A non-traditional personal statement from an older applicant
Posted: Fri Jul 02, 2010 9:55 am
When I started writing my personal statement, there was so much I wanted to say. Several schools allowed me to exceed the 2 double spaced page requirement. The essay spans 40+ years in the form of vignettes which lead me now to law. It certainly helped in my acceptance to my top ranked school.
Journalist Sydney J. Harris once commented that middle age is “that perplexing time of life when we hear two voices calling, one saying “why not?” and the other, “why bother?”. Why law school, and why now? Parity, pain, persistence, and pathology have brought me to this decision and here is my tale.
Parity. Nothing in this world approaches equality and the world is not a fair place. I came to this realization as a six year old in Ajmer, India. My family had a spacious, well-appointed home and several servants. In contrast, an entire family lived in a thatched hut outside of our compound with their son. Unlike our family, it is doubtful that this family immigrated to the United States, or that their boy eventually became a physician, and lived in greater luxury than 99% of the people on the planet. My first encounter with the United States was in the small town of Marshfield, Wisconsin in 1969, a far cry from Central India. We arrived in the land of beef, poultry, and dairy as Hindu vegetarians. This transplantation from India to the United States heightened my awareness of cultural differences and how they are manifest in everyday life. As an undergraduate at Stanford, my interests in equality and race led me to write my history honors thesis on Black soldiers in the Vietnam War, a racial minority-- fighting in an unpopular war-- while they demonstrated for their own equal rights in the United States. Although I do not consciously identify myself as part of a minority, I have experienced discrimination, albeit subtle, as an Indian man with a domestic partner. The subtleties range from being followed in an upscale store to raised eyebrows about two men buying property together. Discrimination is bred by fear and it is ubiquitous. We fear people who are unlike us. But when these people become neighbors, teachers, and colleagues, barriers often begin to come down, one person at a time. Unfortunately, we do not start life with the same advantages, nor do we live without obstacles placed before us. A legal system should strive to achieve parity--not to level the playing field--but to ensure that there is a playing field.
Pain. After spending twenty years as a physician, I have seen the pain that individuals go through as a result of disease or the rendering of a diagnosis. Pain is not only biological in nature, but is influenced by how we practice medicine, as well as our legal system, and cultural mores. I started my medical residency at the University of California, San Francisco (UCSF) at a time when medicine had begun to make major advances in the understanding and the treatment of disease at the molecular level. Concurrently, during the late eighties and early nineties, San Francisco was in the midst of the HIV epidemic, and medicine was never confined to the workplace for physicians. I had friends dying of terminal HIV and there were no clear guidelines for physicians to address end-of-life issues. This chapter in history occurred before the development of anti-HIV cocktails which turned HIV infection into a more manageable disease rather than a death sentence for many. After heart-wrenching weeks and months, I helped several friends make some difficult choices. HIV transformed the American landscape in myriad ways and forced us to confront legal and medical ambiguities which accompanied the disease. Fortunately, as a tribute to those that died and those who live with the disease, the medical and social effects of HIV have led to groundbreaking medical research and legal reform. More needs to be done.
Persistence. The word took on a new meaning for me in January of 2008. While I was in practice in Central California, I developed severe back pain which did not resolve; one morning I was unable to move my legs. An abscess had eroded a portion of my spinal tissue; it took eight hours of neurosurgery to repair the damage. I spent the next 35 days in the hospital and was discharged with no certainty as to the degree of my ultimate recovery; “Will I walk again, Doctor?” I remained confined to a wheelchair for most of that year and underwent demanding physical rehabilitation. I had to learn to regain my continence as well as how to walk--a second childhood of sorts. I would not resign myself to life in a wheelchair and my efforts to improve became paramount. The world, as experienced by a disabled patient and as a physician, can be eye-opening. Losing my independence was the hardest thing about being in a wheelchair. This ordeal allowed me to see the world from a different perspective -- and to observe how others interacted with me. I realized that wheelchair bound individuals can be invisible to the world. Also, I had ample time to examine my past and present as well as contemplate the future. During physical rehabilitation at University of Washington, I met numerous people who had become disabled from a variety of causes. One person who stands out is a young man, Zackery, who had sustained severe physical and neurological injuries during a football game. Subsequently, he and his family campaigned for “Zack’s Law” which was recently passed in Washington State. It requires that a player must be examined by a physician before re-entering a game after sustaining a possible concussion. His youthful drive and progress have been inspirational. I have been extremely fortunate in my recovery; I am now walking without support, driving, working, and leading a “normal life.” But I remain altered by my physical illness. The metal rods in my back are there to stay, as is a certain level of pain and difficulty walking at the end of the day, which affords me first-hand comprehension of how lives can be disrupted by accident or disease. My persistence allowed me to recover to a point far exceeding my expectations and has given me the drive to participate in issues affecting the disabled. A small example of my efforts is to open a dialogue with Alaska Airlines to allow disabled persons to use their airport boardrooms without any extra charges or mileage requirements. I await their response.
