Hippocrates

I haven't taken my oath yet. It exists far off in the future, a goal equated squarely with the finish line. It is the glorious finale, the shining moment when the transformation is to occur, moving me from just a normal person to an avatar in a white coat, a person capable of saving lives, of being good enough to be a Doctor. The oath might be seen by some as superfluous to the process, a ribbon to break when the shiny new me is unveiled. Beyond this, my school does not even use the traditional oath.

It is half bizarre antiquity, a product of the strange mindset and times of ancient Greece. I have no inherent allegiance to the god Apollo, and I feel no need to share my money with any of my professors (any more than I have already). Neither do I feel that I need to make any oaths about the proper use of slaves (apparently it has to be specifically spelled out that we should not be having sexual relations with our patients or slaves in the oath of the profession). The oath that has been in place for thousands of years proscribes surgery, abortion, and of payment for medical care.

But the oath already means something to me. The modern oath, the promise that I will lead my life and practice my art in uprightness and honor, that I will exercise my art solely for the cure of my patients and the prevention of disease. It is still far away, but with each disease I learn, each concept I learn, it looms closer. It is remarkable the significance it holds, a transformative event that in a way recreates us as physicians. I believe in the oath, and I believe in what it stands for. It is a sign of common purpose, a promise that encapsulates the higher standard to which we are, and should be held. A whole profession has built its ethics around the concepts established three thousand years ago, and because of it, people can trust us with their most important commodity.