Growing up, I never imagined I’d become a doctor. I was set on other paths. In high school, I toyed with becoming a lawyer like my dad, or even a professional golfer on the LPGA tour—if only my golf game had been up to par! By the time I entered college, I was committed to becoming a veterinarian. But one day changed that path completely.
It was my third year of college, a day like any other, with my organic chemistry lab starting bright and early at 8:00 a.m. I was focused, pouring all my energy into earning top grades, especially in the sciences, to secure my spot in vet school. I noticed a bit more commotion than usual in the hallways, but brushed it off. After finishing my lab work, I walked out around 11:30 to find the campus nearly deserted. A few people were scattered about, faces filled with shock and sorrow. It was September 11, 2001—a day that would reshape the course of my life.
The events of that day stirred a deep sense of duty within me. I felt a calling to serve, to somehow contribute to preventing future tragedies. I researched my options carefully, still keeping my veterinarian dream in sight. I decided to join the Army Reserve, hoping it would allow me to serve while continuing my studies. I had a plan: finish college, get accepted into vet school, and become an officer. But when I went to enlist, I discovered that no Reserve jobs in veterinary services were available nearby. However, there was an opening for a "healthcare specialist." It sounded close enough, so I signed on.
I finished my third year of college and set off for Basic Training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina followed by Advanced Individual Training (AIT) in San Antonio, Texas. I soon learned that "healthcare specialist" was just military jargon for "combat medic," and I found myself receiving an intense level of medical training that I hadn’t anticipated. To my surprise, I thrived in the training, graduating near the top of my class. Yet, even then, I held firm to my veterinary dreams. After returning home to Kentucky, I rejoined my Reserve unit and resumed college—or so I thought.
Only a few months later, my unit was called to active duty. Once again, I put my studies on hold and became a full-time soldier, serving in the Emergency Department at Ireland Army Community Hospital at Fort Knox. It was my first true exposure to the medical field, and I found myself drawn to the work. Yet I clung to my plans, telling everyone I still intended to become a veterinarian. Meanwhile, the ER doctors I worked with noticed my knack for medicine, encouraging me to consider a different path. But I resisted, deterred by their tales of burnout.
After two years in the ER, I took up an opportunity to train as an optometry and ophthalmology technician—a decision I had no idea would influence my future so strongly. Back in Texas for eye tech training, I again excelled, graduating at the top of my class. The Army Reserve had few eye technicians, so I soon found myself tapped for medical humanitarian missions.
On my second such mission, in Bolivia, I worked alongside a team that included two family medicine residents. Watching them practice medicine was a revelation. These doctors approached their work with enthusiasm and purpose, blending skill with compassion. I noticed they used their hands to treat patients in ways I’d never seen. Curious, I learned they were osteopathic physicians, or DOs, and the techniques they used were called osteopathic manipulative treatment (OMT). I hadn’t realized there were two types of physicians in the U.S., and I was captivated by this hands-on approach.
What started as a single semester break from college for military training stretched into a four-year hiatus. Over time, my exposure to healthcare transformed my goals, and I felt my calling shift from veterinary to human medicine. When I finally set my sights on medical school, I knew I wanted to follow the path of those DOs I’d met in Bolivia.
I completed my undergraduate degree, took the MCAT, and discovered, to my delight, that Kentucky had its own osteopathic medical school. Before starting this new chapter, I served one final stint of active duty at Camp Shelby in Mississippi. During that tour, I applied to and was accepted by the University of Pikeville–Kentucky College of Osteopathic Medicine. In July 2010, at age 29, I officially began my medical school journey.
Looking back, I realize how unpredictable and perfect life’s turns can be. Joining the Army set me on a path I could never have foreseen, guiding me toward medicine and ultimately giving me the confidence to open my own direct primary care clinic. I’m grateful for the medical and leadership training I received, for the people who influenced me along the way, and for the courage these experiences instilled in me to pursue my calling.
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