As I write this I sit in an Emergency Room examination room. This time it’s my father who lays on the bed getting prodded, and poked. I’m used to this scene; I’ve been here many times before, though most often it is with my mother who has a rare autoimmune disease. Each time I walk into a hospital a part of me aches, it aches not because I know that it a place associated with both pain and death, but I ache because I want to do more. I feel so helpless each time I am back here. I sit in a corner, sharing any knowledge I might hold regarding medical history and the like, but unable to help, to heal, to diagnose, to serve. It reinvigorates my desire to pursue a valuable education, to learn and to grow, and in doing so I will expand my capacity to serve. I do not mean to say that what I have done is insignificant or in vain, nor do intend to diminish the value of other who have less education for I believe they are still invaluable in the terms of service they render. But what I do know is the desire that burns within me to go on and expand my capacity to serve.