Pathology is the study of disease and is one of the oldest medical sciences. It now emerges as a vibrant, relevant part of the legal landscape. Advances in molecular medicine and identification techniques, coupled with technological leaps in computer science, raise new questions about intellectual property law and the direction of future research. As an academic pathologist at UCSF and Stanford, I became very interested in medical intellectual property involving the use of human tissue as a result of my own research and that of others. Mediation on who should receive the tissue was often tricky, sometimes as a result of competing interests and grants. Companies in the private sector also desired specimens for research. As of now, we have not reached agreement on when life begins, much less on how cells and tissues should be used. Technology will continue to advance but can our wisdom keep pace? Furthermore, new reports come out regularly in the lay press about recommendations for screening tests such as mammograms and Pap smears. Pathologists, whether in academics or in private practice, are the physicians who interpret biopsies and Pap smears. In collaboration with our clinical colleagues, we develop and modify the classification systems for malignancies; these systems have profound biological, therapeutic, and financial implications. Our input is mandatory when it comes to policy development under any type of health care plan. As a physician and attorney, I hope to be well-poised to participate in such policy issues.
In these four vignettes which span several decades, the law comes into play in unexpected ways. Unpredictability and serendipity have shaped my past so I remain open as to what comes next--in the context of combining my medical background with a legal one. I thank you for your consideration.
Journalist Sydney J. Harris once commented that middle age is “that perplexing time of life when we hear two voices calling, one saying “why not?” and the other, “why bother?”. Why law school, and why now? Parity, pain, persistence, and pathology have brought me to this decision and here is my tale.
Parity. Nothing in this world approaches equality and the world is not a fair place. I came to this realization as a six year old in Ajmer, India. My family had a spacious, well-appointed home and several servants. In contrast, an entire family lived in a thatched hut outside of our compound with their son. Unlike our family, it is doubtful that this family immigrated to the United States, or that their boy eventually became a physician, and lived in greater luxury than 99% of the people on the planet. My first encounter with the United States was in the small town of Marshfield, Wisconsin in 1969, a far cry from Central India. We arrived in the land of beef, poultry, and dairy as Hindu vegetarians. This transplantation from India to the United States heightened my awareness of cultural differences and how they are manifest in everyday life. As an undergraduate at Stanford, my interests in equality and race led me to write my history honors thesis on Black soldiers in the Vietnam War, a racial minority-- fighting in an unpopular war-- while they demonstrated for their own equal rights in the United States. Although I do not consciously identify myself as part of a minority, I have experienced discrimination, albeit subtle, as an Indian man with a domestic partner. The subtleties range from being followed in an upscale store to raised eyebrows about two men buying property together. Discrimination is bred by fear and it is ubiquitous. We fear people who are unlike us. But when these people become neighbors, teachers, and colleagues, barriers often begin to come down, one person at a time. Unfortunately, we do not start life with the same advantages, nor do we live without obstacles placed before us. A legal system should strive to achieve parity--not to level the playing field--but to ensure that there is a playing field.
