The Two Isabels
This past week, my best friend Mario came to visit us in Albuquerque. He brought along his infant daughter, Isabel, who had just turned six months old the weekend before.
Isabel was also the name of Mario’s grandmother.
And for a brief but important season of my life, she was someone very special to me.
Isabel was also the name of Mario’s grandmother.
And for a brief but important season of my life, she was someone very special to me.
A Summer in Houston
In the summer of 2006, Mario’s grandmother had recently undergone hip replacement surgery and needed someone to live with her for the summer to help with daily tasks while she recovered.
Around the same time, I had just moved to Houston to participate in a summer research program at UT McGovern Medical School — the same school where, years later, I would enroll as an MD–PhD student.
The timing worked perfectly. I moved in with Grandma Isabel for the summer.
That summer, I had a lot of fun getting to know her. She was a Cuban immigrant to the United States, and that experience shaped her worldview in countless ways. She had a warmth and perspective that made spending time with her easy and memorable.
I was studying for the MCAT at the time, determined to become a physician. Isabel generously offered me her formal dining room as a quiet study space for the entire summer.
Every evening, after finishing my work in the lab or attending MCAT prep classes, I would come home and sit at the dining room table studying. Sunday through Thursday were devoted entirely to preparation.
Weekends, however, were for a little fun.
My friend Mario was living in Austin then, and every few weeks he would come to Houston so we could explore the city together. I was only 21 years old, and Houston felt enormous and endless. Wandering through the city with one of my best friends was an adventure every time.
The ten weeks living with Grandma Isabel flew by. Before I knew it, it was time to return to college.
In the summer of 2006, Mario’s grandmother had recently undergone hip replacement surgery and needed someone to live with her for the summer to help with daily tasks while she recovered.
Around the same time, I had just moved to Houston to participate in a summer research program at UT McGovern Medical School — the same school where, years later, I would enroll as an MD–PhD student.
The timing worked perfectly. I moved in with Grandma Isabel for the summer.
That summer, I had a lot of fun getting to know her. She was a Cuban immigrant to the United States, and that experience shaped her worldview in countless ways. She had a warmth and perspective that made spending time with her easy and memorable.
I was studying for the MCAT at the time, determined to become a physician. Isabel generously offered me her formal dining room as a quiet study space for the entire summer.
Every evening, after finishing my work in the lab or attending MCAT prep classes, I would come home and sit at the dining room table studying. Sunday through Thursday were devoted entirely to preparation.
Weekends, however, were for a little fun.
My friend Mario was living in Austin then, and every few weeks he would come to Houston so we could explore the city together. I was only 21 years old, and Houston felt enormous and endless. Wandering through the city with one of my best friends was an adventure every time.
The ten weeks living with Grandma Isabel flew by. Before I knew it, it was time to return to college.
A Friendship That Continued
Over the years, Isabel and I stayed in touch.
Two years later, when I returned to Houston to interview at UT McGovern Medical School and Baylor College of Medicine, I stayed with her again.
When I eventually started medical school in Houston, she would occasionally invite me over for meals so we could catch up. She took a real interest in my career and was incredibly proud of the path I was pursuing. Her late husband had been an anesthesiologist in Houston, so she understood the long road that lay ahead.
Her encouragement meant more than she probably realized.
Over the years, Isabel and I stayed in touch.
Two years later, when I returned to Houston to interview at UT McGovern Medical School and Baylor College of Medicine, I stayed with her again.
When I eventually started medical school in Houston, she would occasionally invite me over for meals so we could catch up. She took a real interest in my career and was incredibly proud of the path I was pursuing. Her late husband had been an anesthesiologist in Houston, so she understood the long road that lay ahead.
Her encouragement meant more than she probably realized.
Mario’s Journey
Mario’s life has taken him on a fascinating journey as well.
After college, he spent four years living in Japan teaching English. Later he moved to Atlanta, working odd jobs while preparing for graduate school. Eventually he attended Western Carolina University in Cullowhee, North Carolina, where he trained to become a speech therapist.
Since graduating, he has worked in both Houston and Austin as a speech therapist.
Even though our lives are now full with demanding careers and young children, we still talk almost every day. And we make a point to see each other in person a few times every year.
Mario’s life has taken him on a fascinating journey as well.
After college, he spent four years living in Japan teaching English. Later he moved to Atlanta, working odd jobs while preparing for graduate school. Eventually he attended Western Carolina University in Cullowhee, North Carolina, where he trained to become a speech therapist.
Since graduating, he has worked in both Houston and Austin as a speech therapist.
Even though our lives are now full with demanding careers and young children, we still talk almost every day. And we make a point to see each other in person a few times every year.
Full Circle
Having him visit Albuquerque this past week meant a lot.
We spent time catching up over meals, went to see The Book of Mormon together, and talked about the challenges of fatherhood. I found myself giving him advice about sleep training his daughter — something that, not long ago, I was learning myself.
But what struck me most was his daughter’s name.
Isabel.
The name felt serendipitous.
Holding that baby and hearing her name brought me back to the quiet dining room where her great-grandmother had once given me the space and encouragement I needed to study for the MCAT.
I often tell people that it was Isabel’s generosity that helped me succeed on that exam — and ultimately helped launch my medical career.
Now, years later, as a parent with a little more experience than Mario, it means a lot to give something back to him.
Especially when the person receiving that support carries the same name.
Isabel.
Having him visit Albuquerque this past week meant a lot.
We spent time catching up over meals, went to see The Book of Mormon together, and talked about the challenges of fatherhood. I found myself giving him advice about sleep training his daughter — something that, not long ago, I was learning myself.
But what struck me most was his daughter’s name.
Isabel.
The name felt serendipitous.
Holding that baby and hearing her name brought me back to the quiet dining room where her great-grandmother had once given me the space and encouragement I needed to study for the MCAT.
I often tell people that it was Isabel’s generosity that helped me succeed on that exam — and ultimately helped launch my medical career.
Now, years later, as a parent with a little more experience than Mario, it means a lot to give something back to him.
Especially when the person receiving that support carries the same name.
Isabel.
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