In Dar, I realized how much patients there appreciated my attempts to speak Swahili. I also recognized the efficiency of not using a translator. Now, a majority of my patients are Spanish-speaking. Before I started my residency, I traveled twice to Guatemala to learn Spanish and to work in the highlands—once with a traditional midwife and once in a free pediatric clinic.

My time in Dar and in Guatemala also exposed me to alternative medical beliefs. There is a difference between gaining an academic understanding of cultural differences and actually experiencing them. After watching a Mayan woman, surrounded by the female members of her family, breathe through labor pains in her midwife's courtyard, it was clear to me why my Guatemalan patient at Providence's Women and Infants Hospital had reservations about intravenous lines and epidural catheters for pain relief.

I am also much more aware of my own shortcomings and of gaps in my understanding. It is a common belief among many Liberian patients that a cesarean section causes permanent infertility, and many patients would choose a stillbirth over a c-section. As the Western physician standing in a labor room, watching and listening to the heart rate of a fetus who is not tolerating labor well, I find it nearly impossible to have a respectful conversation about cultural differences. Sometimes I just don't—just can't—get it. But at least I can see the differences in a way I couldn't have before.

Two years later, I still envision a career improving the lives of women with gynecological cancers in the United States and around the world. I am curious to see what further surprises the future will bring.