MDedge Dermatology

According to the US Department of Defense (DoD), proper wear of the military uniform and adherence to grooming standards are essential components of military discipline and unit cohesion.^1,2 The DoD posits that personal appearance reflects the professionalism, integrity, and accountability expected of all service members. These standards promote a shared identity and reinforce the discipline required for military organizations to operate as cohesive, unified, mission-oriented teams. Personal appearance embodies integrity, commitment to duty, and respect for institutional norms.^1,2 In some situations, grooming standards also carry critical operational relevance; for example, the DoD states that a clean-shaven face is necessary to ensure a proper seal for gas masks and other personal protective equipment used in combat environments, especially when chemical or biological weapons are used.³ The Uniform Code of Military Justice states that service members who fail to comply with grooming standards, unless exempted, are subject to disciplinary action.⁴

In early March 2025, new directives from the DoD prompted a comprehensive review of personal grooming standards and wear of military uniforms across the uniformed services. The stated goal of these revisions was to enhance discipline, professionalism, and military readiness.^5,6 These policy updates reversed several grooming accommodations introduced in prior administrations that allowed greater flexibility in personal appearance and hair-grooming practices for service members. The 2025 revised standards entail re-examination and rewriting regulations that govern grooming standards.

The new grooming regulations are likely to have major effects on service members with pseudofolliculitis barbae (PFB), a chronic inflammatory condition of the facial skin that often occurs due to and is aggravated by repeated close shaving. Through most of their histories, each US military branch has required a clean, smooth-shaven facial appearance that entailed regular (usually daily) shaving of facial hair; however, service-specific grooming instructions and medical guidelines have permitted commanders to authorize temporary or permanent ­exemptions or waivers for service members with PFB. To obtain a shaving waiver, individuals with PFB work closely with a military medical officer to design a shaving strategy that will not exacerbate PFB. If medical management was unsuccessful, the medical officer usually prepared a recommendation for a shaving waiver that also required approval from the service member’s commanding officer. Waivers were handled on a case-by-case basis and could be temporary (eg, for 3 months), recurring/­renewable, or permanent.

The recent policy shifts make it difficult for service members to obtain renewable and permanent shaving waivers, raising concerns about medical outcomes and readiness implications. In this article, we examine the updated facial hair grooming standards across the uniformed services with a focus on the medical, regulatory, and administrative management of PFB.

Background and Policy Shifts

In March 2025, the Secretary of Defense ordered a widespread review of grooming standards in the armed forces.⁶ In accordance with this directive, the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine Corps made revisions to their uniform and grooming regulations. In August 2025, the Secretary of Defense issued a memorandum that reinforced the expectation that service members remain clean shaven and introduced additional limits on medical waivers.⁷ Under this policy, medical officers must provide written recommendations, while commanders remain the final approval authority. Service members with approved shaving waivers for PFB also must participate in a medical treatment plan for the condition. Importantly, the memorandum directed unit commanders to initiate separation for service members in any branch who continue to require a shaving waiver after more than 1 year of medical management. This directive underscores the DoD’s emphasis on uniformity and cohesion as visible markers of professionalism and the “warrior ethos.”⁷

Regulatory Framework and Enforcement

Beginning in March 2025, centrally mandated revisions to existing directives introduced more restrictive grooming and appearance standards across all military services. A key area of enforcement involves strict management of medical shaving waivers, particularly those related to PFB, which indicates a reversal of previous accommodations. Because of the lack of effective treatment for intractable PFB, the DoD previously has permitted service members to obtain permanent shaving waivers. The use of long-term waivers reduced administrative burden by removing the need for repeated evaluations and routine renewal paperwork, thereby decreasing the workload for service members, medical officers, and commanders. In the Army and Marine Corps, new grooming standards^8,9 eliminate permanent waivers and prohibit pro forma renewals or extensions of existing waivers. Service members with PFB must seek a medical provider who will conduct a new full clinical evaluation, prepare new documentation requesting another temporary shaving waiver, and submit the application for the commander’s review and approval.

The Air Force also has adopted a stricter stance on shaving waivers. Under previous guidelines, service members diagnosed with PFB were eligible for a 5-year waiver that did not require annual renewal.¹⁰ However, the new 2025 guidelines eliminated this option. Now, waivers are subject to increased scrutiny and may be extended only for service members with severe, well-documented cases of PFB. In addition, the waiver must be approved by the commanding officer.¹¹ The updated policy does not specify whether an existing waiver can be continued (ie, rolled over) or if a complete de novo waiver is required.

The new policies that eliminate long-term waivers introduce logistical and administrative requirements that are likely to be time consuming, at multiple levels of the military. In the Army and Marine Corps, it is immaterial whether the request comes from a new recruit or from a seasoned service member who has had a shaving waiver for their entire career. Under the new policy, every waiver requires a formal medical appointment with a licensed health care provider, documentation and case review, completion of a standardized waiver form with the provider’s signature, and signed approval by the commanding officer.⁸

Across military services, available data indicate a substantial rise in shaving waivers over the past decade. Between 2021 and 2023, the number of active-duty Air Force personnel with PFB-related shaving waivers increased from 10,965 to 18,991.¹² Meanwhile, the Army has reported that more than 40,000 new shaving waivers were issued in 2024.¹³ While Black service members comprise roughly 15% of the active-duty force, they account for 66% of shaving waiver holders.¹⁴

Implications and Perspectives

Shaving waivers had provided a medically and administratively supported avenue for managing PFB within the relevant service requirements; however, the new policies have mandated a shift toward more regulated timelines for waiver evaluation and renewal, prohibition of permanent shaving waivers, and shortened durations of temporary shaving waivers.¹⁵ These changes impose higher time demands and administrative responsibilities on affected service members, on the chain of command, and on the US Army Medical Department.

The new guidelines reintroduced a command-level policy for PFB that differs from the clinically focused recommendations outlined in the Army’s official medical guidance on PFB.^8,15 The new directives also explicitly tie an individual’s potential eligibility to remain in the Army—across active, reserve, and National Guard components—to their ability to meet the new facial-hair grooming standards.⁸ The policy sets a clear benchmark for retention: failing to meet grooming standards for 12 or more months within a 24-month period automatically launches a process that leads to administrative separation. Similarly, a new Marine Corps directive authorizes administrative separation for Marines who require a medical grooming waiver for more than 1 year.¹¹ These branch-specific changes appear to implement a broader DoD policy outlined in the August 2025 memorandum, which represents a tightening of medical shaving waivers across all branches by limiting them to no more than 1 year in duration before triggering a review for administrative separation.⁷ Additional implications also may include increased utilization of laser hair removal (LHR) for service members for whom conservative management has failed and who wish to pursue more definitive options. Given the potential career implications of PFB, LHR may become a more frequently considered intervention among military and civilian dermatologists. In the civilian sector, TRICARE covers LHR for active-duty service members when deemed medically necessary and unavailable at their military treatment facility.¹⁴ Consequently, civilian dermatologists may see an increase in referrals from military personnel seeking LHR to maintain compliance with grooming standards under the new policy framework.

Final Thoughts

Military personnel, their chain of command, and the military medical system are keenly aware of the DoD’s newly mandated policy changes regarding grooming standards. There are many circumstances in which military personnel (eg, active-duty service members, reservists, National Guard members) receive medical care from civilian providers, who may not be up to date on changes in the military’s approach toward grooming. Civilian dermatologists may be the first to diagnose or treat PFB in prospective recruits and should be aware that under current DoD policy, failure to meet grooming standards can lead to premature separation from military service. Civilian providers who are aware that the DoD’s policies on shaving and waivers have changed dramatically can discuss these implications when evaluating or counseling patients with a history of or risk for PFB. Previously published guidelines for service members seeking a shaving waiver for PFB are listed in eTable 1.^10,16-23 The current changes, which remove various accommodations that previously had been introduced, are detailed in eTable 2.^7-9,15,24

The grooming policy changes, particularly in the Army and Marines, require de novo waivers, which are likely to increase health care costs as measured in time and dollars. Each waiver cycle involves medical evaluation, documentation, and chain-of-command review. The cumulative work of these recurring requirements becomes considerable when scaled across the force.

As the military’s grooming policies evolve, ongoing evaluation of their effects on service members and unit readiness remains important. Continued data collection, transparent communication, and collaboration among military institutions and health care providers may help ensure that future policy updates maintain operational standards while also supporting the health and well-being of the force.

According to the US Department of Defense (DoD), proper wear of the military uniform and adherence to grooming standards are essential components of military discipline and unit cohesion.^1,2 The DoD posits that personal appearance reflects the professionalism, integrity, and accountability expected of all service members. These standards promote a shared identity and reinforce the discipline required for military organizations to operate as cohesive, unified, mission-oriented teams. Personal appearance embodies integrity, commitment to duty, and respect for institutional norms.^1,2 In some situations, grooming standards also carry critical operational relevance; for example, the DoD states that a clean-shaven face is necessary to ensure a proper seal for gas masks and other personal protective equipment used in combat environments, especially when chemical or biological weapons are used.³ The Uniform Code of Military Justice states that service members who fail to comply with grooming standards, unless exempted, are subject to disciplinary action.⁴

In early March 2025, new directives from the DoD prompted a comprehensive review of personal grooming standards and wear of military uniforms across the uniformed services. The stated goal of these revisions was to enhance discipline, professionalism, and military readiness.^5,6 These policy updates reversed several grooming accommodations introduced in prior administrations that allowed greater flexibility in personal appearance and hair-grooming practices for service members. The 2025 revised standards entail re-examination and rewriting regulations that govern grooming standards.

