When I was younger I never knew the wealth of possibilities that came alongside a D.O. degree, and my interest in Osteopathic Medicine was firmly solidified with my interaction with countless Osteopathic physicians while working at Baptist Hospital of Miami as a ED physician scribe. Having worked with both DO and MD physicians I can say, with certainty, that the way in which DO physicians, in particular, Dr. Alexa Viloria, a Ohio University Heritage College of Osteopathic Medicine alumni, handled patients, considering the interconnectedness of the human body, is what makes them such effective healers. It is by taking into account various bodily functions, and how they are connected and dependent on each other that DO physicians are able to
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Troughs, which contain within them, something so much more powerful. In the recesses of those lines, invisible to the naked eye, exists a first and last name. Daniel Lasprilla. Daniel, passed away at the tender age of 23. It seems almost laughable that someone could pass away at 23. An age in which you 're finally thrust into the world. A time in which you should be planning trips half-way-round the world. An age in which you fall in love. An age in which you have your whole life in front of you. But his passing came in that very golden age. And in the moments following his death, in those moments, that at a glimpse seem ordinary, mundane, perfunctory, in those same moments, that subsume even the wildest of imaginations, I couldn’t seem to find any closure. I saw the world around me and was disillusioned. Even my dream of becoming a doctor, after this tragedy, seemed to lose all luster.
As I settled into a quiet existence, relationships, much like my school work, were neglected. And as the mercury dropped, my heart froze. I soon became an ice queen, the condensation left my lips in wisps even on the warmest of days. Nevertheless, medicine, was the mistress I could never resolve to leave, a whisper on winter nights that left me uneasy. And though I had other interests, other talents, none were enough. Nothing ever seemed to be enough. Medicine
Troughs, which contain within them, something so much more powerful. In the recesses of those lines, invisible to the naked eye, exists a first and last name. Daniel Lasprilla. Daniel, passed away at the tender age of 23. It seems almost laughable that someone could pass away at 23. An age in which you 're finally thrust into the world. A time in which you should be planning trips half-way-round the world. An age in which you fall in love. An age in which you have your whole life in front of you. But his passing came in that very golden age. And in the moments following his death, in those moments, that at a glimpse seem ordinary, mundane, perfunctory, in those same moments, that subsume even the wildest of imaginations, I couldn’t seem to find any closure. I saw the world around me and was disillusioned. Even my dream of becoming a doctor, after this tragedy, seemed to lose all luster.
As I settled into a quiet existence, relationships, much like my school work, were neglected. And as the mercury dropped, my heart froze. I soon became an ice queen, the condensation left my lips in wisps even on the warmest of days. Nevertheless, medicine, was the mistress I could never resolve to leave, a whisper on winter nights that left me uneasy. And though I had other interests, other talents, none were enough. Nothing ever seemed to be enough. Medicine