Author name: Wearing2Gowns
“The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows… But it ain’t how hard you hit; it’s about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward.” — Rocky Balboa
I am a former medical student seeking a new direction. A NEW way FORWARD.
That simple sentence carries the weight of massive student loan debt, crushed dreams, and a system that gave up on me when I needed support most. But it also holds something else: the unshakeable belief that my story isn’t over—it’s just being rewritten mid-chapter.
How I Got Here
I came to medical school as a nurse who had earned my degree the hard way—paying as I went while working, with no loans, just determination and faith in a calling I felt deeply. When I decided to pursue a career in medicine, I took on massive student debt with the expectation that medical school would provide the “big shovel” I needed to dig out of it.
During medical school, I was diagnosed with ADHD and migraines—invisible disabilities that made an already challenging journey even harder. As a parent of a child with autism, I understood the need for accommodations and support systems. But when my body became a limitation instead of a tool, when speaking up about needed accommodations came at costs I hadn’t calculated, I discovered what it meant to be a student who “slipped through the cracks.”
The institution gave up on me. Despite my willingness to pursue additional procedures that could have helped, they refused to allow it and instead acted against me. I found myself excluded from the very profession I’d devoted years to pursuing—left with crushing educational debt but without the career to manage it.
The Breaking Point
What broke me wasn’t just the academic dismissal. It was the realization that the same people who had placed that white coat on my shoulders were the ones who signed off on my exclusion. It was watching my wife experience secondary trauma from what happened to me. It was understanding that the system I’d trusted had weaponized my vulnerability against me.
But as I wrote about Gatsby, there comes a moment when you have to stop reaching for a green light that no longer exists and start swimming forward instead of rowing against the current.
What I’ve Learned
Trauma strips away illusions about fairness and meritocracy. That’s devastating when it happens. But it’s also freeing. Because once you know the game is rigged, you stop trying to win by their rules. You start making new rules. Better rules.
My gallbladder surgery significantly improved my cognitive function, but by then, my wife and I had already concluded that this chapter of my story had ended. We learned that God sometimes rewrites your story mid-chapter, and the most beautiful stories are often those that have been rewritten.
Why I Write
The students write to me now. Medical students fighting for accommodations, battling discrimination, asking if it’s “safe” to speak up about systemic failures. They’re the reason I do this work. Some are justified in their fear, and it is evident in many ways. I am also not the best equipped to be an advocate, a role that was thrust upon me. However, given that it was given to me, I intend to do it wholeheartedly and to the best of my ability.
My purpose is crystal clear: to ensure that no student ever has to endure the pain and suffering I experienced.
Through this blog, I share what I’ve learned about:
Navigating medical education with invisible disabilities
The cost of speaking up in hostile systems
Building community when institutions fail us
Finding faith and purpose in forced reinvention
Creating spaces where wounded healers belong
Using the medical knowledge to provide informational articles with the public
The Two Gowns
This blog’s title reflects my dual identity: wearing both the white coat of medical aspiration and the invisible gown of disability and difference. I’ve learned these identities need not be contradictory—that the very experiences that led to my exclusion from traditional medicine have equipped me to heal in ways I never imagined.
I continue my medical studies through ANKI, a digital flash card popular among medical students, and keep pathways open for PA, DO, NP, or further nursing specialization. I’m actively involved with Medical Students with Disabilities and Chronic Illnesses (MSDCI), and I use this platform to advocate for systemic change in medical education.
What’s Next
Like Gatsby, I spent too long reaching for a green light that no longer existed—trying to row back against the current to recreate what was. But as I learned, survivors don’t die reaching for something that was never really there. We create what should be.
I’m no longer trying to recreate what was. I’m building something new—a world where speaking up is valued rather than punished, where accommodations are seen as tools for equity rather than signs of weakness, where systems serve all humans, not just the ones who fit traditional molds.
The stethoscope still hangs in my closet—not from defeat, but as a reminder that healing is my calling, not just my profession. When institutions say no, but God says YES. Whether I heal through medicine or ministry, the calling remains. The Heart that called me to heal still beats.
Some of us are still looking for a way forward. Still believing that our voices matter in the conversation about what medical education could become. Still hoping that the future has room for students who wear both gowns.
We get to stop reaching for the green light and start being it for someone else.
Connect With Me
If you’re a student facing similar challenges, a family member navigating the medical education system, or someone who believes that wounded healers have something essential to offer, I want to hear from you.
Find me on:
The Comment Section of WearingTwoGowns.blog
Instagram: @wearingtwogowns.blog for encouragement and community
YouTube: @Didyouknow.Remindertolookup – Exploring thought-provoking content that challenges how we think about healing and purpose
Your story might be exactly what someone else needs to hear today.
Because if “Learning Built for Humans” doesn’t include all humans—especially the ones who don’t fit traditional molds—then we’re just building a more beautiful version of the same system that failed us in the first place.
Former medical student looking for a way forward—and lighting the path for others to follow.
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” — Romans 8:28
