Ive wanted to be a doctor since I was six. That was the form my father lost his leg in a knockout car accident and spent three months in the Tarrytown reclamation Hospital. I was exceptionally close to my dad and accompanied my go to visit him whenever we were allowed. While the initial site of my father in a staid, strange-smelling environment was frightening, I realized quickly that the fix was positive and profuse of good energy. This place and these people dressed-up in white were going to help my father sterilise better. I couldnt imagine anything more wonderful.
My visits to my dad werent limited to his put on or to the hospital lobby. I accompanied him to his physical therapy sessions and cheered him on as he regained strength in his upper arms. I watched while he learned to operate a wheelchair and and was amazed to see him actually walk with the aid of a prosthetic leg. I believed that every(prenominal) doctor who helped my dad was a holy man and that they couldnt possibly do anything more rewarding with their lives.
When I denote to my family that year that I wanted to be a doctor, they survey it was cute. No one realized the epiphany I had at the reclamation facility. But Ive worked hard for the past twelve years with the resolute goal of becoming a physician.
Ive successfully completed every honors class in science and math that my school offers. Ive entered (and placed) in every science fair in the state with entries that go out the effect of physical therapy on the recovery of athletic injuries. I remain fascinated by the human body and its scarce ability to repair itself.
Two years ago I began volunteering at the Tarrytown Rehabilitation Facility, where my father...
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