Sometimes it's not about money.....
When I first thought about going to college, I had the stars in my sights. I had grandiose plans to be rich, successful, have the perfect life and the perfect family. I was going to graduate, get an amazing job, have a beautiful home; and pretty much have a life like someone had on television. I started my freshman year as a Business Administration major. I was at school on a full academic scholarship; but was emotionally unprepared for the demands of Honors college courses. Plus, I was miserable. I hated business. Hated numbers, economics, and math. I loved to read. I loved to write. I loved music, and art, and literature. I took a semester off, "found myself", and went back as an English major. It was a completely different experience that time. I actually enjoyed going to class and learning.
To my everlasting regret, I gave up college for marriage. I packed up and moved across the country and began a new life as a wife. I focused on making sure everyone around me was successful, rather than focusing on myself.
I tried to go back a second time; this time in an Adult Studies program, still thinking that I wanted to teach English. I had gotten a job working in health care, but hadn't quite fallen in love with it. As the years went by, however, my fascination with health care and helping people grew stronger and stronger. I went from working in an outpatient rehab facility with physical therapists, occupational therapists and speech therapists; to working in pediatrics. By then, I was really hooked. After a several years in pediatrics, I moved to family medicine.
Until I worked with people that were in such broad ranges of economic, social, and educational ability; I never knew how disparate things were. I went from a pretty "insulated" job where I saw some of the bad, to seeing people have to make the choice between food and medicine.
A light finally came on. I had always wanted to teach, but not in the school system. Now I had a venue. I had a fire in me to fight for people. To help them. To show them that there are people that actually care. People have so little knowledge sometimes of the help that is available to them; and it gives me a sense of being a superhero. When I get a thank you note written in the shaking hand of a 87 year old woman, who I helped get free insulin so she didn't have to skip her medicine because she couldn't afford it. The pink bracelet given to me by a patient who was a Nurse anesthetist in the Korean War. I just happened to wear it for the first time and her daughter came in that day to tell me that she'd passed away the night before. The elderly man who recorded a CD of him telling stories, because he wanted someone to be able to listen to them before he couldn't remember them anymore. Seeing my patient who had a tracheotomy and can't speak anymore stop by my desk every time he comes in and gives me a handful of hard candy. Having a little old lady with paper thin skin and trembling hands pat my cheeks and tell me "I love you".
I know that I could certainly make more money doing something else. But sometimes it's not about money. Sometimes it's about your heart, and your soul, and your passion. Sometimes helping others is more important than financial gain. Sometimes fighting for those who can't fight for themselves, an advocating for those who have no advocate is the best job of all.
To my everlasting regret, I gave up college for marriage. I packed up and moved across the country and began a new life as a wife. I focused on making sure everyone around me was successful, rather than focusing on myself.
I tried to go back a second time; this time in an Adult Studies program, still thinking that I wanted to teach English. I had gotten a job working in health care, but hadn't quite fallen in love with it. As the years went by, however, my fascination with health care and helping people grew stronger and stronger. I went from working in an outpatient rehab facility with physical therapists, occupational therapists and speech therapists; to working in pediatrics. By then, I was really hooked. After a several years in pediatrics, I moved to family medicine.
Until I worked with people that were in such broad ranges of economic, social, and educational ability; I never knew how disparate things were. I went from a pretty "insulated" job where I saw some of the bad, to seeing people have to make the choice between food and medicine.
A light finally came on. I had always wanted to teach, but not in the school system. Now I had a venue. I had a fire in me to fight for people. To help them. To show them that there are people that actually care. People have so little knowledge sometimes of the help that is available to them; and it gives me a sense of being a superhero. When I get a thank you note written in the shaking hand of a 87 year old woman, who I helped get free insulin so she didn't have to skip her medicine because she couldn't afford it. The pink bracelet given to me by a patient who was a Nurse anesthetist in the Korean War. I just happened to wear it for the first time and her daughter came in that day to tell me that she'd passed away the night before. The elderly man who recorded a CD of him telling stories, because he wanted someone to be able to listen to them before he couldn't remember them anymore. Seeing my patient who had a tracheotomy and can't speak anymore stop by my desk every time he comes in and gives me a handful of hard candy. Having a little old lady with paper thin skin and trembling hands pat my cheeks and tell me "I love you".
I know that I could certainly make more money doing something else. But sometimes it's not about money. Sometimes it's about your heart, and your soul, and your passion. Sometimes helping others is more important than financial gain. Sometimes fighting for those who can't fight for themselves, an advocating for those who have no advocate is the best job of all.
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