Life has thrown me my share of challenges, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: no circumstance can limit you as long as you stay determined to pursue your dreams.
I was born in Sweden with a congenital heart condition called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS). In short, I’ve lived my entire life with half a heart. Growing up in the 90s, in a time when doctors were still often associated being male and nurses female, the nurses who cared for me became like surrogate mothers, and the doctors like surrogate fathers.
While surgeons performed the life-saving operations that allow me to write this today, it was the nurses who kept me alive after the surgeries. They motivated me, comforted me, and gave me hope. Those experiences shaped my desire to work in healthcare—and specifically, to become a nurse who could make that same difference for others.
After high school, I enrolled in the Bachelor of Science in Nursing program at Karolinska Institutet, one of the top-ranked institutions globally. I started my journey full of excitement, but little did I know how underappreciated and overworked nurses were worldwide. This frustration drove me to take on leadership roles early in my career. Two semesters in, I became president of my nursing program, acting as a bridge between students and faculty to improve the curriculum. Soon after, I was elected vice president of the National Student Nurses Union in Sweden and later represented Sweden on the board of the European Nursing Student Association (ENSA). In these roles, I worked passionately on issues like fair compensation for nurses and the need to standardize nursing education across Europe to make it easier for nurses to work internationally. One important lesson I quickly learned in these leadership positions was this: if you don’t use your voice, someone else will use your silence.
During my bachelor’s program, I discovered the role of nurse anesthetists, a profession present in many countries, albeit in different forms. In Scandinavia, nurse anesthetists work more like Certified Anesthesiologist Assistants (CAAs) in the U.S.—with less training and more supervision. Despite these differences, I was fascinated by the field, especially because of my personal experiences with anesthesia as a child. Some of my memories of being in the OR are comforting, while others are terrifying. Those experiences sparked a deep desire to ensure that every patient I care for feels safe, understood, and supported in their most vulnerable moments.
In 2021, I earned my Master’s in Anesthesia in Sweden. Shortly after, an incredible opportunity to move to the United States came my way. I was excited but quickly realized that the nurse anesthesia profession in the U.S. was vastly different. Here, CRNAs (Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetists)—now referred to as Nurse Anesthesiologists by the AANA— a title that better represents their independence, autonomy, and expert-level care. greater independence, autonomy, and recognition as experts in their field.
I knew I wanted to pursue a CRNA career, but the road was far from easy. As a new immigrant, I began working in a Cardiothoracic Intensive Care Unit (CTICU) at one of the largest academic hospitals in New York City. The transition was rough. I had to learn medical vocabulary in English, adapt to a hierarchical culture where doctors often viewed nurses as subordinates (a sharp contrast to Sweden), and care for patients who were significantly sicker due to a lack of preventive care in the U.S. But I pushed through.
After a year in the CTICU, I earned my CCRN, CSC, and CMC certifications—all within three weeks. Armed with these credentials and my year of experience, I began applying to CRNA programs
Applying to CRNA school as an immigrant with a Swedish education was no small feat. Swedish universities use a pass/fail grading system, which made many U.S. schools hesitant to consider my application. Programs that did consider me often converted my grades to a 3.0 GPA—not exactly the most competitive starting point.
On top of that, my transcripts didn’t clearly showcase my coursework, as much of it was integrated into broader themes. Many programs suggested I retake all prerequisite courses in the U.S. to improve my application.
Undeterred, I scoured CRNA databases provided by theCRNAclub, emailed countless schools, and searched every program website for hints that they might consider an unconventional applicant like me. Eventually, about ten schools agreed to review my application. I applied to two programs—and before I could apply to more, I got an interview and secured a seat. This was in June, and I was lucky to enroll in a cohort starting shortly after my interview.
As I write this, I’m wrapping up my first semester of CRNA school, and I couldn’t be more grateful. This journey hasn’t been easy—I had to leave New York City and move across the country to the West Coast to make it happen. But when you want something badly enough, sacrifices are part of the deal.
What do I wanna say with all this? If a boy from a small town in Sweden, with half a heart, can make it all the way to the United States and get into a CRNA program, so can you.
To anyone out there dreaming of becoming a CRNA, know this: I know everyone wants to compare “stats” but listen, your GPA doesn’t define you. Your determination, resilience, and willingness to work for your goals matter far more. Yes, you’ll face challenges. Yes, you’ll have to make sacrifices. But if you stay focused and use every resource available to you, you can achieve what you once thought was impossible.
No matter where you’re from or what obstacles you face, you are capable of greatness.
All the best,
Milo
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