Many years ago, when I was a volunteer taking care of patients at the height of the AIDS crisis, I wore scrubs, a pajama-like uniform preferred by medical personnel consisting of a short-sleeved shirt and pants with a tie string. I even had my name, rendered as “Dr. Glenn,” sewn on the breast pocket of the shirt. The joke was that I was authorized to use the title “doctor” because I had earned a PhD. Never mind that I wasn’t a physician.

I ended up with half a dozen scrub sets. I still have them and occasionally wear them to lounge around in or for a quick run to the store when I don’t want to get fully dressed. I am proud of my doctoral degree, but it almost never gets recognized (as an author I’m known just as “Tom Glenn,” not “Dr. Tom Glenn”). So on the rare occasions that I wear my scrubs, I particularly enjoy being addressed as “Dr. Glenn.”

I’m considering wearing a pair of scrubs when I go in for my eye surgery on tomorrow. If I do, I’ll let you know what happens.

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