The new grooming regulations are likely to have major effects on service members with pseudofolliculitis barbae (PFB), a chronic inflammatory condition of the facial skin that often occurs due to and is aggravated by repeated close shaving. Through most of their histories, each US military branch has required a clean, smooth-shaven facial appearance that entailed regular (usually daily) shaving of facial hair; however, service-specific grooming instructions and medical guidelines have permitted commanders to authorize temporary or permanent ­exemptions or waivers for service members with PFB. To obtain a shaving waiver, individuals with PFB work closely with a military medical officer to design a shaving strategy that will not exacerbate PFB. If medical management was unsuccessful, the medical officer usually prepared a recommendation for a shaving waiver that also required approval from the service member’s commanding officer. Waivers were handled on a case-by-case basis and could be temporary (eg, for 3 months), recurring/­renewable, or permanent.

The recent policy shifts make it difficult for service members to obtain renewable and permanent shaving waivers, raising concerns about medical outcomes and readiness implications. In this article, we examine the updated facial hair grooming standards across the uniformed services with a focus on the medical, regulatory, and administrative management of PFB.

Background and Policy Shifts

In March 2025, the Secretary of Defense ordered a widespread review of grooming standards in the armed forces.⁶ In accordance with this directive, the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine Corps made revisions to their uniform and grooming regulations. In August 2025, the Secretary of Defense issued a memorandum that reinforced the expectation that service members remain clean shaven and introduced additional limits on medical waivers.⁷ Under this policy, medical officers must provide written recommendations, while commanders remain the final approval authority. Service members with approved shaving waivers for PFB also must participate in a medical treatment plan for the condition. Importantly, the memorandum directed unit commanders to initiate separation for service members in any branch who continue to require a shaving waiver after more than 1 year of medical management. This directive underscores the DoD’s emphasis on uniformity and cohesion as visible markers of professionalism and the “warrior ethos.”⁷

Regulatory Framework and Enforcement

Beginning in March 2025, centrally mandated revisions to existing directives introduced more restrictive grooming and appearance standards across all military services. A key area of enforcement involves strict management of medical shaving waivers, particularly those related to PFB, which indicates a reversal of previous accommodations. Because of the lack of effective treatment for intractable PFB, the DoD previously has permitted service members to obtain permanent shaving waivers. The use of long-term waivers reduced administrative burden by removing the need for repeated evaluations and routine renewal paperwork, thereby decreasing the workload for service members, medical officers, and commanders. In the Army and Marine Corps, new grooming standards^8,9 eliminate permanent waivers and prohibit pro forma renewals or extensions of existing waivers. Service members with PFB must seek a medical provider who will conduct a new full clinical evaluation, prepare new documentation requesting another temporary shaving waiver, and submit the application for the commander’s review and approval.

The Air Force also has adopted a stricter stance on shaving waivers. Under previous guidelines, service members diagnosed with PFB were eligible for a 5-year waiver that did not require annual renewal.¹⁰ However, the new 2025 guidelines eliminated this option. Now, waivers are subject to increased scrutiny and may be extended only for service members with severe, well-documented cases of PFB. In addition, the waiver must be approved by the commanding officer.¹¹ The updated policy does not specify whether an existing waiver can be continued (ie, rolled over) or if a complete de novo waiver is required.

The new policies that eliminate long-term waivers introduce logistical and administrative requirements that are likely to be time consuming, at multiple levels of the military. In the Army and Marine Corps, it is immaterial whether the request comes from a new recruit or from a seasoned service member who has had a shaving waiver for their entire career. Under the new policy, every waiver requires a formal medical appointment with a licensed health care provider, documentation and case review, completion of a standardized waiver form with the provider’s signature, and signed approval by the commanding officer.⁸

Across military services, available data indicate a substantial rise in shaving waivers over the past decade. Between 2021 and 2023, the number of active-duty Air Force personnel with PFB-related shaving waivers increased from 10,965 to 18,991.¹² Meanwhile, the Army has reported that more than 40,000 new shaving waivers were issued in 2024.¹³ While Black service members comprise roughly 15% of the active-duty force, they account for 66% of shaving waiver holders.¹⁴

Implications and Perspectives

Shaving waivers had provided a medically and administratively supported avenue for managing PFB within the relevant service requirements; however, the new policies have mandated a shift toward more regulated timelines for waiver evaluation and renewal, prohibition of permanent shaving waivers, and shortened durations of temporary shaving waivers.¹⁵ These changes impose higher time demands and administrative responsibilities on affected service members, on the chain of command, and on the US Army Medical Department.

The new guidelines reintroduced a command-level policy for PFB that differs from the clinically focused recommendations outlined in the Army’s official medical guidance on PFB.^8,15 The new directives also explicitly tie an individual’s potential eligibility to remain in the Army—across active, reserve, and National Guard components—to their ability to meet the new facial-hair grooming standards.⁸ The policy sets a clear benchmark for retention: failing to meet grooming standards for 12 or more months within a 24-month period automatically launches a process that leads to administrative separation. Similarly, a new Marine Corps directive authorizes administrative separation for Marines who require a medical grooming waiver for more than 1 year.¹¹ These branch-specific changes appear to implement a broader DoD policy outlined in the August 2025 memorandum, which represents a tightening of medical shaving waivers across all branches by limiting them to no more than 1 year in duration before triggering a review for administrative separation.⁷ Additional implications also may include increased utilization of laser hair removal (LHR) for service members for whom conservative management has failed and who wish to pursue more definitive options. Given the potential career implications of PFB, LHR may become a more frequently considered intervention among military and civilian dermatologists. In the civilian sector, TRICARE covers LHR for active-duty service members when deemed medically necessary and unavailable at their military treatment facility.¹⁴ Consequently, civilian dermatologists may see an increase in referrals from military personnel seeking LHR to maintain compliance with grooming standards under the new policy framework.

Final Thoughts

Military personnel, their chain of command, and the military medical system are keenly aware of the DoD’s newly mandated policy changes regarding grooming standards. There are many circumstances in which military personnel (eg, active-duty service members, reservists, National Guard members) receive medical care from civilian providers, who may not be up to date on changes in the military’s approach toward grooming. Civilian dermatologists may be the first to diagnose or treat PFB in prospective recruits and should be aware that under current DoD policy, failure to meet grooming standards can lead to premature separation from military service. Civilian providers who are aware that the DoD’s policies on shaving and waivers have changed dramatically can discuss these implications when evaluating or counseling patients with a history of or risk for PFB. Previously published guidelines for service members seeking a shaving waiver for PFB are listed in eTable 1.^10,16-23 The current changes, which remove various accommodations that previously had been introduced, are detailed in eTable 2.^7-9,15,24

The grooming policy changes, particularly in the Army and Marines, require de novo waivers, which are likely to increase health care costs as measured in time and dollars. Each waiver cycle involves medical evaluation, documentation, and chain-of-command review. The cumulative work of these recurring requirements becomes considerable when scaled across the force.

As the military’s grooming policies evolve, ongoing evaluation of their effects on service members and unit readiness remains important. Continued data collection, transparent communication, and collaboration among military institutions and health care providers may help ensure that future policy updates maintain operational standards while also supporting the health and well-being of the force.

According to the US Department of Defense (DoD), proper wear of the military uniform and adherence to grooming standards are essential components of military discipline and unit cohesion.^1,2 The DoD posits that personal appearance reflects the professionalism, integrity, and accountability expected of all service members. These standards promote a shared identity and reinforce the discipline required for military organizations to operate as cohesive, unified, mission-oriented teams. Personal appearance embodies integrity, commitment to duty, and respect for institutional norms.^1,2 In some situations, grooming standards also carry critical operational relevance; for example, the DoD states that a clean-shaven face is necessary to ensure a proper seal for gas masks and other personal protective equipment used in combat environments, especially when chemical or biological weapons are used.³ The Uniform Code of Military Justice states that service members who fail to comply with grooming standards, unless exempted, are subject to disciplinary action.⁴

In early March 2025, new directives from the DoD prompted a comprehensive review of personal grooming standards and wear of military uniforms across the uniformed services. The stated goal of these revisions was to enhance discipline, professionalism, and military readiness.^5,6 These policy updates reversed several grooming accommodations introduced in prior administrations that allowed greater flexibility in personal appearance and hair-grooming practices for service members. The 2025 revised standards entail re-examination and rewriting regulations that govern grooming standards.

The new grooming regulations are likely to have major effects on service members with pseudofolliculitis barbae (PFB), a chronic inflammatory condition of the facial skin that often occurs due to and is aggravated by repeated close shaving. Through most of their histories, each US military branch has required a clean, smooth-shaven facial appearance that entailed regular (usually daily) shaving of facial hair; however, service-specific grooming instructions and medical guidelines have permitted commanders to authorize temporary or permanent ­exemptions or waivers for service members with PFB. To obtain a shaving waiver, individuals with PFB work closely with a military medical officer to design a shaving strategy that will not exacerbate PFB. If medical management was unsuccessful, the medical officer usually prepared a recommendation for a shaving waiver that also required approval from the service member’s commanding officer. Waivers were handled on a case-by-case basis and could be temporary (eg, for 3 months), recurring/­renewable, or permanent.

The recent policy shifts make it difficult for service members to obtain renewable and permanent shaving waivers, raising concerns about medical outcomes and readiness implications. In this article, we examine the updated facial hair grooming standards across the uniformed services with a focus on the medical, regulatory, and administrative management of PFB.

