Project 1

As I turn on the shower, I stand under the stream of hot water going down my back. Class starts in about 30 mins and I groan at the thought of having to be in class at 8 in the morning. The first week of college is ultimately a new experience for me. The fact that I am on my own is definitely exciting. I could finally experience new things, party, meet new people, and do whatever I want. But I cannot forget my purpose for being here: to get an education and become a successful surgeon. I have many reasons why I want to be a surgeon. One of them is my fascination for medicine and procedures. Another is a memory that is permanently etched into my brain. It keeps me focused. It keeps me driven. What is 7 more years of college compared to a long career of white lab coats, operations, and being addressed as Dr. Henri? I will be able to perform surgeries and help others. As I think about what my day will hold, I tilt my head back under the stream of water, and am immediately pulled into a vivid memory of an event that I will never forget. The same memory that eats at me occasionally but also gives me the drive to continue on my path to becoming a surgeon. To becoming a person who will save lives.

What was supposed to be an exciting past time, turned into a deadly accident. I found myself standing on the middle of the bridge, leaning over the rail again. The unnerving sensation in the pit of my stomach was just as strong as it was the first time. As I looked down into the dark water, my eyes remained fixed on a boy treading water, bobbing up and down, and occasionally throwing hands up as if he was drowning. He was known to be a joker. He continued, silently and calmly throwing his hands up as if signaling for help. One would think he was just a bad actor. He almost had me fooled…. Almost. I knew better. Panic grew within me as I stood there watching him. I called out to my friends, who were sitting on top of the rail, to go jump in the water and save him. I recalled how my pleas fell on deaf ears as my friends stared at him, unsure of whether he was playing a prank, or truly drowning. I stayed rooted in the same position staring at him bobbing in the murky water, knowing that I was incapable of rescuing him. I did what I could and continued calling on and pleading for anyone around to come while my friend dialed 911. We continued watching him as he attempted to stay afloat, staying under the water longer than before. Knowing what happened next, I looked on as he stopped moving, turned onto his stomach, and disappeared into the water.

Removing my head from under the stream, I finished my shower and continued with my morning routine. It was 20 minutes before the start of class. I prepared my breakfast and ate as the memory of the event unfolded, pulling me in. The sun had set and the moon was high in the sky. I, as well as my friends, remained on the bridge. It was just us and the police officers. We were told to sit on the bridge and answer questions as the divers tried their best to find him. I remained pacing on the bridge occasionally looking over the rail to see if the divers have found him yet. At the time, I was still hopeful that he would make it out alive. Maybe with some brain damage, but alive nevertheless. But as I relived the event, I knew what the outcome was going to be.

Pulling out of my memories, I walk out of my dorm and to my class. I am a few minutes early, so I look for a nice spot to sit, take out my phone, and scroll through Instagram. I don’t pay attention to what I’m looking at. Instead, I relive the events as it progresses. It felt like hours were passing by while I was standing on the bridge, waiting for the divers to find him. As the time crept on, I was slowly being consumed by guilt and helplessness. Finally, I watched as the divers and paramedics pulled him out of the water, onto a stretcher, and into the ambulance. His drenched body, once full of life and laughter, now remains a lifeless, cold shell. The memory, still fresh as if it happened a second ago, and the feeling of helplessness, strong as ever, continues to haunt me. The shock of hearing his death was long gone, but the blow from realizing that he is now just a memory, nearly knocks the wind out of me every time. I knew that it was not my fault, and that there was nothing I could have done to change the situation. But the terrible feeling of uselessness still settled on my heart. What if I was a strong swimmer? What if I could pull him out of the water? What if I could perform CPR on him? He would have still been here.

In reality, I was not able to do any of those things. I was not able to save him. But one day I would be able to save others. Sometimes, I create scenarios in my head where I would rescue him and he would wake up and be his normal, goofy self. I know that is just wishful thinking, but the scenarios that I create in my head would soon become a reality, once I reach my goal of becoming a doctor. I would be able to save people from the grips of death. I would no longer be useless.

The professor walks in, and class is now in session. Focusing my attention on the professor, my memory reminds me of my reason for being there, my reason for becoming a pre-med major, my reason for wanting to become a surgeon. My memories brought me to a new community, to help prepare me for a life where life-threatening situations will become familiar to me. Where the feeling of helplessness will be nothing but a distant memory. Where I will be able to save the lives of those who are on the brink of life and death.