The little bit of your story from the biography on the University of Utah family medicine residency site seems to only scratch the surface of what appears to be an amazing journey to medical school. Can you share a bit more of your story of that journey? Oh man, My Story. It certainly has been long and convoluted. I grew up in low socio-economic and culturally diverse neighborhoods where English was spoken only by young children. I lived with my aunt in southern California for a few years as a baby until my mom could take me back to northern California, where I was born. We lived off food stamps and charity. My mom knew the tiniest bit of English; basically, she learned English with me once I started school. With her middle school education, she did her darndest to keep me ahead in math during elementary school and made me keep up my Vietnamese literacy. My brother (six years younger with a different dad) and I moved every year, around December/January, so I was perpetually the new kid in the middle of the year. I ended up going to four different high schools as well. Part of that was my own stupidity; I was a struggling teen, angry I had to straddle two cultures, so I rebelled. It didn’t help that I moved so often and didn’t have a stable support system. Not knowing me or my situation, the counselors often passed me over regarding wellness checks. I last lived with my mom when I was 14 and lived with other family members until I was 18. After high school, I somehow got accepted into a university. However, being the stupid teen I was, I allowed the acceptance to lapse and ended up going to a community college for the next few years. I struggled during that period, too, though I held several part-time jobs: at a restaurant, Big 5 Sporting Goods, Good Guys (an electronics store,) PetSmart, and Sears. By the time I should have graduated from university, I became so mad at myself after four years of not completing anything. So I bribed myself: complete community college, and the end goal would allow me to go snowboarding all winter if I passed all my classes by the end of the year. I tried asking counselors at the community college for advice on redirecting my path to medical school, and I got a lot of, “maybe you should try for something easier.” For both mental and financial support, I asked to move back in with part of my family. (The group I had been living/hanging with the past few years was not supportive of my goals.) The University of California San Diego finally accepted me. During my three years there, I became very involved with a volunteer clerkship program that provided prehealth students clinical exposure in what was basically a CNA-type role. I ended up as the assistant director of the ICU division, where I coordinated various ICU volunteers, the training I piloted, and acted as liaison between the program and the hospital directors and staff. That position ultimately morphed into many meetings and paperwork and less one-on-one interaction with patients that I craved. I loved teaching but missed patient care. I slowly transitioned into being a private caregiver for various patients, who were sometimes difficult but also absolutely lovely. I had several traumatic brain injury Resident Spotlight Lyly Tran, MD UtahAFP.org | 16
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