Background and Policy Shifts

In March 2025, the Secretary of Defense ordered a widespread review of grooming standards in the armed forces.⁶ In accordance with this directive, the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine Corps made revisions to their uniform and grooming regulations. In August 2025, the Secretary of Defense issued a memorandum that reinforced the expectation that service members remain clean shaven and introduced additional limits on medical waivers.⁷ Under this policy, medical officers must provide written recommendations, while commanders remain the final approval authority. Service members with approved shaving waivers for PFB also must participate in a medical treatment plan for the condition. Importantly, the memorandum directed unit commanders to initiate separation for service members in any branch who continue to require a shaving waiver after more than 1 year of medical management. This directive underscores the DoD’s emphasis on uniformity and cohesion as visible markers of professionalism and the “warrior ethos.”⁷

Regulatory Framework and Enforcement

Beginning in March 2025, centrally mandated revisions to existing directives introduced more restrictive grooming and appearance standards across all military services. A key area of enforcement involves strict management of medical shaving waivers, particularly those related to PFB, which indicates a reversal of previous accommodations. Because of the lack of effective treatment for intractable PFB, the DoD previously has permitted service members to obtain permanent shaving waivers. The use of long-term waivers reduced administrative burden by removing the need for repeated evaluations and routine renewal paperwork, thereby decreasing the workload for service members, medical officers, and commanders. In the Army and Marine Corps, new grooming standards^8,9 eliminate permanent waivers and prohibit pro forma renewals or extensions of existing waivers. Service members with PFB must seek a medical provider who will conduct a new full clinical evaluation, prepare new documentation requesting another temporary shaving waiver, and submit the application for the commander’s review and approval.

The Air Force also has adopted a stricter stance on shaving waivers. Under previous guidelines, service members diagnosed with PFB were eligible for a 5-year waiver that did not require annual renewal.¹⁰ However, the new 2025 guidelines eliminated this option. Now, waivers are subject to increased scrutiny and may be extended only for service members with severe, well-documented cases of PFB. In addition, the waiver must be approved by the commanding officer.¹¹ The updated policy does not specify whether an existing waiver can be continued (ie, rolled over) or if a complete de novo waiver is required.

The new policies that eliminate long-term waivers introduce logistical and administrative requirements that are likely to be time consuming, at multiple levels of the military. In the Army and Marine Corps, it is immaterial whether the request comes from a new recruit or from a seasoned service member who has had a shaving waiver for their entire career. Under the new policy, every waiver requires a formal medical appointment with a licensed health care provider, documentation and case review, completion of a standardized waiver form with the provider’s signature, and signed approval by the commanding officer.⁸

Across military services, available data indicate a substantial rise in shaving waivers over the past decade. Between 2021 and 2023, the number of active-duty Air Force personnel with PFB-related shaving waivers increased from 10,965 to 18,991.¹² Meanwhile, the Army has reported that more than 40,000 new shaving waivers were issued in 2024.¹³ While Black service members comprise roughly 15% of the active-duty force, they account for 66% of shaving waiver holders.¹⁴

Implications and Perspectives

Shaving waivers had provided a medically and administratively supported avenue for managing PFB within the relevant service requirements; however, the new policies have mandated a shift toward more regulated timelines for waiver evaluation and renewal, prohibition of permanent shaving waivers, and shortened durations of temporary shaving waivers.¹⁵ These changes impose higher time demands and administrative responsibilities on affected service members, on the chain of command, and on the US Army Medical Department.

The new guidelines reintroduced a command-level policy for PFB that differs from the clinically focused recommendations outlined in the Army’s official medical guidance on PFB.^8,15 The new directives also explicitly tie an individual’s potential eligibility to remain in the Army—across active, reserve, and National Guard components—to their ability to meet the new facial-hair grooming standards.⁸ The policy sets a clear benchmark for retention: failing to meet grooming standards for 12 or more months within a 24-month period automatically launches a process that leads to administrative separation. Similarly, a new Marine Corps directive authorizes administrative separation for Marines who require a medical grooming waiver for more than 1 year.¹¹ These branch-specific changes appear to implement a broader DoD policy outlined in the August 2025 memorandum, which represents a tightening of medical shaving waivers across all branches by limiting them to no more than 1 year in duration before triggering a review for administrative separation.⁷ Additional implications also may include increased utilization of laser hair removal (LHR) for service members for whom conservative management has failed and who wish to pursue more definitive options. Given the potential career implications of PFB, LHR may become a more frequently considered intervention among military and civilian dermatologists. In the civilian sector, TRICARE covers LHR for active-duty service members when deemed medically necessary and unavailable at their military treatment facility.¹⁴ Consequently, civilian dermatologists may see an increase in referrals from military personnel seeking LHR to maintain compliance with grooming standards under the new policy framework.

Final Thoughts

Military personnel, their chain of command, and the military medical system are keenly aware of the DoD’s newly mandated policy changes regarding grooming standards. There are many circumstances in which military personnel (eg, active-duty service members, reservists, National Guard members) receive medical care from civilian providers, who may not be up to date on changes in the military’s approach toward grooming. Civilian dermatologists may be the first to diagnose or treat PFB in prospective recruits and should be aware that under current DoD policy, failure to meet grooming standards can lead to premature separation from military service. Civilian providers who are aware that the DoD’s policies on shaving and waivers have changed dramatically can discuss these implications when evaluating or counseling patients with a history of or risk for PFB. Previously published guidelines for service members seeking a shaving waiver for PFB are listed in eTable 1.^10,16-23 The current changes, which remove various accommodations that previously had been introduced, are detailed in eTable 2.^7-9,15,24

The grooming policy changes, particularly in the Army and Marines, require de novo waivers, which are likely to increase health care costs as measured in time and dollars. Each waiver cycle involves medical evaluation, documentation, and chain-of-command review. The cumulative work of these recurring requirements becomes considerable when scaled across the force.

As the military’s grooming policies evolve, ongoing evaluation of their effects on service members and unit readiness remains important. Continued data collection, transparent communication, and collaboration among military institutions and health care providers may help ensure that future policy updates maintain operational standards while also supporting the health and well-being of the force.

In April 2024, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) issued a nationwide rule to ban most employee noncompete agreements, including many used in health care¹; however, that rule never took effect. In August 2024, a federal district court ruled that the FTC had exceeded its statutory authority and blocked the ban,² and subsequent litigation and agency actions followed. On September 5, 2025, the FTC formally moved to accede to vacatur—in other words, it will not enforce the rule and backed away from defending it on appeal.³ As of December 2025, there is no active federal ban on physician noncompetes. The obligations of the physician employee are dictated by state law and the precise language of the contract that is signed.

In this article, we discuss the historical origins of noncompetes, employer and physician perspectives, and the downstream consequences for patient continuity, access, and health care costs.

Background

The concept of noncompete agreements is not new—this legal principle dates back several centuries, but it was not until several hundred years later, between the 1950s and 1980s, that noncompete agreements became routine in physician contracts. This trend emerged, at least in part, from the growing commoditization of medicine, the expansion of hospital infrastructure, and the rise of physicians employed by entities rather than owning a private practice. Medical practices, hospitals, and increasingly large private groups began using noncompete agreements to prevent physicians from leaving and establishing competing practices nearby. Since then, noncompetes have remained a contentious issue within both the legal system and the broader physician-employer relationship.

Employer vs Employee Perspective

From the employer’s perspective, health care systems and medical groups argue that noncompete agreements are necessary to protect legitimate business interests, citing physician training, established patient relationships, and proprietary information gained from employment with that entity as supporting reasons. Additionally, employers maintain that recouping the cost of recruitment and onboarding investments as well as sustaining continuity of care within the organization should take precedence. On occasion, health care systems will invest time and financial resources in recruiting physicians, provide administrative and clinical support, and integrate new employees into established referral pathways and patient populations. In this view, noncompetes serve as a tool to ensure stability within the health care system, discouraging abrupt departures that could fracture patient care or lead to unfair competition using institutional resources. While these arguments hold merit in certain cases, many physicians do not receive employer-funded education or training beyond what is required in residency and fellowship. As a result, the financial justifications for noncompetes often are overstated; on the contrary, the cost of a “buy-out” or the financial barrier imposed by a noncompete clause can amount to a considerable portion of a physician’s annual salary—sometimes multiple times that amount—creating an imbalance that favors the employer and limits professional mobility.

When a physician is prohibited from practicing in a specific area after leaving an employer, a complex web of adverse consequences can arise, impacting both the physician and the patients they serve. Physician mobility and career choice become restricted, effectively constraining the physicians’ livelihood and ability to provide for themselves and their dependents; in single-earner physician families, this can have devastating financial consequences. These limitations contribute to growing burnout and dissatisfaction within the medical profession, which already is facing unprecedented levels of stress and physician workforce shortages.⁴

Effect on Patients

When a physician is forced to relocate to a new geographic region because of a noncompete clause, their patients can experience substantial disruptions in care. Access to medical services may be affected, leading to longer wait-times and fewer available appointments, especially in areas that already have a shortage of providers. Patients may lose longstanding relationships with doctors who know their medical histories, which can interrupt treatment plans and increase the risk of complications. Those with chronic illnesses, complex conditions, or time-sensitive treatments are particularly vulnerable to adverse outcomes. Many patients must travel farther—sometimes out of their insurance network—to find replacement care, increasing both financial and logistical burdens. These abrupt transitions also can raise health care costs due to emergency department use, inefficient handoffs, and higher incidence of morbidity/mortality.⁵ Noncompete restrictions often prevent physicians from informing patients where they are relocating, creating confusion and fragmentation of care. As a result, trust in the health care system may decline when patients perceive that business agreements are being prioritized above their wellbeing. The impact may be even more severe in rural or underserved communities where alternative providers are scarce.

Final Thoughts

In recent years, noncompete agreements in health care have come under intensified scrutiny for their potential to stifle physician mobility, reduce competition, and inflate health care costs by limiting where and how physicians can practice. The trajectory of noncompetes in physician employment reflects broader shifts in how medicine is structured and delivered in the United States. In the latter half of the 20th century, what began as a centuries-old legal concept became a standard feature of physician employment contracts. That evolution largely was driven by the corporatization of medicine and large hospital group/private equity employment of physicians. As these agreements proliferated, public policy questions emerged: What does restricting a physician’s mobility do to patient access? To competition in provider markets? To the cost and availability of care? To the current epidemic of physician burnout?

