By Dina Elyamany
My heart froze and my stomach churned as I imagined the red-colored blood gushing out of him like a waterfall. I grabbed my doctor equipment and, with shaking hands, started stitching the wound in his chest with fear that something might go wrong. After sealing the cut, I checked the heart monitor, and a big smile appeared on my face. My teddy bear was safe and alive, and I was an outstanding six-year-old doctor. After finishing surgery, I skipped into the waiting room to see my clinic filled with my sister’s Barbies who needed a heart replacement because Ken had broken their hearts.
As a child, I always thought the people I knew could be replaced or brought back to life if something bad happened to them, like the toys I owned. However, one day showed me I was wrong. On a dull Wednesday afternoon, my parents dropped me off at my aunt's house so they could go to work. I spent the whole day talking to the dolls in my aunt's special collection before realizing my aunt never came to check on me. Wondering, I walked to her room through the open door; she was lying on the floor motionless, her mouth slightly open, and no spirit left inside her body. That day I learned she could not be replaced.
After seeing the image of my aunt's empty body, I woke up to realize that I had been living in a fantasy where people never die. Because of what happened to my aunt, I decided to become a real doctor who would save humans from unnecessary death. I knew that I would have to study my hardest to earn the required test scores to get into the top medical college. But living in Egypt, I knew my dream was not going to be accomplished since well-connected people steal the high test scores for their children.
When I turned eleven, my parents brought me to live in the United States. I will always remember my first day in a school in America: I walked to my sixth grade class with a heart pounding like a noisy watch. As I sat in my...