ” I shouted out emphatically, looking towards Dr. Reyes for approval. “You got it, Doc. ” she said with a smile on her face.
In an isolated region of another country I had accomplished something I would never forget–made my first clinical diagnosis. Medicine hasn’t always been my passion. When I first attended college, at a local university in Washington, D. C. , I initially began studying civil engineering in hopes of fulfilling my dream of becoming an engineer. A little over a year into my studies, my mother–a short, chubby, full of life character–was found to have multiple, potentially malignant, tumors in her left breast.
In the weeks that my mother went about attaining a final diagnosis my family and I were thrown into a world full of fear, uncertainty and sadness. “What a horrible experience this is” I often thought to myself silently in tears as I was living the experience. My mother, thankfully, was found to have no cancer, but by the end of this ordeal I had become a changed person. I had seen first hand the pain and misery cancer had to offer, and after much self-reflection and a desire to help those who were in similar situations as mine, I decided to dedicate the rest of my life to one thing–fighting cancer.
Chasing my new found passion | decided to change my major to biology and transfer to an institution that would better foster my aspirations of becoming an oncologist. I found just that at the University of Miami. Opting to not apply to medical school immediately after graduating in the fall of 2012 from college was the greatest decision I ever made. I, like most pre-medicine students, thought I knew what a career in medicine was all about. After all, like most, I spent hundreds of hours shadowing a number of physicians and volunteering in hospitals.
It was only through my two year experience as a medical scribe, both in the ER and in an oncology clinic, that I truly understood all the faces of medicine. Medicine, contrary to what I thought prior to my scribing experience, isn’t always glorious. As a scribe I have witnessed many of my patients, both in the ER and in the oncology clinic, die and I have dealt with the emotional toll that it brings. I have sacrificed my social life, family life and often times given up my free time to my work. I have even slept on hospital grounds in an effort to make back-to-back shifts.
Yet, espite seeing and living through the less glorious sides of medicine, I continue to wake up hungry every day to accomplish my dream of becoming an oncologist. Medical school will, undoubtedly, be a challenging and gruesome experience. It will test my will, mental power and commitment to my goals and thanks to my experience as a scribe, I can truly say, with confidence, that I am ready for any obstacles that come my way. The day I receive my first white coat will be the proudest day of my life, and as school begins I will bring my best efforts day in and day out. I owe it to my future patients.