These questions moved from the legal sidelines to center stage in the 2020s, when the FTC sought to tackle noncompetes across the entire economy—physicians included—on the theory they suppressed labor mobility, entrepreneurship, and competition. In February 2020, the American Medical Association submitted comments to the FTC on the utility of noncompete agreements in employee contracts stating that they restrict competition, can disrupt continuity of care, and may limit access to care.⁶ Although the FTC’s regulatory attempt in April 2024 provoked strong policy signals, it was challenged and ultimately blocked. Rather than a clear federal prohibition, the outcome is a more incremental state-based shift in rules governing physician noncompetes. For physicians today, this means more awareness and more leverage, but also more complexity. Whether a noncompete will be enforceable depends heavily on the state, the wording of the contract, the structure of the employer, and the specialty. From a negotiation standpoint, physicians need more guidance and awareness on the exact ramifications of their employee contract. For newly minted physicians, many of whom enter the workforce with considerable training debt, the priority often is securing employment to work toward financial stability, building a family, or both; however, all physicians should press for shorter durations, tighter geographic limits, narrower scopes of service, clear buy-out options, and explicit patient-continuity protections. Better yet, physicians can exercise the right of refusal to any noncompete clause at all. Becoming involved with a local medical organization or foundation can provide immense support, both in reviewing contracts as well as learning how to become advocates for physicians in this environment. As more physicians stand together to protect both practice autonomy and the right to quality care, we all become closer to rediscovering the beauty and fulfillment in the purest form of medicine.

In April 2024, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) issued a nationwide rule to ban most employee noncompete agreements, including many used in health care¹; however, that rule never took effect. In August 2024, a federal district court ruled that the FTC had exceeded its statutory authority and blocked the ban,² and subsequent litigation and agency actions followed. On September 5, 2025, the FTC formally moved to accede to vacatur—in other words, it will not enforce the rule and backed away from defending it on appeal.³ As of December 2025, there is no active federal ban on physician noncompetes. The obligations of the physician employee are dictated by state law and the precise language of the contract that is signed.

In this article, we discuss the historical origins of noncompetes, employer and physician perspectives, and the downstream consequences for patient continuity, access, and health care costs.

Background

The concept of noncompete agreements is not new—this legal principle dates back several centuries, but it was not until several hundred years later, between the 1950s and 1980s, that noncompete agreements became routine in physician contracts. This trend emerged, at least in part, from the growing commoditization of medicine, the expansion of hospital infrastructure, and the rise of physicians employed by entities rather than owning a private practice. Medical practices, hospitals, and increasingly large private groups began using noncompete agreements to prevent physicians from leaving and establishing competing practices nearby. Since then, noncompetes have remained a contentious issue within both the legal system and the broader physician-employer relationship.

Employer vs Employee Perspective

From the employer’s perspective, health care systems and medical groups argue that noncompete agreements are necessary to protect legitimate business interests, citing physician training, established patient relationships, and proprietary information gained from employment with that entity as supporting reasons. Additionally, employers maintain that recouping the cost of recruitment and onboarding investments as well as sustaining continuity of care within the organization should take precedence. On occasion, health care systems will invest time and financial resources in recruiting physicians, provide administrative and clinical support, and integrate new employees into established referral pathways and patient populations. In this view, noncompetes serve as a tool to ensure stability within the health care system, discouraging abrupt departures that could fracture patient care or lead to unfair competition using institutional resources. While these arguments hold merit in certain cases, many physicians do not receive employer-funded education or training beyond what is required in residency and fellowship. As a result, the financial justifications for noncompetes often are overstated; on the contrary, the cost of a “buy-out” or the financial barrier imposed by a noncompete clause can amount to a considerable portion of a physician’s annual salary—sometimes multiple times that amount—creating an imbalance that favors the employer and limits professional mobility.

When a physician is prohibited from practicing in a specific area after leaving an employer, a complex web of adverse consequences can arise, impacting both the physician and the patients they serve. Physician mobility and career choice become restricted, effectively constraining the physicians’ livelihood and ability to provide for themselves and their dependents; in single-earner physician families, this can have devastating financial consequences. These limitations contribute to growing burnout and dissatisfaction within the medical profession, which already is facing unprecedented levels of stress and physician workforce shortages.⁴

Effect on Patients

When a physician is forced to relocate to a new geographic region because of a noncompete clause, their patients can experience substantial disruptions in care. Access to medical services may be affected, leading to longer wait-times and fewer available appointments, especially in areas that already have a shortage of providers. Patients may lose longstanding relationships with doctors who know their medical histories, which can interrupt treatment plans and increase the risk of complications. Those with chronic illnesses, complex conditions, or time-sensitive treatments are particularly vulnerable to adverse outcomes. Many patients must travel farther—sometimes out of their insurance network—to find replacement care, increasing both financial and logistical burdens. These abrupt transitions also can raise health care costs due to emergency department use, inefficient handoffs, and higher incidence of morbidity/mortality.⁵ Noncompete restrictions often prevent physicians from informing patients where they are relocating, creating confusion and fragmentation of care. As a result, trust in the health care system may decline when patients perceive that business agreements are being prioritized above their wellbeing. The impact may be even more severe in rural or underserved communities where alternative providers are scarce.

Final Thoughts

In recent years, noncompete agreements in health care have come under intensified scrutiny for their potential to stifle physician mobility, reduce competition, and inflate health care costs by limiting where and how physicians can practice. The trajectory of noncompetes in physician employment reflects broader shifts in how medicine is structured and delivered in the United States. In the latter half of the 20th century, what began as a centuries-old legal concept became a standard feature of physician employment contracts. That evolution largely was driven by the corporatization of medicine and large hospital group/private equity employment of physicians. As these agreements proliferated, public policy questions emerged: What does restricting a physician’s mobility do to patient access? To competition in provider markets? To the cost and availability of care? To the current epidemic of physician burnout?

These questions moved from the legal sidelines to center stage in the 2020s, when the FTC sought to tackle noncompetes across the entire economy—physicians included—on the theory they suppressed labor mobility, entrepreneurship, and competition. In February 2020, the American Medical Association submitted comments to the FTC on the utility of noncompete agreements in employee contracts stating that they restrict competition, can disrupt continuity of care, and may limit access to care.⁶ Although the FTC’s regulatory attempt in April 2024 provoked strong policy signals, it was challenged and ultimately blocked. Rather than a clear federal prohibition, the outcome is a more incremental state-based shift in rules governing physician noncompetes. For physicians today, this means more awareness and more leverage, but also more complexity. Whether a noncompete will be enforceable depends heavily on the state, the wording of the contract, the structure of the employer, and the specialty. From a negotiation standpoint, physicians need more guidance and awareness on the exact ramifications of their employee contract. For newly minted physicians, many of whom enter the workforce with considerable training debt, the priority often is securing employment to work toward financial stability, building a family, or both; however, all physicians should press for shorter durations, tighter geographic limits, narrower scopes of service, clear buy-out options, and explicit patient-continuity protections. Better yet, physicians can exercise the right of refusal to any noncompete clause at all. Becoming involved with a local medical organization or foundation can provide immense support, both in reviewing contracts as well as learning how to become advocates for physicians in this environment. As more physicians stand together to protect both practice autonomy and the right to quality care, we all become closer to rediscovering the beauty and fulfillment in the purest form of medicine.

In April 2024, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) issued a nationwide rule to ban most employee noncompete agreements, including many used in health care¹; however, that rule never took effect. In August 2024, a federal district court ruled that the FTC had exceeded its statutory authority and blocked the ban,² and subsequent litigation and agency actions followed. On September 5, 2025, the FTC formally moved to accede to vacatur—in other words, it will not enforce the rule and backed away from defending it on appeal.³ As of December 2025, there is no active federal ban on physician noncompetes. The obligations of the physician employee are dictated by state law and the precise language of the contract that is signed.

In this article, we discuss the historical origins of noncompetes, employer and physician perspectives, and the downstream consequences for patient continuity, access, and health care costs.

Background

The concept of noncompete agreements is not new—this legal principle dates back several centuries, but it was not until several hundred years later, between the 1950s and 1980s, that noncompete agreements became routine in physician contracts. This trend emerged, at least in part, from the growing commoditization of medicine, the expansion of hospital infrastructure, and the rise of physicians employed by entities rather than owning a private practice. Medical practices, hospitals, and increasingly large private groups began using noncompete agreements to prevent physicians from leaving and establishing competing practices nearby. Since then, noncompetes have remained a contentious issue within both the legal system and the broader physician-employer relationship.

Employer vs Employee Perspective

From the employer’s perspective, health care systems and medical groups argue that noncompete agreements are necessary to protect legitimate business interests, citing physician training, established patient relationships, and proprietary information gained from employment with that entity as supporting reasons. Additionally, employers maintain that recouping the cost of recruitment and onboarding investments as well as sustaining continuity of care within the organization should take precedence. On occasion, health care systems will invest time and financial resources in recruiting physicians, provide administrative and clinical support, and integrate new employees into established referral pathways and patient populations. In this view, noncompetes serve as a tool to ensure stability within the health care system, discouraging abrupt departures that could fracture patient care or lead to unfair competition using institutional resources. While these arguments hold merit in certain cases, many physicians do not receive employer-funded education or training beyond what is required in residency and fellowship. As a result, the financial justifications for noncompetes often are overstated; on the contrary, the cost of a “buy-out” or the financial barrier imposed by a noncompete clause can amount to a considerable portion of a physician’s annual salary—sometimes multiple times that amount—creating an imbalance that favors the employer and limits professional mobility.

