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Personal StatementIt was 700 oclock at night at a small community hospital in southwest Houston a sixteen years old kid his five years old sibling with torn trousers soaked in blood and their panicking parents were waiting in an emergency wait room That was our family the night my younger brother fell of his bike and scrapped his entire right leg against the rough pavement 730 PM a nurse came by passed a quick glance at the hysterically crying child and immediately walked back to her station There we waited for what felt like an eternity in an overcrowded room filled with old and new patients of equal distress My brothers cry now weathered down to a fatigued whimper Is his legs broken Why is he bleeding so much Where are all the doctors A flood of questions rushed through my mind I could sense my parents vast concern and impatient as they try to speak to the nurse in their best broken English which was only made worse with stress The double-swing doors entry to the back seems like the gate of Heaven only which the worthy patients and elite doctors can enter 1000 PM a young doctor came out and led us to a treatment area Ten minutes later we were discharged home with a prescription for over the counter Tylenol a handful of gauze and a few rolls of elastic wraps and the doctors personal reassurance that everything will be fine a simple line which felt more valuable than any presents we could have received at the momentI was brought to the United States at the age of ten by my parents who came here several years earlier among the last few waves of boat refugees Even though they did not have a lot of money no formal education and never set foot in any college or university my parents instilled in me their sense of duty an assumed obligation to give
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