- Reading time: 3 minutes
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- Published: 5th October 2026
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Personal statement example
Part of my job as a records access administrator at an NHS hospital trust is handling requests from parents who want to see their children's health records. When the child is fifteen, I cannot simply photocopy the file and post it. The request goes to a clinician, who considers whether the young person can understand the request themselves and whether disclosure would be in their interests. My role is administrative: I check identity, log deadlines and prepare the bundle. Yet each of these cases reminds me that a routine form can carry difficult questions about who holds authority over a person's body and information. I want to study healthcare ethics and law so that I can understand those questions properly, rather than only the procedures built around them.
My interest began during my undergraduate Law degree, which I completed with a 2:1. For my dissertation I examined how Gillick competence has been applied since the House of Lords decided Gillick v West Norfolk and Wisbech Area Health Authority in 1985. I compared the judgment's emphasis on a young person's maturity and understanding with later cases in which courts overrode the refusal of treatment by competent minors. I argued that the law treats a teenager's consent and refusal unequally, and I questioned whether this rests on a coherent account of autonomy or on a protective instinct that the judgments rarely state openly. The research taught me to read judgments closely for their underlying assumptions. It also showed me the limits of a purely doctrinal approach. I could describe what the courts did, but I lacked the philosophical tools to judge whether they were right.
Since graduating I have read to fill that gap. Onora O'Neill's Autonomy and Trust in Bioethics challenged me most. Her argument that bioethics has relied too heavily on individual autonomy, and too little on the conditions that make trust between patients and institutions possible, changed how I see my own work. Confidentiality rules can look like barriers to a frustrated parent. O'Neill helped me see them as part of what allows a teenager to speak honestly to a doctor. I have also followed how Montgomery v Lanarkshire Health Board moved informed consent away from what a body of doctors would disclose and towards what a reasonable patient would want to know. I am curious about how far that shift has changed everyday practice, and an online programme would let me explore this while staying in a setting where I can watch consent and confidentiality operate.
My job has developed skills that I think will serve me well in postgraduate study. Statutory deadlines for subject access requests mean I manage a steady caseload accurately, and I regularly explain decisions in plain language to people who are anxious or annoyed. I have learnt to separate what the law requires from what a caller assumes it requires, and to refer questions beyond my role to the right colleague rather than guess. Last year I helped revise the trust's guidance leaflet on requesting records, testing drafts with volunteers from the patient panel until the explanations made sense to them.
Outside work I ring bells at my local church on Sunday mornings and at a weekly practice night. Learning methods such as Plain Bob means memorising patterns and holding my place while seven other people do the same, and it has given me patience with slow, cumulative progress. It is also a reliable break from screens after a day of scanned documents.
Studying online would let me keep working while I read, and I expect each to sharpen the other. I would bring careful legal reasoning, practical familiarity with how health information is handled, and a real wish to test my arguments against people from clinical and philosophical backgrounds who will see these problems differently from me.