I like rites of passage. I think I am the kind of person who finds ceremony, ritual, and tradition meaningful, imbued with some sort of depth and epiphany that one misses in everyday life. Graduation calls attention to this transformation that happens in bits and pieces. The becoming of a doctor is a four year process, scattered over 1000+ days and blog posts, but the day celebrating this accomplishment also completes it. I am no different today than I was two days ago. Or indeed, a year ago since most of the core learning happened during my third year of medical school. But the title of doctor was unbecoming until graduation. Even now, it is still an awkward appendage, but at least it feels in some way bestowed.
This celebration draws together community - not only family and friends, but also the academic community at UCSF and the medical community at large - and serves as a confirmation, a welcoming into the fold of physicians. It recognizes that medical school is not the easiest four years. It cherishes that bond we've formed as a class through experiences that few people go through. It shows us how proud our greatest supporters are of us. It carries pomp and circumstance.
I think the finality of medical school only comes with reflection, at least for me. It is in the quiet moments, the interior of thoughts, the typing of this blog that I begin to understand myself. Receiving the title Doctor of Medicine - an assumption of an estate of healer - is not so much a summation of my medical knowledge or clinical skills but rather the recognition that I can help others and the oath to do so. Now, I feel comfortable with people facing the gravest, most terrifying, and most personal of challenges, and I want to be there for them. I put on the white coat and stethoscope four years ago, but that's just a piece of cloth and a rubber-and-metal contraption. Those accoutrement now feel heavier because they are accompanied by those rights, responsibilities, and privileges accorded to me not by some title, but by a body of work and dedication.
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