Ever since I was a little girl the hospital was my least favorite place. The hospital smell and the stark decor was unappealing, I have always had an aversion to needles, and at a young age, I had a number of traumatic medical experiences within my family. When I was first born I had trouble breathing as a result of a hole in my heart; when I was 3 my mom’s car was struck by an 18-wheeler and she was in a coma for a number of days; I contracted a respiratory infection and had to be hospitalized with an IV and a paddle taped to my arm; I watched my great-grandma Rosie pass away in the hospital when I was 5; when I was 9, I went to get my blood drawn at the hospital, and a scary nurse with long, pointy, red nails held me down while she searched for the vein to draw the blood; and there was a fateful trip
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This stems from learning the value of respecting others and their cultures because I did not grow up in the states. I grew up in the international community of Wiesbaden, Germany and in the city of Vicenza, Italy because my dad was in the US Army. As a shy child, moving to foreign countries and then at the end of my middle school years moving back to the states, which seemed just as foreign as anywhere else, was a challenge. Thankfully, with the support of my family, my grades never suffered, but it was extremely difficult for me to make friends and to be outgoing in social situations. Unfortunately, the cause for our moving back to the states was the end of my dad’s career with a medical retirement because of the physical and mental stress from serving three tours in the Middle East. After moving back to the states, all of us were faced with the realities of my dad’s health, our decreasing financial situation, and the culture shock of actually living in the states again. I knew that I needed to do anything that I could do to help my family by being able to take care of
This stems from learning the value of respecting others and their cultures because I did not grow up in the states. I grew up in the international community of Wiesbaden, Germany and in the city of Vicenza, Italy because my dad was in the US Army. As a shy child, moving to foreign countries and then at the end of my middle school years moving back to the states, which seemed just as foreign as anywhere else, was a challenge. Thankfully, with the support of my family, my grades never suffered, but it was extremely difficult for me to make friends and to be outgoing in social situations. Unfortunately, the cause for our moving back to the states was the end of my dad’s career with a medical retirement because of the physical and mental stress from serving three tours in the Middle East. After moving back to the states, all of us were faced with the realities of my dad’s health, our decreasing financial situation, and the culture shock of actually living in the states again. I knew that I needed to do anything that I could do to help my family by being able to take care of