I have always loved art. I struggled with my classes through elementary and middle school due to my dyslexia. I always had passions, but bad teachers constantly wrecked my confidence, and my dreams felt unreachable. However, it only took one teacher to show me that I could apply my art to my school work, my goals and use it as a tool for my learning setbacks. Using my art to create in-depth notes and diagrams helped my grades, confidence, and understanding of myself and class materials. My long-term goals have always consisted of medicine and science. I will follow my medical dreams well, using my art to teach myself and others.

Fauci lay skinned on the metal table, ventral side up, tongue drooped to the side. Grasping the scalpel in my hand, I made a small incision, cutting through the abdominal muscles to create a hole small enough to fit my scissors. Clutching the cold metal scissors, I inserted them gently in the slit I had just created. Clamping down and moving distally, I cut straight through the rectus abdominis of Anthony Fauci. Sure, in this case, she was a black cat who had been abandoned, left to science, and later comically named by my cat-loving anatomy teacher. But, to me, she was my first patient, an utter fascination and a comfort. I stood alone with my teacher, dressed in full PPE, elbows deep in a dead cat. As I respectfully explored the abdominal and thoracic cavity, I felt euphoric. Mystification and fascination flooded my whole being as I sliced through the pericardium, lifted the liver, and explored the intestines. All aspects of this small creature's body thrilled me, filling me with questions, igniting my passions, and enhancing the previously two-dimensional diagrams into my head. As I shifted the intestines to view the inferior vena cava, I came to discover two swollen uterine horns. Curious, I lightly massaged it with my fingers. I discovered three small but very present lumps on each side. I shifted my feet with excitement, and cut into the chamber. Funky odorous liquids drained from my previously desiccated patient. Nonetheless, I was invested. Eagerly I stuck my gloved finger into the hole, hunting for the mass. Suddenly, out popped a semi-translucent nugget-sized sack. Using my fingers, I tore the pouch off the bundle to discover a boney tail, two black crumb-sized eyes, and the tiniest structures imaginable. I had just single-handedly delivered Anthony Fauci's first child.

Currently, I work at D'Youville Life & Wellness Community in Lowell, Massachusetts, as a Dinning Aid. D'Youville is a retirement community specializing in dementia and Alzheimer's care. Following specialized diets and requests, I help serve meals to residents, occasionally aiding in cutting, sitting and standing, and ordering. As an employee, I participate in specialized training to better understand the aging brain, all of which help me to be of better service to my residents and those around me. During the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic, I went room to room (rather than a dining room setting) to serve each resident, doing my best to offer as much comfort and cheer in each quick minute. Taking even a second to hear the stories of those before me has been an enriching experience. I learn from their stories, and they often beg to assist me with mine; from math class to first dates, I apply every detail of advice. Working at D'youville has opened a scientific door I never expected to find fascinating and continues to build vital relationships. I am eager to learn more through my work and higher education on the wonders of Alzheimer's and geriatrics.

I pushed the squeaky lopsided cart through the winding aisles of the grocery store, searching for my perfect snack; it was a crisp fall day at the start of October, which meant one thing, Halloween marketing had commenced. Making my way down the cookie aisle, I finally came across the chocolate wafer cookies with the orange holiday-themed filling. A dainty and delectable treat that most have grown up with, nostalgia flooding the brain with every crunch. "Milk's Favorite Cookie," continued to bring me unbelievable joy. The Oreo, specifically the seasonal Halloween cookie that featured five different designs and an impeccably vibrant orange frosting, was waiting for me shelves ahead. Seizing the perfectly crinkling plastic box, I took my time to read the added information, admiring the cartoon skeleton with a smile. When observing the enlarged depiction of the goody, I became horridly aware that illustrated arrangements from all my previous years were no longer present. The formerly visionary cookies were replaced with a seemingly regular and unquestionably sad everyday Oreo. Outraged, I immediately took on the endeavor of solving a problem that lacked the attention it deserved. Documenting my feelings in an in-depth essay, I expressed the atrocities of the crime on the company's complaint page, praying for the revocation of such a modification. Needless to say, after numerous consultations with the company, my determination paid off. The raised portraits were welcomed back onto the seasonal cookie. Although I can never confirm if my actions truly sparked a change, my appreciation of details, even in the simplest things is a personal value I work to integrate into all environments. Taking a second to appreciate the world around us and express gratitude makes a community a sounder and a more trusting place.