Why I Wear It

In 1989 I joined the Army - the desperate attempt of an 18 year old young man to get out into the world and see more than his small hometown. During basic training in a broiling Missouri summer one of the first things done to me, besides shaving my hair and riddling my thin body with countless shots, was the granting of a new set of clothes: slightly ill-fitting clothes that I would wear for many, many years to come. They were not fancy, simple patterns of green and brown, a pair of black boots (I would spend countless hours shining to a gleaming luster) and a stiff round, billed cap which, later, proudly bore my ever rising rank.

Basic training was hard for me: grueling months of challenge and change. Through it all, though, my uniform was a source of pride, a physical reminder of what I would eventually become: a soldier. Every night I washed and pressed and hung my precious uniforms, realizing that here was a physical reminder of my transformation. Before basic training I was a civilian. At graduation (which finally came in September) I marched past the podium in precise time wearing a perfectly groomed uniform. The clothes on my back were now merely a reflection of the change that had happened within. I was different - my role in society had changed - I was now in the service of my country and pledged to defend her people even, if needed, with my very life.

Fast forward a few decades and here I am again: not quite as thin and now sporting silver hair along with my original black. This new calling is no less an honor and involves no less a life-altering transformation. The challenges are vast but the final goal remains the same: service to people with my very life. Every morning, when I don that slightly ill-fitting white coat, I am reminded that, by God's grace, I am in training to become a physician. It is an outward and vibrant symbol of a very real change happening within. Instead of weapons of war I am now learning methods for mending. This transformation is reflected in that thin white coat.

My particular medical school does not require that students wear their white coats to class. That's fine. I do anyway. It is my new uniform and a reminder, both to self and society, of my new obligations and my new identity.

This is why I wear it.