Pathology
The aroma of pumpkin pie drifted from my aunt’s kitchen and infiltrated my nose. Mindlessly, I followed the scent into the room and strode over to the dessert. While seeking a slice, I was suddenly knocked to the ground by my aunt’s springer spaniel. Ruthlessly, he opened his mouth and sank his canines into my cheek as easily as I would have done to the pie.
This was my first experience with an open piece of the human body, and as I rushed to clean the mess, I was transfixed by what was behind my skin. Seeing the swell of blood and torn flesh sparked a flame inside me. It was then I began to fall in love with science and the human body.
But that wasn’t the only flame waiting to be lit.
As a child I loved discovering hidden objects. When my mother and I would go on walks, I would dart back and forth between the edges of the sidewalk, searching for anything I could find on our path: shiny rocks, bottle caps, and even the remains of cigarette butts. Objects, once discarded as trash, were treasures left for me by strangers. The world was a specimen under the microscope: a complex creature that needed to be observed and analyzed for the treasures that it held.
But I wasn’t just an extreme treasure hunter, I also had a memory like a bursting storage bin. It contained everything from the color of the sweater my best friend was wearing on the day we met six years ago, to the names of the feral cats that we fed on our family trip to Hawaii.
As I grew older, I recognized how these details played an important purpose in the bigger picture. As I moved into a photography phase and spent hours every day photographing the world, trying to decipher what would make the best shot. I knew that every detail would influence how the shot would make viewers feel, I just had to decide what I wanted to portray in the image.
Years later I realized that I noticed the details other people might miss simply because I am an only child and a very independent person. Because I didn’t have any siblings to give me the cheat codes to life, discovering them on my own has been a task placed on my shoulders. I had to play through every chapter of my life before I could get an idea of what information was necessary and what could be skipped. If I wanted to disregard certain details, I had to acquire all the information through experiences first.
Sophomore year, I started to make the connection between these traits. I was enrolled in my school’s Honors Human Anatomy class, and at the time, I didn’t think sitting through that fifty-five minute class would have lead me to my future career. However, as I looked into the severed eye of a cow, I finally realized what I want to do.
I want to go into the field of pathology.
A Pathologist diagnoses diseases from individual tissue cells and body fluids. They will need to be someone who can independently notice the small details, recall what each one means, and understand how important they are, or are not, in relation to the big picture. As a pathologist, being detail-oriented can mean the difference between finding cancerous cells in a patient’s intestines, or misdiagnosing them as common bloating.
As I sat having my cheek sewn together on that Thanksgiving, I didn’t think I was going to make a discovery as huge as my future career, but somehow Pathology found a way to engrave itself into my life. Being a Pathologist means doing something that will help patients everywhere and through pathology, I hope to find cures for diseases and develop new ways to provide to patients a high quality of life.