When a physician is prohibited from practicing in a specific area after leaving an employer, a complex web of adverse consequences can arise, impacting both the physician and the patients they serve. Physician mobility and career choice become restricted, effectively constraining the physicians’ livelihood and ability to provide for themselves and their dependents; in single-earner physician families, this can have devastating financial consequences. These limitations contribute to growing burnout and dissatisfaction within the medical profession, which already is facing unprecedented levels of stress and physician workforce shortages.⁴

Effect on Patients

When a physician is forced to relocate to a new geographic region because of a noncompete clause, their patients can experience substantial disruptions in care. Access to medical services may be affected, leading to longer wait-times and fewer available appointments, especially in areas that already have a shortage of providers. Patients may lose longstanding relationships with doctors who know their medical histories, which can interrupt treatment plans and increase the risk of complications. Those with chronic illnesses, complex conditions, or time-sensitive treatments are particularly vulnerable to adverse outcomes. Many patients must travel farther—sometimes out of their insurance network—to find replacement care, increasing both financial and logistical burdens. These abrupt transitions also can raise health care costs due to emergency department use, inefficient handoffs, and higher incidence of morbidity/mortality.⁵ Noncompete restrictions often prevent physicians from informing patients where they are relocating, creating confusion and fragmentation of care. As a result, trust in the health care system may decline when patients perceive that business agreements are being prioritized above their wellbeing. The impact may be even more severe in rural or underserved communities where alternative providers are scarce.

Final Thoughts

In recent years, noncompete agreements in health care have come under intensified scrutiny for their potential to stifle physician mobility, reduce competition, and inflate health care costs by limiting where and how physicians can practice. The trajectory of noncompetes in physician employment reflects broader shifts in how medicine is structured and delivered in the United States. In the latter half of the 20th century, what began as a centuries-old legal concept became a standard feature of physician employment contracts. That evolution largely was driven by the corporatization of medicine and large hospital group/private equity employment of physicians. As these agreements proliferated, public policy questions emerged: What does restricting a physician’s mobility do to patient access? To competition in provider markets? To the cost and availability of care? To the current epidemic of physician burnout?

These questions moved from the legal sidelines to center stage in the 2020s, when the FTC sought to tackle noncompetes across the entire economy—physicians included—on the theory they suppressed labor mobility, entrepreneurship, and competition. In February 2020, the American Medical Association submitted comments to the FTC on the utility of noncompete agreements in employee contracts stating that they restrict competition, can disrupt continuity of care, and may limit access to care.⁶ Although the FTC’s regulatory attempt in April 2024 provoked strong policy signals, it was challenged and ultimately blocked. Rather than a clear federal prohibition, the outcome is a more incremental state-based shift in rules governing physician noncompetes. For physicians today, this means more awareness and more leverage, but also more complexity. Whether a noncompete will be enforceable depends heavily on the state, the wording of the contract, the structure of the employer, and the specialty. From a negotiation standpoint, physicians need more guidance and awareness on the exact ramifications of their employee contract. For newly minted physicians, many of whom enter the workforce with considerable training debt, the priority often is securing employment to work toward financial stability, building a family, or both; however, all physicians should press for shorter durations, tighter geographic limits, narrower scopes of service, clear buy-out options, and explicit patient-continuity protections. Better yet, physicians can exercise the right of refusal to any noncompete clause at all. Becoming involved with a local medical organization or foundation can provide immense support, both in reviewing contracts as well as learning how to become advocates for physicians in this environment. As more physicians stand together to protect both practice autonomy and the right to quality care, we all become closer to rediscovering the beauty and fulfillment in the purest form of medicine.

Visible light is part of the electromagnetic spectrum and is confined to a range of 400 to 700 nm. Visible light phototherapy can be delivered across various wavelengths within this spectrum, with most research focusing on blue light (BL)(400-500 nm) and red light (RL)(600-700 nm). Blue light commonly is used to treat acne as well as actinic keratosis and other inflammatory disorders,^1,2 while RL largely targets signs of skin aging and fibrosis.^2,3 Because of its shorter wavelength, the clinically meaningful skin penetration of BL reaches up to1 mm and is confined to the epidermis; in contrast, RL can access the dermal adnexa due to its penetration depth of more than 2 mm.⁴ Therapeutically, visible light can be utilized alone (eg, photobiomodulation [PBM]) or in combination with a photosensitizing agent (eg, photodynamic therapy [PDT]).^5,6

Our laboratory’s prior research has contributed to a greater understanding of the safety profile of visible light at various wavelengths.^1,3 Specifically, our work has shown that BL (417 nm [range, 412-422 nm]) and RL (633 nm [range, 627-639 nm]) demonstrated no evidence of DNA damage—via no formation of cyclobutane pyrimidine dimers and/or 6-4 photoproducts, the hallmark photolesions caused by UV exposure—in human dermal fibroblasts following visible light exposure at all fluences tested.^1,3 This evidence reinforces the safety of visible light at clinically relevant wavelengths, supporting its integration into dermatologic practice. In this editorial, we highlight the key clinical applications of PBM and PDT and outline safety considerations for visible light-based therapies in dermatologic practice.

Photobiomodulation

Photobiomodulation is a noninvasive treatment in which low-level lasers or light-emitting diodes deliver photons from a nonionizing light source to endogenous photoreceptors, primarily cytochrome C oxidase.^7-9 On the visible light spectrum, PBM primarily encompasses RL.^7-9 Photoactivation leads to production of reactive oxygen species as well as mitochondrial alterations, with resulting modulation of cellular activity.^7-9 Upregulation of cellular activity generally occurs at lower fluences (ie, energy delivered per unit area) of light, whereas higher fluences cause downregulation of cellular activity.⁵

Recent consensus guidelines, established with expert colleagues, define additional key parameters that are crucial to optimizing PBM treatment, including distance from the light source, area of the light beam, wavelength, length of treatment time, and number of treatments.⁵ Understanding the effects of different parameter combinations is essential for clinicians to select the best treatment regimen for each patient. Our laboratory has conducted National Institutes of Health–funded phase 1 and phase 2 clinical trials to determine the safety and efficacy of red-light PBM.^10-13 Additionally, we completed several pilot phase 2 clinical studies with commercially available light-emitting diode face masks using PBM technology, which demonstrated a favorable safety profile and high patient satisfaction across multiple self-reported measures.^14,15 These findings highlight PBM as a reliable and well-tolerated therapeutic approach that can be administered in clinical settings or by patients at home.

Adverse effects of PBM therapy generally are mild and transient, most commonly manifesting as slight irritation and erythema.⁵ Overall, PBM is widely regarded as safe with a favorable and nontoxic profile across treatment settings. Growing evidence supports the role of PBM in managing wound healing, acne, alopecia, and skin aging, among other dermatologic concerns.⁸

Photodynamic Therapy

Photodynamic therapy is a noninvasive procedure during which a photosensitizer—typically 5-aminolevulinic acid (5-ALA) or a derivative, methyl aminolevulinate—reacts with a light source and oxygen, resulting in reactive oxygen species.^6,16 This reaction ultimately triggers targeted cellular destruction of the intended lesional skin but with negligible effects on adjacent nonlesional tissue.⁶ The efficacy of PDT is determined by several parameters, including composition and concentration of the photosensitizer, photosensitizer incubation temperature, and incubation time with the photosensitizer. Methyl aminolevulinate is a lipophilic molecule and may promote greater skin penetration and cellular uptake than 5-ALA, which is a hydrophilic molecule.⁶

Our research further demonstrated that apoptosis increases in a dose- and temperature-dependent manner following 5-ALA exposure, both in cutaneous and mucosal squamous cell carcinoma cells and in human dermal fibroblasts.^17,18 Our mechanistic insights have clinical relevance, as evidenced by an independent pilot study demonstrating that temperature-modulated PDT significantly improved actinic keratosis lesion clearance rates (P<.0001).¹⁹ Additionally, we determined that even short periods of incubation with 5-ALA (ie, 15-30 minutes) result in statistically significant increases in apoptosis (P<.05).²⁰ Thus, these findings highlight that the choice of photosensitizing agent and the administration parameters are critical in determining PDT efficacy as well as the need to optimize clinical protocols.

Photodynamic therapy also has demonstrated general clinical and genotoxic safety, with the most common potential adverse events limited to temporary inflammation, erythema, and discomfort.²¹ A study in murine skin and human keratinocytes revealed that 5-ALA PDT had a photoprotective effect against previous irradiation with UVB (a known inducer of DNA damage) via removal of cyclobutane pyrimidine dimers.²² Thus, PDT has been recognized as a safe and effective therapeutic modality with broad applications in dermatology, including treatment of actinic keratosis and nonmelanoma skin cancers.¹⁶

Clinical Safety, Photoprotection, and Precautions

While visible light has shown substantial therapeutic potential in dermatology, there are several safety measures and precautions to be aware of. Visible light constitutes approximately 44% of the solar output; therefore, precautions against both UV and visible light are recommended for the general population.²³ Cumulative exposure to visible light has been shown to trigger melanogenesis, resulting in persistent erythema, hyperpigmentation, and uneven skin tones across all Fitzpatrick skin types.²⁴ Individuals with skin of color are more photosensitive to visible light due to increased baseline melanin levels.²⁴ Similarly, patients with pigmentary conditions such as melasma and postinflammatory hyperpigmentation may experience worsening of their dermatologic symptoms due to underlying visible light photosensitivity.²⁵

Patients undergoing PBM or PDT could benefit from visible light protection. The primary form of photoprotection against visible light is tinted sunscreen, which contains iron oxides and titanium dioxide.²⁶ Iron (III) oxide is capable of blocking nearly all visible light damage.²⁶ Use of physical barriers such as wavelength-specific sunglasses and wide-brimmed hats also is important for preventing photodamage from visible light.²⁶

Final Thoughts

Visible light has a role in the treatment of a variety of skin conditions, including actinic keratosis, nonmelanoma skin cancers, acne, wound healing, skin fibrosis, and photodamage. Photobiomodulation and PDT represent 2 noninvasive phototherapeutic options that utilize visible light to enact cellular changes necessary to improve skin health. Integrating visible light phototherapy into standard clinical practice is important for enhancing patient outcomes. Clinicians should remain mindful of the rare pigmentary risks associated with visible light therapy devices. Future research should prioritize optimization of standardized protocols and expansion of clinical indications for visible light phototherapy.

