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Andrew PS Working Draft

trabajo paulatino

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jazgr321
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4 views

Andrew PS Working Draft

trabajo paulatino

Uploaded by

jazgr321
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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“You have Crohn’s Disease.

” I stared blankly at my gastroenterologist,


contemplating how I’d tell my parents. Normally, people would cry at this news,
but I didn’t. I cried trying to explain what this meant to my parents. As a
first-generation college student to Vietnamese immigrants who fled the Vietnam
War, I translate and advocate for their medical needs, however, being on the other
side, I realized the helplessness my parents felt when their own child fell ill. This
experience illuminated the rift that exists between my culture and that of Western
medicine.

My family’s aversion to Western medicine stemmed from a deep-rooted


culture of traditional medicine as a form of survival. In our community, faithism
was normalized, a belief that our fates were predetermined, as if chronic diseases
such as diabetes and heart disease were inevitable afflictions everyone faces. These
cultural beliefs disarm us from making impactful changes and reinforce the health
disadvantages in immigrant communities. In managing my Crohn’s, I learned to
translate cross-culturally and search for the intersection of traditional medicine and
Western medicine. I interweaved my culture with medicine, explaining to my
parents that foods enriched with omega-3 were anti-inflammatory similar to my
Mesalamine pills. It was through this cultural merge my parents grew to trust my
doctors and even their own, through their diabetes and heart disease management.
This disparity in medical trust and knowledge is not only limited to my family, but
to underserved communities similar to my own. This experience with my family
inspired me to empower communities and initiate cultural dialogues through
culturally competent health education. I will be a physician that invites culture and
compassion to prevent systemic health disparities.

For me, learning existed through deep conversations with people. I


volunteered in a Spanish-speaking clinic where I met Angelo, a middle-aged man,
and greeted him with a smile before I said “Hola, cómo estás? Por, favor confirme
su fecha de nacimiento.” He knew I didn’t look like everyone else who worked in
the clinic but knew I could speak his language. He rapidly started talking to me. I
was grateful for how quickly he opened up to me, although I was unable to
completely understand him. His enthusiastic voice resonated through the
stethoscope while I took his blood pressure. My smiling and incessant nodding
were met with a long silence, until I realized he asked a question. My Spanish was
improving but not perfect. We laughed, and I apologized. He said “Thank you for
smiling and sharing a laugh. Sometimes I meet people who don’t acknowledge me,
focusing too much on their job.” He showed me compassion in providing
emotional care despite cultural differences. I couldn’t advise him on his diabetes,
but I felt fortunate in bettering his emotional health by listening to him and
providing the care and respect he deserved. I will never forget the positive effect
compassion has on a patient’s wellness. The clinic’s work was a band-aid for the
needs of underserved individuals, but these human connections epitomize why I
want to become a physician that practices compassion over differences.

Inspired by shared immigrant narratives in the clinics, I decided to study


abroad in Oaxaca, Mexico, and learned about the traditional medicine that many
who lack healthcare rely on. I sat in a man-made hot sauna called a temazcal,
inhaling the steam of eucalyptus and traditional herbs into my body. I let the hot air
surround me like a hug, and was reminded of my culture’s own temazcal, but we
called it xong hoi. I was surprised by how similar Mexican cultural practices
mirrored that of my own. These cultural practices connect ourselves with our
community, but they reveal the underlying lack of access to healthcare. I noticed
the cultural barriers that existed between immigrants and the United States, such as
faithism and toxic masculinity.When talking in Spanish to patients in Oaxaca,
many women were afraid to disclose domestic violence and often accepted it as
part of motherhood. I saw my mother in the Mexican women that we treated during
home-visits in Oaxaca, especially when they believed that God wanted them to
endure pain and prolong seeking medical attention. I saw generational interactions
between families, and thought back to my family’s dinner table and the row of
Coke cans, as my dad mixed Coke and milk together for the both of us. Because of
the lack of healthcare access, my family and other immigrant communities were
ill-equipped with healthy dietary habits and medical attention. I learned that culture
and healthcare access have implications on immigrants' health; however, informing
families of preventive interventions with cultural humility can empower them with
a life of fewer health burdens. As a future physician, I hope to consolidate science
and culture to alleviate systemic health disparities in communities like my own.
My chronic illness sparked my interest in medicine, but my interactions with
patients confirmed my decision to pursue medicine. I now know that illnesses
unveil narratives and cultural differences, but with compassion and care, I hope to
guide patients through their own illnesses with the cultural demands of medicine. I
am excited for a medical education that will bridge our personal experiences and
cultures to serve others and provide optimal patient care.

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