Diving Into Graduate School and Global Health: Trying to Stay Afloat

     

Many have said that once you leave the academic world, it is much harder to re-enter. I used to roll my eyes when my peers used to warn me, responding in an arrogant and pompous tone. Though after being back in an academic environment for a little less than a month, I have to say that the adjustment is far more emotional and physical draining than I had anticipated. In no way do I regret my decision to return to school, I just underestimated the strain that it would have on my body. Growing up, I was always someone who was completely focused, to the extent that I was obsessed with my GPA. Constantly checking my grades on Blackboard and immersed in my textbooks, I always had to have the highest grade in the class, and be the person who set the curve on every examination. After living and working in the real world for the past three years, I came to graduate school with a completely different perspective. Struggling to find employment with a solid undergraduate GPA and degree from a renowned, top university, I began to undervalue my education, and the hours I spent obsessing over my individual grades. If you asked me what expectations I set for myself five years ago, I would've told you that I was going to graduate within the Top 1% of my graduating class, being recognized with the highest academic honors (Phi Beta Kappa, Summa Cum Laude, and other academic status markers). Now, nearly 26 and three years out of undergrad, I am much more concerned with mastering the content and taking advantage of the vast amount of opportunities that are within my reach. Though, I'm finding it a daunting task at times to sit down and read chapter after chapter, teach myself elementary level binomial probability and normal distribution, and delve into graduate level coursework in its entirety. The material is all very interesting, it's more of an inner-battle with me and my attention span. They say once you know how to ride a bike, you never forget. While that may be true, it definitely takes some time for you to get back on the bike and ride at the Tour de France level, after being off of it for so long.  I know that it's all new to me, in time I will find my motivation and regress back to my undergraduate study habits.

      

 Graduate school is so much different than my undergraduate experience, as I expected it to be. There's a much larger spread in the types of students that are in graduate programs; individuals who just graduated undergrad and others who have been out of the academic game for more than five years, individuals who have families and others who are riding solo such as myself. Finding one's niche in an undergraduate environment is a much simpler task when compared to locating your fit at the graduate level. As an undergrad, you have option upon option when it comes to extracurricular activities. Being in an academic and professional realm that is highly dominated by women, the concentration of other like-minded males is at a bare minimum. While I may seem downhearted thus far, that's certainly not the case. I've met many wonderful people here at Tulane,  all of whom are unique and interesting in their own way. If I'm being completely honest, it's just taking me more time to adapt to this new environment and new town. 

Moving on to a more optimistic topic. Prior to giving my resignation to the American Heart Association and announcing my departure, I had made it a priority to find an internship for when I arrived to graduate school and New Orleans. Hours of research and blindly reaching out to organizations in New Orleans paid off. Last Wednesday, I began interning for a local humanitarian organization,  LearnToLive, whose mission is closely tied to providing health care services to the under-served in developing areas of Indonesia and South Africa, working towards making clean water available in low-resourced communities, and educating these communities on the basic fundamentals of personal health and one's well-being. When I first learned about this organization on Idealist and after digging on their website, I was determined to intern for this organization. After meeting with the Founder and Executive Director, I wanted this opportunity even more. I felt strong synergy and was hired on the spot, and I'm extremely excited to be working for such a young organization, which is growing quickly. The thought of being an intern after being a salaried professional in the nonprofit health world still feels weird, though I'm completely grateful to have this opportunity, and to work with such passionate and skilled individuals. As I take the first steps towards a career in global health consulting, I'm excited to report that I've had the opportunity to evaluate the metrics of a recent health program implemented in Indonesia. While the overlay of empirical data is foreign to me at times, it brings tears to my eyes to see the impact that individuals such as myself are making in the lives of at-risk individuals in poor Indonesian villages. 

   

      I've only been in New Orleans and a graduate student at Tulane for less than a month, and I am already feeling the pressure. With time, I know that the anxiety and emotions  will subside. I'm not promising another 4.0 GPA, it's been hard to achieve that since the sophomore year of undergrad.Though, it is with optimism, pride and a fighting mentality that I continue to paddle my way through these green waves. 

Challenging YOU To Do Something: September is Children's Cancer Awareness Month

       Eight years ago, the unimaginable happened. As humans we think that the worst will never happen to us; reality sets when we find ourselves in a hospital bed. As a child, I watched my father's best friend's son battle a rare form of leukemia. I remember questioning the cause and quietly thinking that it would never happen to me. Fast forward seven years later; I was a sixteen and a half year old teenager revising my plans. Take what you read about cancer from non reputable sources on the web with a little grain of salt; cancer is not glamorous. All cancers are bad; although some have higher survival rates and manageable course of treatments, all kinds can be life-threatening.

      Not only does September mark Children's Cancer Awareness Month, it coincidently also happens to be Hodgkin's Lymphoma Awareness Month. Losing your hair is something that is evident in most individuals' journey when they're diagnosed with cancer; it's one of the things that raises the most heartache and concern for females and others conscious of their vanity. I might not have wanted to lose my hair, though there was no fighting it. It was going to happen, just something that I had to accept and embrace. Today, a spotless head is a scar that I voluntarily choose to wear every September or March (weather permitting). It reminds me of a dark time in my life; one that people do not choose if given the choice. Flip the coin, it reminds me of a transformational period in my life; one that made me mature faster and a more socially responsible individual. No one wants to have the conversation with a doctor that begins with the words, "You have cancer...", nor does anyone want to hear about cancer in a public setting. Though, it's a conversation that we as a society must have; educating others, raising awareness, and procuring funds geared towards  research, the development of life-saving prevention programs, as well as programs to make access to quality treatment and delivery of health services open to everyone, are all crucial to protecting our children. I think we can all agree, we'd rather have the prevention conversation over the survival conversation.

     Prior to moving to Washington, DC and facing long and hellish winters, I would shave my head every March to raise awareness and funds for children's cancer awareness; an active participant and leader of the St. Baldrick's Foundation movement to educate the community and procure funds for vital research. Starting last year, I added a new element to my yearly haircut that left me bald. Barbers might question the number that I request for them to shape into the back of my head, chuckling as I try to get to words out of my mouth. Heads may turn, causing people to have looks of confusion. I wear my number proudly, walking straight with my head held high, and a huge smirk across my face.


        "8" does not represent the number that sits on the back of the jersey of one of my favorite athletes, the number of nights during Hanukkah, or a lucky number of mine. For me it's something much more meaningful and deeper, "8" represents survival, celebration, and inspiration. The number "8" brings hope and joy to my ears and eyes, brings inspiration to children battling cancer, and lastly brings motivation to doctors and scientists alike; forcing them to work harder and smarter.

       There has been such camaraderie built around the ALS Water Bucket Challenge. A lot of you have surprised me, partaking in the water bucket challenge, donating thousands among millions of dollars to the ALS Foundation, and all together collaborating on an earth shattering moment for the ALS Society. While I may have questioned people's motives and the methods that ALS utilized to carry out their campaign, there's no question, it has had an incredibly positive impact in the way we fundraise, advocate, and educate.

      With that said, I am challenging each and every one of you to do something to help move along the mission of organizations like the St. Baldrick's Foundation, CureSearch for Children's Cancer, The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, St. Jude Children's Hospital/ALSAC, and the many other organizations and foundations that play instrumental roles in the prevention of cancer, as well as the protection. Your act of raising awareness can be as simple as volunteering at a children's hospital, or as big and bold as shaving your head in order to show solidarity for children undergoing treatment for all types of cancer; showing them that being bald is no big deal! Ready, set, go!