Visible light is part of the electromagnetic spectrum and is confined to a range of 400 to 700 nm. Visible light phototherapy can be delivered across various wavelengths within this spectrum, with most research focusing on blue light (BL)(400-500 nm) and red light (RL)(600-700 nm). Blue light commonly is used to treat acne as well as actinic keratosis and other inflammatory disorders,^1,2 while RL largely targets signs of skin aging and fibrosis.^2,3 Because of its shorter wavelength, the clinically meaningful skin penetration of BL reaches up to1 mm and is confined to the epidermis; in contrast, RL can access the dermal adnexa due to its penetration depth of more than 2 mm.⁴ Therapeutically, visible light can be utilized alone (eg, photobiomodulation [PBM]) or in combination with a photosensitizing agent (eg, photodynamic therapy [PDT]).^5,6

Our laboratory’s prior research has contributed to a greater understanding of the safety profile of visible light at various wavelengths.^1,3 Specifically, our work has shown that BL (417 nm [range, 412-422 nm]) and RL (633 nm [range, 627-639 nm]) demonstrated no evidence of DNA damage—via no formation of cyclobutane pyrimidine dimers and/or 6-4 photoproducts, the hallmark photolesions caused by UV exposure—in human dermal fibroblasts following visible light exposure at all fluences tested.^1,3 This evidence reinforces the safety of visible light at clinically relevant wavelengths, supporting its integration into dermatologic practice. In this editorial, we highlight the key clinical applications of PBM and PDT and outline safety considerations for visible light-based therapies in dermatologic practice.

Photobiomodulation

Photobiomodulation is a noninvasive treatment in which low-level lasers or light-emitting diodes deliver photons from a nonionizing light source to endogenous photoreceptors, primarily cytochrome C oxidase.^7-9 On the visible light spectrum, PBM primarily encompasses RL.^7-9 Photoactivation leads to production of reactive oxygen species as well as mitochondrial alterations, with resulting modulation of cellular activity.^7-9 Upregulation of cellular activity generally occurs at lower fluences (ie, energy delivered per unit area) of light, whereas higher fluences cause downregulation of cellular activity.⁵

Recent consensus guidelines, established with expert colleagues, define additional key parameters that are crucial to optimizing PBM treatment, including distance from the light source, area of the light beam, wavelength, length of treatment time, and number of treatments.⁵ Understanding the effects of different parameter combinations is essential for clinicians to select the best treatment regimen for each patient. Our laboratory has conducted National Institutes of Health–funded phase 1 and phase 2 clinical trials to determine the safety and efficacy of red-light PBM.^10-13 Additionally, we completed several pilot phase 2 clinical studies with commercially available light-emitting diode face masks using PBM technology, which demonstrated a favorable safety profile and high patient satisfaction across multiple self-reported measures.^14,15 These findings highlight PBM as a reliable and well-tolerated therapeutic approach that can be administered in clinical settings or by patients at home.

Adverse effects of PBM therapy generally are mild and transient, most commonly manifesting as slight irritation and erythema.⁵ Overall, PBM is widely regarded as safe with a favorable and nontoxic profile across treatment settings. Growing evidence supports the role of PBM in managing wound healing, acne, alopecia, and skin aging, among other dermatologic concerns.⁸

Photodynamic Therapy

Photodynamic therapy is a noninvasive procedure during which a photosensitizer—typically 5-aminolevulinic acid (5-ALA) or a derivative, methyl aminolevulinate—reacts with a light source and oxygen, resulting in reactive oxygen species.^6,16 This reaction ultimately triggers targeted cellular destruction of the intended lesional skin but with negligible effects on adjacent nonlesional tissue.⁶ The efficacy of PDT is determined by several parameters, including composition and concentration of the photosensitizer, photosensitizer incubation temperature, and incubation time with the photosensitizer. Methyl aminolevulinate is a lipophilic molecule and may promote greater skin penetration and cellular uptake than 5-ALA, which is a hydrophilic molecule.⁶

Our research further demonstrated that apoptosis increases in a dose- and temperature-dependent manner following 5-ALA exposure, both in cutaneous and mucosal squamous cell carcinoma cells and in human dermal fibroblasts.^17,18 Our mechanistic insights have clinical relevance, as evidenced by an independent pilot study demonstrating that temperature-modulated PDT significantly improved actinic keratosis lesion clearance rates (P<.0001).¹⁹ Additionally, we determined that even short periods of incubation with 5-ALA (ie, 15-30 minutes) result in statistically significant increases in apoptosis (P<.05).²⁰ Thus, these findings highlight that the choice of photosensitizing agent and the administration parameters are critical in determining PDT efficacy as well as the need to optimize clinical protocols.

Photodynamic therapy also has demonstrated general clinical and genotoxic safety, with the most common potential adverse events limited to temporary inflammation, erythema, and discomfort.²¹ A study in murine skin and human keratinocytes revealed that 5-ALA PDT had a photoprotective effect against previous irradiation with UVB (a known inducer of DNA damage) via removal of cyclobutane pyrimidine dimers.²² Thus, PDT has been recognized as a safe and effective therapeutic modality with broad applications in dermatology, including treatment of actinic keratosis and nonmelanoma skin cancers.¹⁶

Clinical Safety, Photoprotection, and Precautions

While visible light has shown substantial therapeutic potential in dermatology, there are several safety measures and precautions to be aware of. Visible light constitutes approximately 44% of the solar output; therefore, precautions against both UV and visible light are recommended for the general population.²³ Cumulative exposure to visible light has been shown to trigger melanogenesis, resulting in persistent erythema, hyperpigmentation, and uneven skin tones across all Fitzpatrick skin types.²⁴ Individuals with skin of color are more photosensitive to visible light due to increased baseline melanin levels.²⁴ Similarly, patients with pigmentary conditions such as melasma and postinflammatory hyperpigmentation may experience worsening of their dermatologic symptoms due to underlying visible light photosensitivity.²⁵

Patients undergoing PBM or PDT could benefit from visible light protection. The primary form of photoprotection against visible light is tinted sunscreen, which contains iron oxides and titanium dioxide.²⁶ Iron (III) oxide is capable of blocking nearly all visible light damage.²⁶ Use of physical barriers such as wavelength-specific sunglasses and wide-brimmed hats also is important for preventing photodamage from visible light.²⁶

Final Thoughts

Visible light has a role in the treatment of a variety of skin conditions, including actinic keratosis, nonmelanoma skin cancers, acne, wound healing, skin fibrosis, and photodamage. Photobiomodulation and PDT represent 2 noninvasive phototherapeutic options that utilize visible light to enact cellular changes necessary to improve skin health. Integrating visible light phototherapy into standard clinical practice is important for enhancing patient outcomes. Clinicians should remain mindful of the rare pigmentary risks associated with visible light therapy devices. Future research should prioritize optimization of standardized protocols and expansion of clinical indications for visible light phototherapy.

Visible light is part of the electromagnetic spectrum and is confined to a range of 400 to 700 nm. Visible light phototherapy can be delivered across various wavelengths within this spectrum, with most research focusing on blue light (BL)(400-500 nm) and red light (RL)(600-700 nm). Blue light commonly is used to treat acne as well as actinic keratosis and other inflammatory disorders,^1,2 while RL largely targets signs of skin aging and fibrosis.^2,3 Because of its shorter wavelength, the clinically meaningful skin penetration of BL reaches up to1 mm and is confined to the epidermis; in contrast, RL can access the dermal adnexa due to its penetration depth of more than 2 mm.⁴ Therapeutically, visible light can be utilized alone (eg, photobiomodulation [PBM]) or in combination with a photosensitizing agent (eg, photodynamic therapy [PDT]).^5,6

Our laboratory’s prior research has contributed to a greater understanding of the safety profile of visible light at various wavelengths.^1,3 Specifically, our work has shown that BL (417 nm [range, 412-422 nm]) and RL (633 nm [range, 627-639 nm]) demonstrated no evidence of DNA damage—via no formation of cyclobutane pyrimidine dimers and/or 6-4 photoproducts, the hallmark photolesions caused by UV exposure—in human dermal fibroblasts following visible light exposure at all fluences tested.^1,3 This evidence reinforces the safety of visible light at clinically relevant wavelengths, supporting its integration into dermatologic practice. In this editorial, we highlight the key clinical applications of PBM and PDT and outline safety considerations for visible light-based therapies in dermatologic practice.

Photobiomodulation

Photobiomodulation is a noninvasive treatment in which low-level lasers or light-emitting diodes deliver photons from a nonionizing light source to endogenous photoreceptors, primarily cytochrome C oxidase.^7-9 On the visible light spectrum, PBM primarily encompasses RL.^7-9 Photoactivation leads to production of reactive oxygen species as well as mitochondrial alterations, with resulting modulation of cellular activity.^7-9 Upregulation of cellular activity generally occurs at lower fluences (ie, energy delivered per unit area) of light, whereas higher fluences cause downregulation of cellular activity.⁵

Recent consensus guidelines, established with expert colleagues, define additional key parameters that are crucial to optimizing PBM treatment, including distance from the light source, area of the light beam, wavelength, length of treatment time, and number of treatments.⁵ Understanding the effects of different parameter combinations is essential for clinicians to select the best treatment regimen for each patient. Our laboratory has conducted National Institutes of Health–funded phase 1 and phase 2 clinical trials to determine the safety and efficacy of red-light PBM.^10-13 Additionally, we completed several pilot phase 2 clinical studies with commercially available light-emitting diode face masks using PBM technology, which demonstrated a favorable safety profile and high patient satisfaction across multiple self-reported measures.^14,15 These findings highlight PBM as a reliable and well-tolerated therapeutic approach that can be administered in clinical settings or by patients at home.

