Entrance Essays

It's about that time of year again, when all the student of the world are scrambling to turn in their essays and praying that the grad school of their choice will call on them. I remember shaking in my boots as I took my essays to my department adviser, my anatomy professor, my boss, my chaplain and my mom, seeking revision and hoping for the best.
They turned out pretty good, and I made it into my number one choice school, so I thought I'd share them and the questions they answered today.

1. Please tell us how your experiences, background, abilities, interests, and/or hardships you have to overcome make you a good candidate for NCNM.

The principle rule of fine serving is to do so quietly and without intrusion, as if all food was being placed by some sort of cheerful magic just below the guest’s nose.  Blending in with the walls is an essential skill in catering, as is listening to general sweeping conversation and paying attention to small gestures and changes in a guest’s posture so that necessary elements can appear before they are asked for. Being both a creative cook and a dancer helps extra plates make their way through a crowded room without disturbing a crowd. Endurance is a must for those all day events where people expect a fully served breakfast, lunch, dinner, and cocktail hour and when everybody else has contracted Fridayitis.

Though sometimes my job has been too stressful, (like spring breaks where I’ve worked for seventy hours, wrote a 15 page paper, and studied for an organic chemistry test) through it I have assimilated a lot of vital skills that I feel will give me a distinct advantage as a naturopathy student.

One of my job provided skills is that I already know how to be a public servant. I know how to talk to people to lead them to a solution without offending the mayor, and how to make things run smoothly on the outside when, internally, the plans haven’t gotten here yet, the food is late, and the rest of  the staff hasn’t shown up.  I can ask questions, but I can also learn from observing the situation. I’m detail oriented,and I have more organizational skill than many can shake a stick at.

As a servant, I’m not bothered by doing the lowest jobs that often bother other people. I know that these jobs contribute just as much to the overall impression as the bigger jobs do.  I’ve also learned how to deal graciously and kindly with people who are hungry, high maintenance and tired while I am doing those dirty jobs- and moreover, I’ve taught other people how to do the same. Being part of a team has shown me the best parts of supportive following and also of leading by example.

I’ve come this far as an undergraduate while holding anywhere from one to three part time jobs. I pursue all of my goals with focus and care to their completion.  I work until I’m tired, and then I work some more till the job is done. Then I go home and do my own dishes and feed the cats because responsibilities never just take care of themselves.

As part of my journey, I have also learned balance and selfcare. In those long days of served meals, there are plenty of times when everything that can be done is done, and I’ve learned to wait. I know when to sit down and have a ten minute cup of tea, and when it’s time to go see a counselor to make sure that I’m staying centered and focused as a person. I know when to pay attention to something as silly as making sure that all of my co-workers have preposterous hats and a secret cupboard of candy for those rough days. I can sit quietly and breathe, even when the world devolves into chaos in the periphery.

 I am fierce, but I am wise, and I know myself.  I am enthusiastic, philosophic, and excited for this next frontier in expanding my knowledge so that I can be a better public servant, with more opportunities and influence.  I enjoy taking care of people, and I want to have a more active role in this process.

2. What led to your decision to pursue a career in naturopathic medicine?

I didn't believe him that day, of course. My Anatomy and Physiology professor, (his name), had told me: "I know you've got your heart in the right place, but... you need to cut this animal crap and be a people doctor." I laughed at him that day, while I was sitting there on his ugly office couch. But I didn't forget being lectured about my "animal crap"- it landed too close to my heart.

I’d already learned that I couldn’t follow my childhood dream to be a veterinarian. When I was interning out at Northwest Trek: A Wildlife Park the summer before, the field vet had told me to euthanize a rabid squirrel with a broken leg because even an intern can’t screw up euthanasia. The very idea made me feel nauseous, even though I’d assisted with numerous necropsies and field procedures. The vet handed me the needle and told me what to look for in an aspiration of the heart while she gave the squirrel some anesthesia.  I got cold. I could feel my pulse in my eyeballs. And I backed out. I didn’t want to cause its fuzzy life that final harm. Yes, I knew it was dying, and I knew it would only suffer more, but I couldn’t kill it.  The newer intern took over for me, and was excited to be involved with the procedure. She put the needle in the squirrel’s heart and gave it a lethal dose.  I made my way outside and threw up. The whole concept made being a veterinarian completely unattainable- vets have to do euthanasia all the time. The only way to be a no-kill general vet is to have been in the field so long that I could afford to specialize.

