When I left the military in the early 2000s due to service-connected disabilities, I tried to rebuild my life as best as I could. I went back home to the Pacific Northwest and attended the University of Washington as an undergraduate, trying to partake of college life as best I could while addressing the physical and psychological trauma I endured as a result of my service. Fundamentally, this was a process I had to work alone — along with being a disabled veteran, I am also a first-generation college student as well as the child of immigrants. So it was a process that happened in fits and starts, and was far from direct.
Given what I had encountered, I felt I had to put down my childhood dream of becoming a physician, instead pursuing training as an engineer to improve science and technology policy in D.C.
It was a path I pursued for roughly two decades, until I left my last D.C.-area job in July 2023. The change was influenced by the death of two of my mentors: one of my undergraduate professors at the University of Washington and a professor I had at Cornell as a grad student. I decided finally to pursue what I feel is my utmost purpose in life — my childhood dream of becoming a doctor.
But now, because of new limits passed under the federal government’s “One Big Beautiful Bill Act,” I may never be able to afford to go to med school. And I’m not alone.
The law, signed on Independence Day this year, imposes strict caps on federal student loans — particularly for graduate and professional education. Borrowing is now capped at $50,000 per year, and $200,000 in total for degrees like MDs and JDs, the degrees needed to become a doctor or lawyer. While that $200,000 might sound like a generous amount to someone unfamiliar with medical school costs, the reality is that four years of tuition and fees alone often exceed $300,000 at public schools. Add in living expenses, and the total often climbs over $400,000. If you attend medical school at a private institution, that cost is usually well over half a million dollars.
Until now, many of us, especially those who are traditionally underrepresented in the medical and legal professions, relied on federal Grad PLUS loans to make up the difference. These loans weren’t perfect, but they at least allowed students without generational wealth — students like me — to access education on a level playing field.
But the “big beautiful bill,” regardless of its intent, eliminates that flexibility, disproportionately locking out students from underrepresented socioeconomic or disability backgrounds. In doing so, it quietly slams the door shut on countless Americans who want to serve their communities as physicians, lawyers, nurses, social workers and more.
I’ve already used up my VA education benefits — not by waste or indulgence, but by necessity. I relied on Chapter 31 Vocational Rehabilitation to complete my undergraduate degree after leaving service. At the time, every month of Voc Rehab used meant losing a month of GI Bill eligibility. By the time that policy changed, it was too late for me to recover those benefits. And even when I was in funded graduate programs, the stipends did not cover my living expenses, let alone the full cost of living with disabilities and needing to seek care mostly outside of the VA system.
Now, under the new loan limits, I am expected to find a way to privately finance medical school. For someone like me, who is older, disabled and without financial cosigners, private lending is a steep, often insurmountable hill. There are no safety nets. There is no path forward. Not unless the policy is reversed.
What makes this even more devastating is how quietly it will do damage. No one is telling young veterans who are unable to return to the military they can’t apply to med school. No one is barring first-generation students outright. Instead, the system is simply redesigning itself around an implicit message: “Only those who can pay up front need apply.”
Supporters of the new law argue that capping student borrowing will control tuition inflation. But tuition isn’t inflating because veterans are going back to school. Tuition is inflating because federal and state funding for education has declined for decades, while institutions have become increasingly dependent on cost-shifting to students. The new caps don’t address the root cause — they just push the burden down the ladder.
If the aim was to cut waste or reduce unnecessary debt, there are better ways. Means-testing, greater program oversight, and targeted support for high-need professions could all be part of a smarter, more compassionate approach. Instead, the policy penalizes non-traditional students and working adults — especially those pursuing service-oriented professions.
People like me, who served our country, who overcame obstacles, who want to give back, are now being told: “You’re too expensive.” For all the patriotic language surrounding this bill, it does not honor service, it does not promote opportunity, and it does not build a better future. It simply makes it harder to believe in one.
A.P.D.G. Everett , an aspiring physician, is a current biomedical engineering masters student at the University of Vermont who has a two-decade career in federal-sector engineering and consulting & is a post-9/11 USAF veteran.
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