Lance Gillingham Memorial Scholarship

On patient survey #200 in Guatemala, I marked the time—1830. Strange how 12 hours could fly by. It was the same in Peru, Colombia, Haiti, Honduras, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic—wherever I went. As long as I was assisting patients, my fatigue was subdued by joy as I interacted with them and saw their smiles. These moments, caring for people with limited resources, helped me understand something the Navy first awakened in me: my purpose runs deeper than duty—it’s about human connection. For ten years, I served as a Surface Warfare Officer (SWO) in the United States Navy. I navigated billion-dollar warships through peaceful and hostile waters, led combat operations, and managed intricate administrative systems. But beneath the tactics and machinery, what shaped me most was caring for my Sailors. Their physical and emotional well-being became my deepest responsibility. I remember one day vividly: as another six-foot wave struck our 74-foot patrol boat, I lost the remainder of my breakfast to the Eastern Pacific. That day, my team and I rotated through watch stations, provided security escorts, and battled unrelenting seasickness—but despite the brutal conditions, our search and rescue mission remained our priority. We persevered through illness, dehydration, and exhaustion because we had no choice. Yet, as miserable as we felt, I took pride in ensuring my Sailors had what they needed to push forward. My greatest responsibility as a Naval Officer was and always will be to protect and prepare my team, but I learned early that true readiness is not just physical; true readiness is more holistic and requires a deep understanding of each individual’s mind, body, and spirit. That shift in self-perception—from strategist to caregiver—laid the foundation for who I am today. The military didn’t just give me skills; it reshaped my identity. It taught me that leadership isn’t about barking orders from the bridge—it’s about showing up in people’s lives when it matters most, and that realization is what pushed me to pursue medicine. Now, as a medical student studying osteopathic medicine, I’ve found a path that blends my Navy values with clinical compassion. Osteopathic manipulative treatment (OMT)—a hands-on, drug-free approach to healing—resonates deeply with my military experience, especially the reality of caring for people in austere, resource-limited environments. I hope to bring this training back to the fleet, where physicians are often the only lifeline for Sailors far from home. Serving in uniform also transformed how I view my country. I’ve seen its strength—but also its gaps. I’ve treated U.S. citizens who couldn’t afford health care, worked with Sailors who couldn’t afford off-base treatments, and volunteered in underserved communities within the USA like the Rosebud Indian Reservation, where families live hours from medical attention. I’ve supported veterans with Parkinson’s disease and consoled disaster victims in my Florida community as a Red Cross volunteer. These experiences have taught me that patriotism isn't blind allegiance—it’s a commitment to keep improving the country we serve. The military gave me pride in our nation’s ideals but also the humility to recognize where we fall short and the responsibility to make it better. The transition from SWO to DO has not been easy. Navigating VA bureaucracy, struggling with delays in benefits, and facing the financial weight of medical school have tested me. But they’ve also reinforced the very lessons the military taught me: resilience, purpose, and service. I no longer see myself as just a former officer or a future doctor—I see myself as someone molded by both worlds, driven to serve the people behind the mission.

It's important to mention that when 9/11 happened, I was in fourth grade at the time, and at that point, all I knew was I was going to join the fight. Entering the military, I had some of the most significant opportunities to grow as a human being. Joining at 17, I was undisciplined, and through my cadre and the flight I was assigned, I learned more about being more than one's self. My bunkmate, a person I flew in with from Detroit, became our dorm chief. In our seventh week, he collapsed and later died. During that last week, I remembered our conversation about going to Ryan's, a local chain in Michigan. Through his memory, I learned that life is precious and our time matters. He tirelessly assisted us through the many obstacles that we faced; because of this, I chose to selflessly ensure that individuals that I met in the future would never be without someone. Day or night, I always picked up the phone for someone, happening many times in Biloxi. The second training phase at Sheppard hit me the hardest when we discovered we had lost another airman who had checked into his first base, which hurt the most when no one in formation knew his name. That failed our core value of "Never Leave an Airman Behind." Once again, this drove me to know everyone possible, which I carried to my first base. This put me in a lot of dark situations as mental health finds itself to be a significant component that plagues the military. My efforts were never for ribbons or awards, even with my countless hours of community service assisting disabled veterans and the local animal rescue. I believe one of the more notable events was during a car crash; I pulled a civilian out of a burning car, and then I realized what it meant to put "Service Before Self." afterward, I administered medical support that I learned through the military until rescue crews could arrive. The people I served with changed my view that freedom doesn't come free, which I learned from being attached to AFSOC deployed. I also learned you can only be in a country with other people. That deployment brought me closer to that truth, as we served tier 1 operators and foreign fighters. Because of this, I also learned that hope and bravery can prevail when the world gets dark. This was taught to me through the death of Moaz al-Kasasbeh, for who I wear a bracelet in memory of his sacrifice. In further answering the question of impacted life regarding the military. I left the military with the view that our country needs people to keep the legacy and torch burning that our forefathers built this country on, which was brotherhood. I have spent the last few years walking the halls of the VA, homeless camps, and nursing homes, working with veterans and always attempting to keep their legacy alive through the stories they tell me.