“Neighborhood Drug Dealer”

You know the drill, day after day… car pulls up—circles the block....pulls to the curb. From the back, walks the delivery man… gracious exchange….handshake….car pulls off. Done deal….  Jeezy got us “Back to tha Basics”, while we learned the art of the “Rubberband Man” from the great urban philosopher, Clifford “Tip” Harris. How can one man change the culture of a community? Ask “Freeway Rick” Ross the for the formula notorious for pushing the product form border to border, supplying the demand of the insatiable customer yearning for the next treatment. This life ain’t for everybody and this path— it won’t lead anywhere. People will die from tha product…the supplier will suffer for tha product….yet still, hood billionaire Ricky Rozay spoke the gospel when he proclaimed we must always… “push it to the limit”

The black doctor—-unlike the aforementioned parallel, he/she is a unicorn in the community. In 2018, WE are more likely to obtain the credentials of an 8 digit number than a 2 letter degree. To the superficial eye it would seem that the two credentials are vastly different. That eye would be correct… one individual is locked in chains while the other holds the power, privilege, and respect that we all aspire to obtain. Dig deeper…as children they both sat in the same classrooms that at some point in time told them that the latter had rarely been achieved…that to get there would be great but they would need to acquire a “back up plan”. They both grew older, their paths may have diverged in environment but the lessons remained the same. The black doctor grew to be come proficient in scholarly subjects such as math, chemistry, biology, and physics. The individual learned to manipulate the chemical properties of controlled substances for profit and marketable gain…hmm….maybe he learned to aim his firearm at at 45 degree angle with the barrel parallel to the ground knowing it would influence the projectile motion of the bullet to strike his target….okayyyyyyy…The bullet would contact the neck slightly below the chin, thereby penetrating the common carotid artery causing a loss of pulse and imminent fatality…wait a minute….. The black doctor will take exam after exam, test after test, well aware of the institutional disadvantage he/she has statistically to succeed. The individual will enter into a system designed to keep them indebted to a society that never even gave them a loan. Yes, eventually the black doctor will become the pinnacle of black excellence, a pillar of the community. Yet, when the individual and the black doctor cross paths and reminisce on those days in class….it begins to become hard to tell if they are all that different….

I chose medicine because I see my local community struggling with chronic health diseases due to a lack of knowledge in preventative health behaviors coupled with predetermined hereditary risks.  My biggest motivation is to educate my community and improve the health of individuals who aspire to live a life free of inhibitions due to health concerns. I chose medicine because I watched my grandmother pass away in October of 2015 after a long battle with diabetes and heart disease.  Unfortunately her passing was due in part to the culture in the African American community in which mediocre health habits are subtly glorified.  As a culture we are complacent in believing our health is out of our control.  As members of my family and community grow older, they become dependent upon medications, stagnant in mobility and exercise, and celebrate aspects of gluttony in the practice of traditional eating habits.  I’m motivated to inspire a change, because my grandmother meant the world to me, my community deserves better, and I fear for the health of my family. I chose medicine because I value the gift of service more than the prize of compensation and believe that my drive and passion to give will absolve the profession’s unintended nature to take.

Medicine Chose me because it recognized the similarities between the “influence of the streets” and “the pillar of the community.” It manifested a “rubber band” around a wrist, into a bounce back mentality rival to any discriminatory statistic. It took me “Back to tha Basics” to master my craft after taking a loss, over and over again. It taught me that as long as my community was in dire need of “tha product”, we would continue to struggle until we identified a certified supplier. Medicine knew what the statistics preordained about me. Statistically speaking, Medicine saved my life.

Ricky Rozay proclaimed we must “push it to the limit” …. by now if you haven’t caught the metaphor… you’re probably still feigning for it…..laugh….. Come find me in 4-10 years….

Your Neighborhood Drug Dealer

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