Congratulations to our 2024 Winner!
Annalisa Sega Block
Annalisa Sega Block is a dedicated second-year resident at Carolinas Medical Center, specializing in Obstetrics and Gynecology. She earned her medical degree from the University of Central Florida College of Medicine after completing her undergraduate studies at Loyola University New Orleans.
Throughout her medical journey, Annalisa has taken on numerous leadership and advocacy roles. She has served as a March of Dimes Youth Ambassador, sat on the National Volunteer Leadership Council, and actively participated in the Carolinas Medical Center Graduate Medical Education Council. Her commitment to advocacy extends to her involvement with the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology Advocacy Council and her role as Volunteer Service Director at the University of Central Florida College of Medicine. As a National Health Service Corps Scholar, she continues to demonstrate her dedication to serving communities in need.
Annalisa's passion for volunteerism and research has earned her recognition and numerous accolades, including prestigious research awards and grants from notable organizations such as ACMG, ACOG, UCF, and AHA. Her current research endeavors focus on exploring social disparities in health and addressing postpartum mood disorders, reflecting her commitment to improving maternal healthcare outcomes and advocating for equitable access to care.
She feels deeply honored to have been selected as this year's scholarship recipient from a pool of highly qualified applicants. Annalisa eagerly anticipates utilizing the scholarship award to advance her professional aspirations.
I have celebrated with families, and watched newborns be named. I have held patients' hands through terminal cancer diagnoses. I have heard a mother's cry over both their lost newborn…
In March 1996, a 30-week primigravid went to her obstetrician's office for a checkup. She had had an uncomplicated pregnancy thus far, so her family was not with her; her bag was not packed. She was not expecting to be told to go straight to the hospital from her doctor's office, nor was she expecting to deliver her baby the very next day. Her baby that was not supposed to come until June… The medical terms were confusing; she was scared. She did not anticipate a cesarean birth, nor a two-month neonatal intensive care unit stay for her for baby. She did not realize how not holding her baby for the first 17 days of life would affect her own mental health or her bonding experience with her infant. She was not prepared. For any of it.
That was my mother's story, the driving force behind my desire to practice medicine and pursue obstetrics and gynecology. Her struggle with postpartum depression that progressed to major depressive disorder was one of the motivating factors for my research on the effect of cesarean births on mental health. Because of my mother, I published research on additional risk factors for postpartum depression. In addition to her mental health struggles, the way my mother still recalls her fear and confusion in the hospital reminds me to ensure patient clarity and comfort to my best ability. Oftentimes patients in these situations can feel unheard, ignored, and lost. I will never forget a patient telling me she felt so out of control and not herself postpartum that she had seriously considered ending her life. These are the stories I replay, the stories I got to tell at national conferences, written down in manuscripts and a novel draft, and the stories I can continue to tell as I further postpartum mood disorder research at my residency program.
Largely in part due to my prematurity, when I was seven, my mother and I became involved in the March of Dimes, an organization I have been committed to for the past twenty years. My continued involvement and interest resulted in my election as the youngest councilwoman on the March of Dimes National Leadership Council, charged with expanding research on maternal mortality among Black and Latina women. Through my participation in this council, I have had the unique opportunity to connect with obstetricians, pediatricians, lawmakers, and businesses. Throughout my time with the March of Dimes, I have spoken with leaders among the Department of Health and Human Services, United Healthcare, and Connecticut state legislature, to drive tangible change and improve healthcare disparities.
Improving care for underserved patients also has been driven by experiences through local and global outreach, including my work as the Service Director for my medical schools' free clinic. I ran quarterly local and annual global clinics in Florida and Peru. I will never forget that Florida evening, checking a point of care A1c on a sweet elderly patient who was having a bit of altered mental status, and the fear in my heart as it came back at 15%. We had to tell her niece that she really needed to take her to a hospital because we were worried about her. I remember looking for that patient at our next clinic, and the drop in my stomach when she was not there. In an open-air clinic in Peru, I still remember the joy and relief in women's faces when fitting them with pessaries to help with their prolapse and incontinence. We had brought various sizes of 3D-printed pessaries with us so we could offer a treatment solution to local women. The amazement on their faces when they felt the difference, and the amazement on mine when I realized exactly what caring for others is something I won't soon forget.
As an OBGYN, I watched as women with decreased health literacy fought to understand the medical processes occurring in their bodies. I listened as interpreter services translated dire diagnoses over the phone. I, myself, have rushed to explain the need for cesareans, my medical knowledge compounded with the uncertainty and fear I saw in families' eyes. As their resident doctor, I have held countless hands, given many hugs, and helped anxious fathers put on OR scrubs. I have also had the incredible blessing of delivering over 400 beautiful babies in my two years of residency thus far. I have celebrated with families, and watched newborns be named. I have held patients' hands through terminal cancer diagnoses. I have heard a mother's cry over both their lost newborn, and their lost adult child. I stood by a 35-year-old patient as she changed her code status to do-not-resuscitate after her cervical cancer became incurable, and helped her explain her reasoning to her family.
These collective experiences, though potentially upsetting to ponder, are cherished, because I can barely compare the naivety of me prior to these experiences to the intricacy of me now; the difference is so great. It is truly an honor to be an OBGYN.