Adverse effects of PBM therapy generally are mild and transient, most commonly manifesting as slight irritation and erythema.⁵ Overall, PBM is widely regarded as safe with a favorable and nontoxic profile across treatment settings. Growing evidence supports the role of PBM in managing wound healing, acne, alopecia, and skin aging, among other dermatologic concerns.⁸

Photodynamic Therapy

Photodynamic therapy is a noninvasive procedure during which a photosensitizer—typically 5-aminolevulinic acid (5-ALA) or a derivative, methyl aminolevulinate—reacts with a light source and oxygen, resulting in reactive oxygen species.^6,16 This reaction ultimately triggers targeted cellular destruction of the intended lesional skin but with negligible effects on adjacent nonlesional tissue.⁶ The efficacy of PDT is determined by several parameters, including composition and concentration of the photosensitizer, photosensitizer incubation temperature, and incubation time with the photosensitizer. Methyl aminolevulinate is a lipophilic molecule and may promote greater skin penetration and cellular uptake than 5-ALA, which is a hydrophilic molecule.⁶

Our research further demonstrated that apoptosis increases in a dose- and temperature-dependent manner following 5-ALA exposure, both in cutaneous and mucosal squamous cell carcinoma cells and in human dermal fibroblasts.^17,18 Our mechanistic insights have clinical relevance, as evidenced by an independent pilot study demonstrating that temperature-modulated PDT significantly improved actinic keratosis lesion clearance rates (P<.0001).¹⁹ Additionally, we determined that even short periods of incubation with 5-ALA (ie, 15-30 minutes) result in statistically significant increases in apoptosis (P<.05).²⁰ Thus, these findings highlight that the choice of photosensitizing agent and the administration parameters are critical in determining PDT efficacy as well as the need to optimize clinical protocols.

Photodynamic therapy also has demonstrated general clinical and genotoxic safety, with the most common potential adverse events limited to temporary inflammation, erythema, and discomfort.²¹ A study in murine skin and human keratinocytes revealed that 5-ALA PDT had a photoprotective effect against previous irradiation with UVB (a known inducer of DNA damage) via removal of cyclobutane pyrimidine dimers.²² Thus, PDT has been recognized as a safe and effective therapeutic modality with broad applications in dermatology, including treatment of actinic keratosis and nonmelanoma skin cancers.¹⁶

Clinical Safety, Photoprotection, and Precautions

While visible light has shown substantial therapeutic potential in dermatology, there are several safety measures and precautions to be aware of. Visible light constitutes approximately 44% of the solar output; therefore, precautions against both UV and visible light are recommended for the general population.²³ Cumulative exposure to visible light has been shown to trigger melanogenesis, resulting in persistent erythema, hyperpigmentation, and uneven skin tones across all Fitzpatrick skin types.²⁴ Individuals with skin of color are more photosensitive to visible light due to increased baseline melanin levels.²⁴ Similarly, patients with pigmentary conditions such as melasma and postinflammatory hyperpigmentation may experience worsening of their dermatologic symptoms due to underlying visible light photosensitivity.²⁵

Patients undergoing PBM or PDT could benefit from visible light protection. The primary form of photoprotection against visible light is tinted sunscreen, which contains iron oxides and titanium dioxide.²⁶ Iron (III) oxide is capable of blocking nearly all visible light damage.²⁶ Use of physical barriers such as wavelength-specific sunglasses and wide-brimmed hats also is important for preventing photodamage from visible light.²⁶

Final Thoughts

Visible light has a role in the treatment of a variety of skin conditions, including actinic keratosis, nonmelanoma skin cancers, acne, wound healing, skin fibrosis, and photodamage. Photobiomodulation and PDT represent 2 noninvasive phototherapeutic options that utilize visible light to enact cellular changes necessary to improve skin health. Integrating visible light phototherapy into standard clinical practice is important for enhancing patient outcomes. Clinicians should remain mindful of the rare pigmentary risks associated with visible light therapy devices. Future research should prioritize optimization of standardized protocols and expansion of clinical indications for visible light phototherapy.

Serving those who serve has been one of the most meaningful parts of my career. A career in military medicine offers dermatologists not only a chance to practice within a unique and diverse patient population but also an opportunity to contribute to something larger than themselves. Whether working with active-duty service members and their families within the Military Health System (MHS) or caring for veterans through the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA), the experience can be both enriching and rewarding. This article will explore the various pathways available to dermatologists to serve military communities, whether they are at the start of their careers or are looking for a change of pace within their established practice.

Care Pathways for Military and Veterans

To care for uniformed service members, their families, and retired personnel, dermatologists typically serve within the MHS—a global, integrated network of military hospitals and clinics dedicated to delivering health care to this population.¹ TRICARE is the health insurance program that covers those eligible for care within the system, including active-duty and retired service members.² In this context, it is important to clarify what the term retired actually means, as it differs from the term veteran when it comes to accessing health care options, and these terms frequently are conflated. A retired service member is an individual who completed at least 20 years of active-duty service or who has been medically retired because of a condition or injury incurred while on active duty.³ In contrast, a veteran may not have completed 20 years of service but has separated honorably after serving at least 24 continuous months.⁴ Veterans typically receive care through the VA system.⁵

Serving on Active Duty

In general, there are 2 main pathways to serve as a dermatologist within the MHS. The first is to commission in the military and serve on active duty. Most often, this pathway begins with a premedical student applying to medical school. Those considering military service typically explore scholarship programs such as the Health Professions Scholarship Program (HPSP)(https://www.medicineandthemilitary.com/applying-and-what-to-expect/medical-school-programs/hpsp) or the Health Services Collegiate Program (HSCP), or they apply to the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences (USU)(https://www.usuhs.edu/about). The HPSP and HSCP programs financially support medical students training at civilian medical schools, though in different ways—the HPSP covers tuition and fees, while the HSCP provides a salary during training but does not cover tuition.⁶ In contrast, students of USU attend the nation’s only military medical school, serving in uniform for 4 years while earning the pay and benefits of a junior officer in their respective service branch. Any premedical student considering the HPSP, HSCP or USU routes for service must meet the commissioning standards of their chosen branch—Army, Navy, or Air Force—and enter service as an officer before beginning medical school.

While direct commission prior to medical school is the most common route to active-duty service, board-certified dermatologists also can join a military branch later through what is called Direct Accession or Direct Commission; for example, the Navy offers a Residency to Direct Accession program, which commissions residents in their final year of training to join the Navy upon graduation. In some cases, commissioning at this stage includes a bonus of up to $600,000 in exchange for a 4-year active-duty commitment.⁷ The Army and Air Force offer similar direct commission programs, though specific incentives vary.⁸ Interested residents or practitioners can contact a local recruiting office within their branch of interest to learn more. Direct accession is open at many points in a dermatologist’s career—after residency, after fellowship, or even as an established civilian practitioner—and the initial commissioning rank and bonus generally reflect one’s level of experience.

Serving as a Civilian

Outside of uniformed service, dermatologists can find opportunities to provide care for active-duty service members, veterans, and military families through employment as General Schedule (GS) employees. The GS is a role classification and pay system that covers most federal employees in professional, administrative, and technical positions (eg, physicians). The GS system classifies most of these employees based on the complexity, responsibility, and qualifications required for their role.⁹ Such positions often are at the highest level of the GS pay scale, reflecting the expertise and years of education required to become a dermatologist, though pay varies by location and experience. In contrast, physicians employed through the VA system are classified as Title 38 federal employees, governed by a different pay structure and regulatory framework under the US Code of Federal Regulations.¹⁰ These regulations govern the hiring, retention, and firing guidelines for VA physicians, which differ from those of GS physicians. A full explanation is outside of the scope of this article, however.

Final Thoughts

In summary, uniformed or federal service as a dermatologist offers a meaningful and impactful way to give back to those who have served our country. Opportunities exist throughout the United States for dermatologists interested in serving within the MHS or VA. The most transparent and up-to-date resource for identifying open positions in both large metropolitan areas and smaller communities is USAJOBS.gov. While financial compensation may not always match that of private practice, the intangible benefits are considerable—stable employment, comprehensive benefits, malpractice coverage, and secure retirement, among others. There is something deeply fulfilling about using one’s medical skills in service of a larger mission. The relationships built with service members, the sense of shared purpose, and the opportunity to contribute to the readiness and well-being of those who serve all make this career path profoundly rewarding. For dermatologists seeking a practice that combines professional growth with purpose and patriotism, military medicine offers a truly special calling.

Serving those who serve has been one of the most meaningful parts of my career. A career in military medicine offers dermatologists not only a chance to practice within a unique and diverse patient population but also an opportunity to contribute to something larger than themselves. Whether working with active-duty service members and their families within the Military Health System (MHS) or caring for veterans through the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA), the experience can be both enriching and rewarding. This article will explore the various pathways available to dermatologists to serve military communities, whether they are at the start of their careers or are looking for a change of pace within their established practice.

Care Pathways for Military and Veterans

To care for uniformed service members, their families, and retired personnel, dermatologists typically serve within the MHS—a global, integrated network of military hospitals and clinics dedicated to delivering health care to this population.¹ TRICARE is the health insurance program that covers those eligible for care within the system, including active-duty and retired service members.² In this context, it is important to clarify what the term retired actually means, as it differs from the term veteran when it comes to accessing health care options, and these terms frequently are conflated. A retired service member is an individual who completed at least 20 years of active-duty service or who has been medically retired because of a condition or injury incurred while on active duty.³ In contrast, a veteran may not have completed 20 years of service but has separated honorably after serving at least 24 continuous months.⁴ Veterans typically receive care through the VA system.⁵

Serving on Active Duty

In general, there are 2 main pathways to serve as a dermatologist within the MHS. The first is to commission in the military and serve on active duty. Most often, this pathway begins with a premedical student applying to medical school. Those considering military service typically explore scholarship programs such as the Health Professions Scholarship Program (HPSP)(https://www.medicineandthemilitary.com/applying-and-what-to-expect/medical-school-programs/hpsp) or the Health Services Collegiate Program (HSCP), or they apply to the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences (USU)(https://www.usuhs.edu/about). The HPSP and HSCP programs financially support medical students training at civilian medical schools, though in different ways—the HPSP covers tuition and fees, while the HSCP provides a salary during training but does not cover tuition.⁶ In contrast, students of USU attend the nation’s only military medical school, serving in uniform for 4 years while earning the pay and benefits of a junior officer in their respective service branch. Any premedical student considering the HPSP, HSCP or USU routes for service must meet the commissioning standards of their chosen branch—Army, Navy, or Air Force—and enter service as an officer before beginning medical school.

