Today, my grandma, like everyone else these days, asked me if I’ve decided where I am going for medical school. I have been avoiding telling her that New York has turned out to be my best option. It means everything to her to have her grandkids close. (She thought I would get cancer when I went to the East Coast for undergrad.)
So when I finally told her I would most likely be going back east, I braced myself for the backlash. Instead she smiled, took my grandpa’s hand, and said, “I am so proud. We can’t wait for you to come back in four years to be our doctor.” For the first time this month, I felt at ease.
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