Here is a link to the relevant passage of Gifted Hands
At the end of my twelfth grade I marched at the head of the Memorial Day parade. I felt so proud, my chest bursting with ribbons and braids of every kind. To make it more wonderful, we had important visitors that day. Two soldiers who had won the Congressional Medal of Honor in Viet Nam were present. More exciting to me, General William Westmoreland (very prominent in the Viet Nam war) attended with an impressive entourage. Afterward, Sgt. Hunt introduced me to General Westmoreland, and I had dinner with him and the Congressional Medal winners. Later I was offered a full scholarship to West Point.
I didn’t refuse the scholarship outright, but I let them know that a military career wasn’t where I saw myself going. As overjoyed as I felt to be offered such a scholarship, I wasn’t really tempted. The scholarship would have obligated me to spend four years in military service after I finished college, precluding my chances to go on to medical school. I knew my direction—I wanted to be a doctor, and nothing would divert me or stand in the way.
Of course the offer of a full scholarship flattered me. I was developing confidence in my abilities-just like my mother had been telling me for at least the past ten years. Unfortunately I carried it a little too far. I started to believe that I was one of the most spectacular and smartest people in the world. After all, I had made this unprecedented showing in ROTC, and I stood at the top of my school academically. The big colleges wrote to me and sent out their representatives to recruit me.