Sitting in his large brown rocking chair in the center of the living room, my grandfather diligently worked out stock numbers. A faint sound from the silver box on the top shelf sounded, "I'm leavin' on a jet plane." "Papa, Papa! Turn it up !" I shouted. I vividly remember the smiles and laughs we shared being tossed back and forth like a bouncy ball. He had so much life and energy dancing with me around the room.

My grandfather was later diagnosed with Emphysema. Over the course of seven years I watched his body slowly deteriorate. This strong man with a fully functional mind and vibrant personality, is trapped in a broken vessel. Helping out as much as I can, I go over to his house and help with simple house chores that he doesn't have the energy to do anymore. Enjoying every second of this constant need for my assistance, I began to wonder if there was a career that demanded the care that I enjoyed providing. Thinking it through, my heart was set on becoming a nurse specializing in geriatrics. There was just one setback to my new plan: my weakness to seeing blood.

Two years ago, I was searching through a clear plastic container full of supplies when an excruciating pain shoots through the tip of my index finger. A long metal rod punctured through my skin creating a bubble of blood, a drop rolling off the side of my finger falling to the grungy garage floor. This made me cringe and gag. Stuttering the words in a whisper, “Help me please.” Every muscle in my body felt numb, like my limbs weighed 20 tons. My head felt like it was ready to fall off my neck and roll away. My father then picked me up, cradling my head and legs like a newborn child and carried me into the house. 

Grappling with the idea of becoming a nurse that feels faint at the sight of blood, I quickly thought of ways to help my situation. I took a certification class to become CPR and Red Cross certified as a lifeguard. Working long grueling shifts all summer as a lifeguard, I took on this job in hopes of administering first aid to patrons. Every gash I wiped clean was intended to make me stronger.

  A three year old girl was running on the deck of the pool nearing a large puddle of water by the showers. "Sweetie don't run!" I shouted across the pool. Ignoring my warning, her foot slips forward and underneath her, landing flat on her back. Immediately I run over with my emergency kit to administer first aid. Glancing at her arm, I saw a flap of skin hanging from above her elbow. The adrenalin building inside of me was helping me to get through this terrifying experience. I felt fine, but the thought of what may happen if I don't stay strong still lingered in the back of my mind. After cleaning her up, I took a break and sat quietly with my eyes closed. Taking deep breaths to slow my heart rate, I knew I was going to be okay. Not only did I grow a tolerance to blood, but I also can stand cleaning up vomit and feces. I experienced many things that helped me to improve my response time and think on my feet.

By discovering this new awareness, I problem solved and found a way to overcome my weakness to blood and not let it negatively affect me. My mindset of becoming a nurse didn’t change, my weakness to blood made me realize I needed to work harder. Dreams don’t come easy, and changing took time, but with the time and effort I put into achieving this goal helped me to gradually transition my weaknesses into strengths.