All instrumentalists start as novices; only after hours of practice does the foreign object in their hands begin to tie together coherent notes to create music. To be a singer, however, requires an innate talent that cannot be taught.

Holding my pose on the stage of the Bardavon Opera Theater, I looked out into the darkness and felt the heat beating down from the lights. In the brief moments of silence, I could feel fear creep into my psyche.

If my path to medicine were an actual road, supportive mentors would be the wind at my back and a love of biology the sneakers on my feet. My reason for walking, however, would trace back to my father.

“Who is your role model?”

“My daddy. I want to be with him, but I can’t.”

I sat on the floor with a sweetly brave six-year-old boy - our arms around each other, and tears flowing down our faces.

As a musician, I was ecstatic when I learned about Weill’s “Music and Medicine” initiative. It was exciting and validating to find a school that saw as much value in both fields as I did.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a chef, which is interesting because I am a terrible cook. I can follow a recipe easily enough, but attempting to create something new and experimenting with recipes usually led, and continues to lead, to disaster.

“AARGH,” I heard him yell. I was in the midst of a 45-mile backpacking trip in the rural Appalachian Mountains when I heard Zach, one of my 15-year-old campers, call from a distance. Zach had been chopping wood for the campfire and inadvertently wedged the ax into his right foot.