I was clearing up space on my old computer when I found a copy of my Personal Statement. I’m a little embarrassed that I wrote such a pat, generic piece — having written about empathy and compassion and humanity (pretty much the topics everyone talks about) — but after getting over the initial “Cheeze” factor of it, it’s actually not that bad. It’s still cheezy, but I can accept it because my reasons for wanting to be a doctor are detailed honestly.

Anyway, here it is (don’t fear the cheeze… and try not to laugh… too much):

Explain your motivation to seek a career in MEDICINE. Discuss your philosophy of the medical profession and indicate your goals relevant to the profession.

The healthcare system in America is in trouble. According to a recent Newsweek article, over the last 15 years, more than 350 emergency rooms and over 300 hospitals across the country have shut down due to bankruptcy. Over this same 15-year period, emergency room visits have increased by an estimated 22 million, while overall hospital admissions have increased by almost 5 million. This has ultimately led to a shortage of hospital beds, and overtaxed ER doctors nationwide. Even more distressing, many ERs see only a 30% reimbursement rate for all the billable work they do, and rely heavily on county tax subsidies and tax-payer-assisted Medicaid to help keep them afloat.

Considering that these problems will continue to get worse, causing even more problems for doctors as time goes on — increased workloads, longer hours, decreased compensation, and the ever-present threat of being sued for malpractice — deciding to become a doctor has never been quite so daunting. Inevitably, I start asking myself, “Why, exactly, do I want to be a doctor?”

When I was four years old, my pre-kindergarten class had a show-and-tell in which we all talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up. When it was my turn, I instinctively replied that I wanted to be a doctor. Being one appealed to me. Doctors were these mysterious strangers who went out of their way to comfort and heal people in pain and need, and as a four-year-old, their acts of compassion made me want to emulate them. Fast forward six years, and I’m lying on a hospital bed in the emergency room waiting to be seen by a doctor. It wasn’t for anything serious, just a stupid accident, but I had landed, chest-first, onto an exposed nail and had to get stitches for the long, diagonal gash. I was scared. I was ten years old and had never had stitches before, so naturally I began to dread what would surely involve a sharp needle, some thread, and a whole lot of pain. But when the doctor arrived, he sensed my fear and kindly explained every bit of the procedure to help calm me down, and gradually I was reassured that everything was going to be okay.

Being able to comfort patients is one of a doctor’s greatest gifts and stems from his ability to empathize with and feel for his patients’ suffering. It is a doctor’s empathy that lets him find meaning and purpose in what is otherwise a frustrating mess of exhausting schedules, bureaucracy, sickness, and death. And it is a doctor’s concern for his patients which makes him soldier on, even after accepting that problems with healthcare will only get worse.

That moves me, motivates me.

And as I sit here, meditating on the initial question of why this career, I’m not thinking about the struggles I’ll have to go through as a doctor. Instead, I’m thinking about the multitudes of people who will need doctors to treat and comfort them as the American healthcare system worsens. My desire to help these people, to alleviate their pain and allay their fears, trumps whatever hardships I’ll have to go through to become a doctor. I believe I’ve inherited the most precious gift a prospective doctor can have: compassion, and I intend to use it to help as many people as I can.