I honestly can’t remember a time when I wasn’t obsessed with something. It could be anything; from ancient Egyptian history to a television series, from a club to a newly discovered author. But I never thought of ‘obsessed’ as being a negative term in reference to some mentally unbalanced state. To me, obsessed means passionate interest and focus put towards what I find important in life. It means putting all your energy towards one goal and showing unwavering dedication to seeing it through. I don’t ever take an interest in moderation; I always find myself obsessed, and that’s how I like to be.
So when I first started to think about my main passion, I ran into a bit of difficulty. I’ve had many mental addictions, the most consuming of them being my life in color guard. I could iterate forever on the many skills and interpersonal relationships I built within the family structure of band. For four years, I didn’t go a day without thinking, talking about, or doing color guard. Literally. It was all consuming, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I always had to take it one step further, not only to advance myself but also to help build the whole program and to inspire those who would come after me. I spent hours after school assisting the freshman in the program . I dedicated days to volunteering in band events. I lived a color guard immersed life. But, how does that particular passion lead me to my future?
My train of thought was unexpectedly derailed. How do I connect guard with where I want to go in life? I’m aware that I seek something more intellectually fulfilling than becoming a guard instructor so the direct route isn’t what I’m looking for. So, it’s back to the drawing board, with a vague outline of what I’m looking for. I know which skills I’ve acquired and what types of leadership I seek to provide.
So, I sit back down at my desk and contemplate where else I’ve found zealot-like devotion in my life, but with my added criteria I take from guard: interactive, a way to help develop someone or some field, and a means to leave a significant legacy. And it’s those additional requirements that illuminate my true long-term goal.
During senior year, I gave myself the freedom to choose a class based on an unexplored interest. Out of the multiple options, I chose psychology. It was a relatively new course, but the teacher’s methods were engaging, and, even more importantly, the subject matter was engrossing. When we covered the unit on the brain, I felt something click inside of me. This was truly fascinating. This is where I could expand into unexplored territory that is still so near and dear to humankind’s ability to reason. The brain is the link between the intangible world of thoughts and feelings and our ability to act on those impulses. It’s not exactly a “fuzzy science” like how many view pure psychology, but neither is it completely ordered and structured. Neuroscience lies somewhere in between. As Daniel Levitin comments in This is Your Brain on Music, “what artists and scientists have in common is the ability to live in an open-ended state of interpretation and reinterpretation of the products of our work.”[1] This is ground still fertile for investigation.
After my introduction to the basics of neurology, I began to do what I do best: personal exploration and research. I have an almost obsessive need to become an expert on my interests, and neuroscience was quickly elevated to such a level. My mother’s profession as a nurse anesthesiologist allowed me greater opportunities to discuss cases she’s seen. It was first hand knowledge that brought the world of medicine alive for me.
But even with the fascinating discoveries I was making, I found a dark side to the science. The main impetus for the study of the mind is due to the multiple mental disorders that effect it. According to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, “neurological disorders strike an estimated 50 million Americans each year, exacting an incalculable personal toll and an annual economic cost of hundreds of billions of dollars in medical expenses and lost productivity.”[2] What caught me most sharply was not the monetary toll, but the emotional price. It’s not just a singular individual who is effected by a neurological disorder, it’s everyone that surrounds them. I’ve been blessed that no one near me has ever had to face such hardship so I can’t imagine what it’s like to care for someone with an illness like Huntington’s Disease. It’s one of the most debilitating disorders in the spectrum that slowly robs its victim of their independence. The spread of Huntington’s is purely genetic so treatment is made even more difficult. And the symptoms range from depression and mood swings to inability to perform any kind of intellectual task. The patient essentially loses much of what makes humans unique. Sadly, it’s one of the multiple afflictions for which modern science has still not managed to discover a cure.
And perhaps more terrifying, there are disorders that don’t just degrade the mind, they hinder it’s ability to express reactions or feelings. Aphasia is one such disease. It’s a disorder often caused by head trauma that leaves the patient incapable of expressing themselves: either through speech, sound comprehension, reading, or writing. To me, that seems a fate far worse than Huntington’s because you are still capable of rational thought, you just aren’t able to express it. These are only two of the “more than 600 disorders [that] afflict the nervous system.”[3]
Neurology isn’t just looking at some map of the brain and naming what each piece does. It’s an ever-changing field that adapts to the new discoveries being made every day. I love that that this particular branch of science allows for so much directly interactive research. It’s not a discipline that can only be conducted in the sealed off laboratory. To really uncover the underlying causes of neurological disorders, you must be willing to think not just in terms of brain structure but also environmental factors, viruses, bacteria, and DNA. There are so many intersecting studies which work in concert to present the whole. It’s that synthesis that draws my attention just like the integration of flag, rifle, and dance did four years ago.
There’s also an element of intrepid discovery in the study of neurological disorders. In terms of medical history, it’s a rather young branch with many unanswered questions. How do certain signals travel along the neural pathways? How can we create a bypass if that part of the patients brain becomes damaged? These are questions we are only just beginning to ask. I want to be a part of the movement to help answer them and many besides. I am in the habit of becoming an expert on whatever I’m passionate, and this would be no exception. I strive for complete comprehension, even if that means discerning the facts for myself.
But the main point of my passion in neurology is to leave behind something more tangible than simply my existence. A career as a scientist/psychologist gives me so much opportunity to learn of new treatments and to pass them on. I probably wont be remembered like Isaac Newton or Albert Einstein, but my contributions could make an immeasurable difference in those suffering from diseases of the nervous system. It’s unimaginable to predict how the future might turn out for neurological disorders if science can make just one break-through that eases the lives of so many people.
In truth, I’m really rather worried about the whole medical school process. I’m not one to doubt my abilities but the entire application process is like a sinister fog, making life more murky and unpredictable than it should be. I suppose everyone goes through such a stage at least once in their life and it cheers me to know that “The human will is an amazing thing. Time after time, it has triumphed against unbelievable odds.”[4] I’m averse to quoting cliches like some motivation poster hanging in a classroom that seems to mock you as you struggle through a test. Life isn’t solved by just being positive, but I do belief there is an element of truth in maintaining perseverance towards a goal. Giving up because something is “too hard” is merely making excuses because of your internal fears of failure. But how can you ever know if you don’t try? Coming full circle back to color guard, I recall being terrified as the only freshman and feeling completely inadequate compared to the other girls skill sets. But I had my family and friends who supported me and I just kept pushing to achieve the next level of excellence. I never would have known my passion was capable of propelling me for so many years. In that sense, I’ve developed as a person. And when my organic chemistry seems unbearably hard, I just have to think of all the others obstacles I’ve pushed through because my passion urged me to be the top in that field. I think it’ll be just what I need to thrive, because I have that drive of internal passion to keep me moving.
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WITHOUT QUOTES: 1,467
ENTNOTES
[1] Daniel J. Levitin, This Is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession (New York: Penguin Group, 2007), 5.
[2] “NINDS Overview,” National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, February 3, 2009. http://www.ninds.nih.gov/about_ninds/ninds_overview.htm
[3] "NINDS Overview"
[4] Stephen R. Covey, Seven Habits of Highly Effective People: Restoring the Character Ethic (New York: Free Press, 2004), 148.
TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS
1. Photo of me holding a show flag
curtesy of Zach Norman
2. Mental Health (feeding the mind)
http://Blue-Fish.deviantart.com/art/Mental-Health-117861354
3. Blue Brain with Connecting Lines
http://www.topnews.in/brain-speaks-paralysis-2273164
4. Medical School
http://www.cartoonstock.com/directory/m/medical_school.asp
tl;dr
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