Original Text

I could check blood sugar when ten. I could give insulin injections when twelve. I could perform peritoneal dialysis exchanges when fifteen. My mother died at seventeen.

We did everything we could but it was not enough.

Her doctor did more than help her, he helped us all. Mom did well on peritoneal dialysis we could still go out, eat at restaurants, and, of course, shop just not as much as before. Dr. John Doe was a good man and a concerned doctor. During the last six months of my mom's time with us, Dr. Doe was her primary physician; he was her nephrologist. I learned from my step father that he was a physics and math major who decided to become a primary care physician and later a specialist. I never asked Dr. Doe why he became a physician. After knowing him, I think he just wanted to make a difference.

Revised Text

I became interested in medicine as a career because my mother was a diabetic. By the time I was ten, I knew how to check her blood sugar levels, and at twelve I took over her insulin injections. At fifteen, I was performing her peritoneal dialysis exchanges on a regular basis. I did everything I could for my mother, but it wasn't enough. She died when I was seventeen. My feelings of grief and helplessness changed me forever. I vowed I would do everything I could to help others like her, and that if I couldn't save them, I would at least fill their final days with dignity and compassion.

Yet my real inspiration to become a healer was Dr. John Doe, who was my mother's primary physician and nephrologist during the last six months of her life. I never thought to ask Dr. Doe why he'd become a doctor, but then again, I didn't need to. His actions spoke louder than any words could have. It was clear that Dr. Doe wanted to make a difference in the world. Because of his example, so do I.

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