At that point, I looked into the zoo keeping and the presentation keeping sides of Northwest Trek more seriously. There was a lot to love about the job- I loved feeding bananas to the moose and watching beavers for hours. I liked taking care of all of the animals, and making sure that all was normal in their fuzzy (or slimy) little lives. The only thing I didn’t like was feeling that I had lost a vital aspect of their care when my veterinary dreams crashed and burned. I felt like I’d lost my ability to truly help these animals have a better life, even though I was still involved with the observation, enrichment and maintenance aspects. I was very torn about my decision to focus on a purely care-taking career versus the healing career I had originally planned on.

While I was undecided, I took more classes and headed towards a general biology degree. I helped out at the Shelton Kitten Rescue, outside of town. I thought about squirrels, and the “is it really final harm, or final relief” debate. I remained convicted that it was a final harm, and I was still convinced that I was going into animal care when Steve gave me his “animal crap” lecture.

With the “people doctor” idea percolating in my brain, I started researching the process of becoming one. Then I kept looking. The idea resonated so much with what I believe in, and who I am, that I couldn’t quit looking. I looked at all of the big allopathic schools in the northwest, and didn’t feel like any of them fit me. When I found NCNM, I was astounded. Not only did it feel like home from the first time I set foot on campus, I’ve been driving past it every single time I’ve visited my parents for the last three and a half years.  Though my path to naturopathy has been convoluted, I feel that my urge to heal is best represented, ethically and socially, at NCNM.

      

3.       What exposure have you had to the philosophy and modalities of naturopathic medicine?

        No one was surprised when I came in bleeding. I was a careless child, and having fallen through a tire swing nearly entirely, but with my foot caught above and my back dragging below, was just another story that my pediatrician would smile and shake his head at. What was surprising was the elusive pain that I never recovered from, and the sudden onset of vertigo and fainting spells. I spent a lot of my childhood enduring MRI's, x-ray machines, CAT scans, braces, bed rest, or taking some cocktail of pills that had been prescribed mostly to show that something was being done.

        Bouncing from specialist to specialist, I learned a lot of things about the medical field that weren't necessarily endearing. I learned that no one has time to explain what they're looking for to a child, and that when in doubt, anti-psychotics are a good resort. I learned that no matter how many times I'd explained my story to a doctor, no one would ever take the time to read the chart before they came into the examination room or believe me once they'd asked the same questions from the chart again.

        Learning the allopathic system made me a fairly cynical little kid. By the time I was 12, I'd seen so many doctors and specialists that I no longer counted on a diagnosis as much as I expected to be written off as an attention seeking lunatic. I quit taking the pills, because I felt better without the side effects. I learned to compensate for falling by standing next to walls, and I learned to never say anything about the pain that I was in because I hated (well, I still hate) being treated like an invalid.

Around that time I was hitting the middle of high school, and my mom extricated a promise to see one last specialist- an otolaryngologist named Dr. F. Owen Black.

        Dr. Black changed my world.

        He listened to me. He remembered me as a person from visit to visit, down to dumb things like prom and baseball. He looked at my symptoms, and instead of treating me for vertigo, he tested me for what caused my vertigo. He told me what he was looking for, and briefly explained what each test result meant; why he was ordering different tests. When he diagnosed me with endolymphatic hydrops, he put me in some of his NASA funded gravitation research equipment, and taught me how to see the world in a way that made standing up easier. He changed my diet so the falling wouldn't come as frequently, and gave me the cliff notes reason of why I would feel better. He referred me to a doctor who diagnosed me with fibromyalgia, and on my one year check up confirmed the diagnosis.

        During that one year check up I remember looking at the framed translation of the original Hippocratic Oath on the wall.  I realized that out of all the doctors I had ever seen, he was the only one who had the words " ...[I] will never do harm" on his examination room wall. He healed me, not only from falling down a lot, but from becoming completely cynical. He inspired within me hope that I could cope with my conditions, and that there was support out there. He made me feel like humanity itself cared about my wellness. He wasn't a naturopath, but he shaped who I will become by following naturopathic principles.

                        

So if you're stuck on your essays, or you're not sure how much creative license you can take with your questions, just follow your heart and write what you're really thinking about. Good luck, friends