My Heart Was Flawed, I Knew My Weakness

I can't believe I haven't posted anything since May.  Wow--I'm a struggler!  I have been thinking about various things I'd like to write about, but I have been very busy.  I have submitted my application (and $175 processing fee!) to CASPA (Centralized Application Service for Physician Assistants).  I also did the supplemental application required for the University of Utah.  That was a timed essay application, and apparently my last answer didn't save because the timer ran out before I saved it.  *sigh*  So once I do that (again), and the CASPA people verify my grades against the official transcripts I have sent, my application can be reviewed by the U.  They will then decide if I get an interview, and then--well, we will have to wait and see.

The application required a lot of introspection.  I had to enter and classify every course I took in college (including those in high school, so I had to send an official transcript from USU as well).  And not just every course, including the ones I withdrew from, but all of the grades too.  That was pretty depressing.  I also had to enter my entire job history and try to remember my old supervisors' names, dates, hours worked, job descriptions, etc.  That was a little disheartening too, because I have, uh, been around.  I have been employed by Intermountain Healthcare for 11 years now, but I have worked at six different facilities therein.  Yikes.

And, as if that wasn't enough, I had to get letters of recommendation (which I have waived my right to see).  I had three people write them for me: Dr. Ray Price (a surgeon with whom I have worked for several years), McCall, a PA with whom I work regularly, and Chito, my supervisor.  Ray finished his the day after I e-mailed it to him, but I had to nag McCall and Chito a bit.

And the bit that had me the most  preoccupied: the narrative.  It's the place where you get to stand out, and they want something that will really make them remember you--in 5,000 characters or less.  I went through several versions in my brain, several re-writes, and even on the day I submitted the application I was finishing up the edits (final character count: 4,997!).

I'm not incredibly proud of it, but I did try to be honest and eloquent.  I tried not to over-do the road-trip metaphor, though it would have been better if I had shared my actual European road trip adventure.  I'll probably get another chance to apply next year, so I'll have to keep that in mind.

Anyway, here it is: my heart served up on a platter, for complete strangers to read and judge.  I'm happy to share it with you, especially if you actually still read this blog.  If you do, thank you.

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Every life has a few defining moments. Like a cross-country road trip, you start out wandering through side streets and alleyways until you find a road you want to take. Sometimes that road is a slow path; sometimes it's an eight-lane highway. Those moments are the intersections of where you are and where you want to be. Decisions must be made, and the journey must continue one way or the other.

I won't pretend that my journey is particularly special; I have experienced many things common to the human race: school, work, marriage, parenthood, etc.  While these paths are important, they are not what my story is about.  My personal road trip cannot be defined by any long stretch of highway (like the never-ending interstate of parenthood), but my life has been heading in a certain direction; I just didn't realize it until a few months ago.

Let me back up.  The first important intersection I came to was in 1997.  I was granted a scholarship to the University of Utah, as part of the ACCESS program for women in science.  Having chosen that road truly defined my college career and influenced many other choices I have made since. Several of my fellow ACCESS comrades have gone on to become physicians, engineers, teachers, and wonderful stay-at-home mothers.

Once my freshman year was over, I realized that being a science major did not come easily to me.  It seemed that everyone else had moved on, and while I was working hard, I wasn't as successful as I wanted to be. I lost my scholarship, my confidence, and my best friend.  It may not seem significant to anyone else, but my friend dumping me was one of those defining moments. I found out just how fragile my heart was, and how I would have to take this journey alone.

Before I even started college, I had decided to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  I knew that doing so would get me closer to my destination, and help me to become the person I wanted to be.  I spent a glorious year (2000-01) in Belgium and France, teaching and serving every day.  I'll be forever grateful for that time of my life because of everything I learned and the beautiful people I met.

Coming home from Europe was much harder than I had anticipated. I went from being so focused on a different work to having very little direction at all.  I lived at home for a while, trying to figure out how to get back on the interstate.  That's when the most defining moment of my life took place: my brother John died unexpectedly.  My younger brother, the smartest person I had ever known, the boy who grew up at my side challenging and inspiring me, was gone.

It might have been shock, or simply trying to be strong, but it was nearly a week after that terrible day when I finally broke down.  All the pain and loneliness came flooding out, and I realized I had a gaping hole in my soul.  Though time has made the heartache more bearable, the emptiness is still there.  I think of my brother often, and he still inspires me.  He is one of the primary reasons why I want to have a career helping people, and why I want to understand the complexities of the human body.

In an effort to heal and move on, I came back to the U in 2003.  I tried to find my place in the world; I even flirted with the idea of changing majors.  English, French, teaching, and even Political Science all sounded good at some point, since those classes were significantly easier for me.  But as an ACCESS girl, I wanted to complete my degree in a science major, and I knew I wanted to work in health care.  I finally completed my Bachelor's in 2007, and I found a second home working in surgery.  For a long time, those two roads (education and work) ran parallel to one another, never really intersecting.  

While working in surgery, I learned what PAs do, how they are educated, and how they interact with doctors.  The idea of becoming a PA appealed to me immediately.  The demands of my family (especially my autistic son), along with the financial burden and time commitment make medical school an impossibility, but I feel like I could be very successful in a PA program.  I have thought about nursing, but I know I would prefer a graduate program that would give me practical skills, knowledge and insight.  I also want a career that will allow me to work in surgery, even if it's just part of the time.

After thinking about applying for several years, I attended the UPAP information session in April 2013.  This was another defining moment.  It felt like I had seen a sign: this is the road I want to take.  I believe that my entire journey--my whole life--has been leading me here to this very application, and I am grateful and excited for this opportunity.

I admit to being a bit anxious; I don't know how I will stand up to the competition, but I truly hope you understand how much I want to become a Physician Assistant.  Thank you for your consideration, and I hope our paths will cross soon.