Yes, I am her mother, so I know I am completely biased. But she is beautiful both inside and out. My little girl loves her whole family. But she is especially close to her father - literally Daddy's Little Girl. And her father has terminal lymphoma. With all her talent and abilities, she could choose to be anything she wanted to be. Bryanna wants to be a doctor. Let her tell you why, in her own words, taken from the essay she wrote last night:
I want to be a
doctor. I know that being a doctor is considered a dream job by many people,
but my reasons for this desire are far different from most. Often, people want
to be doctors because they want the ‘big bank’ and they assume the life of a
doctor is the same as what they see on Grey’s Anatomy; but I’m different. While
many have seen the amazing effects of medicine from a distance, my life is full
of examples. My dad is riddled with cancer.
When I was twelve,
young, bright, and carefree, I received a call from my mom. She explained to me
that Dad was very ill, in a critical situation in the hospital, and that the
doctors have no idea what is wrong with him. Fortunately, he recovered from the
scare because of medicine and the combined work of the doctors, but
unfortunately, weeks later after critical analysis of his illness, the doctors
diagnosed him with an extremely rare cancer: Angioimmunoblastic T-cell
lymphoma. I know that’s a mouthful and most people think that all cancers are
alike, but this cancer is so rare that the doctors in Arizona couldn’t diagnose
him without sending his biopsy screens to high-tech research hospitals around
the country. In ten years, only one hundred people were available with this
specific cancer for a research study. And this means that there is no cure.
Literally. No chemotherapy, no radiation, no magic wave of the wand. Nothing.
The doctors told him that he was going to die in two years without a doubt. Of
those one hundred people who had this cancer that I mentioned earlier,
absolutely none lived longer than two years after diagnosis.
I am now sixteen,
four years later. My dad still watches my soccer games, still holds my hand,
and still hugs me goodnight to this day. Maybe he can’t go running or even go
on a rollercoaster, but he can love his family and support us. His cancer will
never disappear and it will eventually kill him, but it is an absolute miracle
that he survives two years later than his death sentence. He scares us
sometimes; his immune system is virtually destroyed so the smallest flu or
infection might have traumatic affects, but he always stays. Thanks to
medicine.
When I saw for myself
that he was here to stay, I felt the most incredible and wonderful feeling I’ve
ever experienced in my life. A warm calm enveloped my heart, and I cried tears
of pure joy. I want everyone to feel that same feeling, that feeling of
complete joy, innocent and overwhelming and pure and beautiful. And I
have the power to make others feel this way if I become a doctor. So I’ve
decided.
Instead of being
depressed over this terrible ordeal, I opened my eyes. I worry that at any
moment his cancer could come back and this time stop his heart, but I realize
that I am extremely lucky and that others have far, far worse troubles than I
do. This experience gave me wonderful outcomes: a stronger family, an
optimistic attitude, and a passion for medicine. Nothing will stop me from
achieving my dream. And when my father eventually deceases, I will only work
harder to save the patients’ lives and the emotions of their families. So, yes,
I want to become a doctor, but not for the reasons of everyone else. Not for
the money or the status or the pride, but for the emotion and the feeling and
the joy. For love. For my dad.