Pain. After spending twenty years as a physician, I have seen the pain that individuals go through as a result of disease or the rendering of a diagnosis. Pain is not only biological in nature, but is influenced by how we practice medicine, as well as our legal system, and cultural mores. I started my medical residency at the University of California, San Francisco (UCSF) at a time when medicine had begun to make major advances in the understanding and the treatment of disease at the molecular level. Concurrently, during the late eighties and early nineties, San Francisco was in the midst of the HIV epidemic, and medicine was never confined to the workplace for physicians. I had friends dying of terminal HIV and there were no clear guidelines for physicians to address end-of-life issues. This chapter in history occurred before the development of anti-HIV cocktails which turned HIV infection into a more manageable disease rather than a death sentence for many. After heart-wrenching weeks and months, I helped several friends make some difficult choices. HIV transformed the American landscape in myriad ways and forced us to confront legal and medical ambiguities which accompanied the disease. Fortunately, as a tribute to those that died and those who live with the disease, the medical and social effects of HIV have led to groundbreaking medical research and legal reform. More needs to be done.
Persistence. The word took on a new meaning for me in January of 2008. While I was in practice in Central California, I developed severe back pain which did not resolve; one morning I was unable to move my legs. An abscess had eroded a portion of my spinal tissue; it took eight hours of neurosurgery to repair the damage. I spent the next 35 days in the hospital and was discharged with no certainty as to the degree of my ultimate recovery; “Will I walk again, Doctor?” I remained confined to a wheelchair for most of that year and underwent demanding physical rehabilitation. I had to learn to regain my continence as well as how to walk--a second childhood of sorts. I would not resign myself to life in a wheelchair and my efforts to improve became paramount. The world, as experienced by a disabled patient and as a physician, can be eye-opening. Losing my independence was the hardest thing about being in a wheelchair. This ordeal allowed me to see the world from a different perspective -- and to observe how others interacted with me. I realized that wheelchair bound individuals can be invisible to the world. Also, I had ample time to examine my past and present as well as contemplate the future. During physical rehabilitation at University of Washington, I met numerous people who had become disabled from a variety of causes. One person who stands out is a young man, Zackery, who had sustained severe physical and neurological injuries during a football game. Subsequently, he and his family campaigned for “Zack’s Law” which was recently passed in Washington State. It requires that a player must be examined by a physician before re-entering a game after sustaining a possible concussion. His youthful drive and progress have been inspirational. I have been extremely fortunate in my recovery; I am now walking without support, driving, working, and leading a “normal life.” But I remain altered by my physical illness. The metal rods in my back are there to stay, as is a certain level of pain and difficulty walking at the end of the day, which affords me first-hand comprehension of how lives can be disrupted by accident or disease. My persistence allowed me to recover to a point far exceeding my expectations and has given me the drive to participate in issues affecting the disabled. A small example of my efforts is to open a dialogue with Alaska Airlines to allow disabled persons to use their airport boardrooms without any extra charges or mileage requirements. I await their response.
Pathology is the study of disease and is one of the oldest medical sciences. It now emerges as a vibrant, relevant part of the legal landscape. Advances in molecular medicine and identification techniques, coupled with technological leaps in computer science, raise new questions about intellectual property law and the direction of future research. As an academic pathologist at UCSF and Stanford, I became very interested in medical intellectual property involving the use of human tissue as a result of my own research and that of others. Mediation on who should receive the tissue was often tricky, sometimes as a result of competing interests and grants. Companies in the private sector also desired specimens for research. As of now, we have not reached agreement on when life begins, much less on how cells and tissues should be used. Technology will continue to advance but can our wisdom keep pace? Furthermore, new reports come out regularly in the lay press about recommendations for screening tests such as mammograms and Pap smears. Pathologists, whether in academics or in private practice, are the physicians who interpret biopsies and Pap smears. In collaboration with our clinical colleagues, we develop and modify the classification systems for malignancies; these systems have profound biological, therapeutic, and financial implications. Our input is mandatory when it comes to policy development under any type of health care plan. As a physician and attorney, I hope to be well-poised to participate in such policy issues.
In these four vignettes which span several decades, the law comes into play in unexpected ways. Unpredictability and serendipity have shaped my past so I remain open as to what comes next--in the context of combining my medical background with a legal one. I thank you for your consideration.