While direct commission prior to medical school is the most common route to active-duty service, board-certified dermatologists also can join a military branch later through what is called Direct Accession or Direct Commission; for example, the Navy offers a Residency to Direct Accession program, which commissions residents in their final year of training to join the Navy upon graduation. In some cases, commissioning at this stage includes a bonus of up to $600,000 in exchange for a 4-year active-duty commitment.⁷ The Army and Air Force offer similar direct commission programs, though specific incentives vary.⁸ Interested residents or practitioners can contact a local recruiting office within their branch of interest to learn more. Direct accession is open at many points in a dermatologist’s career—after residency, after fellowship, or even as an established civilian practitioner—and the initial commissioning rank and bonus generally reflect one’s level of experience.

Serving as a Civilian

Outside of uniformed service, dermatologists can find opportunities to provide care for active-duty service members, veterans, and military families through employment as General Schedule (GS) employees. The GS is a role classification and pay system that covers most federal employees in professional, administrative, and technical positions (eg, physicians). The GS system classifies most of these employees based on the complexity, responsibility, and qualifications required for their role.⁹ Such positions often are at the highest level of the GS pay scale, reflecting the expertise and years of education required to become a dermatologist, though pay varies by location and experience. In contrast, physicians employed through the VA system are classified as Title 38 federal employees, governed by a different pay structure and regulatory framework under the US Code of Federal Regulations.¹⁰ These regulations govern the hiring, retention, and firing guidelines for VA physicians, which differ from those of GS physicians. A full explanation is outside of the scope of this article, however.

Final Thoughts

In summary, uniformed or federal service as a dermatologist offers a meaningful and impactful way to give back to those who have served our country. Opportunities exist throughout the United States for dermatologists interested in serving within the MHS or VA. The most transparent and up-to-date resource for identifying open positions in both large metropolitan areas and smaller communities is USAJOBS.gov. While financial compensation may not always match that of private practice, the intangible benefits are considerable—stable employment, comprehensive benefits, malpractice coverage, and secure retirement, among others. There is something deeply fulfilling about using one’s medical skills in service of a larger mission. The relationships built with service members, the sense of shared purpose, and the opportunity to contribute to the readiness and well-being of those who serve all make this career path profoundly rewarding. For dermatologists seeking a practice that combines professional growth with purpose and patriotism, military medicine offers a truly special calling.

Serving those who serve has been one of the most meaningful parts of my career. A career in military medicine offers dermatologists not only a chance to practice within a unique and diverse patient population but also an opportunity to contribute to something larger than themselves. Whether working with active-duty service members and their families within the Military Health System (MHS) or caring for veterans through the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA), the experience can be both enriching and rewarding. This article will explore the various pathways available to dermatologists to serve military communities, whether they are at the start of their careers or are looking for a change of pace within their established practice.

Care Pathways for Military and Veterans

To care for uniformed service members, their families, and retired personnel, dermatologists typically serve within the MHS—a global, integrated network of military hospitals and clinics dedicated to delivering health care to this population.¹ TRICARE is the health insurance program that covers those eligible for care within the system, including active-duty and retired service members.² In this context, it is important to clarify what the term retired actually means, as it differs from the term veteran when it comes to accessing health care options, and these terms frequently are conflated. A retired service member is an individual who completed at least 20 years of active-duty service or who has been medically retired because of a condition or injury incurred while on active duty.³ In contrast, a veteran may not have completed 20 years of service but has separated honorably after serving at least 24 continuous months.⁴ Veterans typically receive care through the VA system.⁵

Serving on Active Duty

In general, there are 2 main pathways to serve as a dermatologist within the MHS. The first is to commission in the military and serve on active duty. Most often, this pathway begins with a premedical student applying to medical school. Those considering military service typically explore scholarship programs such as the Health Professions Scholarship Program (HPSP)(https://www.medicineandthemilitary.com/applying-and-what-to-expect/medical-school-programs/hpsp) or the Health Services Collegiate Program (HSCP), or they apply to the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences (USU)(https://www.usuhs.edu/about). The HPSP and HSCP programs financially support medical students training at civilian medical schools, though in different ways—the HPSP covers tuition and fees, while the HSCP provides a salary during training but does not cover tuition.⁶ In contrast, students of USU attend the nation’s only military medical school, serving in uniform for 4 years while earning the pay and benefits of a junior officer in their respective service branch. Any premedical student considering the HPSP, HSCP or USU routes for service must meet the commissioning standards of their chosen branch—Army, Navy, or Air Force—and enter service as an officer before beginning medical school.

While direct commission prior to medical school is the most common route to active-duty service, board-certified dermatologists also can join a military branch later through what is called Direct Accession or Direct Commission; for example, the Navy offers a Residency to Direct Accession program, which commissions residents in their final year of training to join the Navy upon graduation. In some cases, commissioning at this stage includes a bonus of up to $600,000 in exchange for a 4-year active-duty commitment.⁷ The Army and Air Force offer similar direct commission programs, though specific incentives vary.⁸ Interested residents or practitioners can contact a local recruiting office within their branch of interest to learn more. Direct accession is open at many points in a dermatologist’s career—after residency, after fellowship, or even as an established civilian practitioner—and the initial commissioning rank and bonus generally reflect one’s level of experience.

Serving as a Civilian

Outside of uniformed service, dermatologists can find opportunities to provide care for active-duty service members, veterans, and military families through employment as General Schedule (GS) employees. The GS is a role classification and pay system that covers most federal employees in professional, administrative, and technical positions (eg, physicians). The GS system classifies most of these employees based on the complexity, responsibility, and qualifications required for their role.⁹ Such positions often are at the highest level of the GS pay scale, reflecting the expertise and years of education required to become a dermatologist, though pay varies by location and experience. In contrast, physicians employed through the VA system are classified as Title 38 federal employees, governed by a different pay structure and regulatory framework under the US Code of Federal Regulations.¹⁰ These regulations govern the hiring, retention, and firing guidelines for VA physicians, which differ from those of GS physicians. A full explanation is outside of the scope of this article, however.

Final Thoughts

In summary, uniformed or federal service as a dermatologist offers a meaningful and impactful way to give back to those who have served our country. Opportunities exist throughout the United States for dermatologists interested in serving within the MHS or VA. The most transparent and up-to-date resource for identifying open positions in both large metropolitan areas and smaller communities is USAJOBS.gov. While financial compensation may not always match that of private practice, the intangible benefits are considerable—stable employment, comprehensive benefits, malpractice coverage, and secure retirement, among others. There is something deeply fulfilling about using one’s medical skills in service of a larger mission. The relationships built with service members, the sense of shared purpose, and the opportunity to contribute to the readiness and well-being of those who serve all make this career path profoundly rewarding. For dermatologists seeking a practice that combines professional growth with purpose and patriotism, military medicine offers a truly special calling.

I was accepted into my fellowship almost 1 year ago: major milestones on my curriculum vitae are now met, fellowship application materials are complete, and the stress of the match is long gone. At the start of my fellowship, I had 2 priorities: (1) to learn as much as I could about dermatologic surgery and (2) to be the best dad possible to my newborn son, Jay. However, most nights I still find myself up late editing a manuscript draft or chasing down references, long after the “need” to publish has passed. Recently, my wife asked me why—what’s left to prove?

I’ll be the first to admit it: early on, publishing felt almost purely transactional. Each project was little more than a line on an application or a way to stand out or meet a new mentor. I have reflected before on how easily that mindset can slip into a kind of research arms race, in which productivity overshadows purpose.¹ This time, I wanted to explore the other side of that equation: the “why” behind it all.

I have learned that writing forces me to slow down and actually think about what I am seeing every day. It turns routine work into something I must understand well enough to explain. Even a small write-up can make me notice details I would otherwise skim past in clinic or surgery. These days, most of my projects start small: a case that taught me something, an observation that made me pause and think. Those seemingly small questions are what eventually grow into bigger ones. The clinical trial I am designing now did not begin as a grand plan—it started because I could not stop thinking about how we manage pain and analgesia after Mohs surgery. That curiosity, shaped by the experience of writing those earlier “smaller” papers, evolved into a study that might actually help improve patient care one day. Still, most of what I write will not revolutionize the field. It is not cutting-edge science or paradigm-shifting data; it is mostly modest analyses with a few interesting conclusions or surgical pearls that might cut down on a patient’s procedural time or save a dermatologist somewhere a few sutures. But it still feels worth doing.

While rotating with Dr. Anna Bar at Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, I noticed a poster hanging on the wall titled, “Top 10 Reasons Why Our Faculty Are Dedicated to Academics and Teaching,” based on the wisdom of Dr. Jane M. Grant-Kels.² My favorite line on the poster reads, “Residents make us better by asking questions.” I think this philosophy is the main reason why I still write. Even though I am not a resident anymore, I am still asking questions. But if I had to sum up my “why” into a neat list, here is what it might look like:

Because asking questions keeps your brain wired for curiosity. Even small projects train us to remain curious, and this curiosity can mean the difference between just doing your job and continuing to evolve within it. As Dr. Rodolfo Neirotti reminds us, “Questions are useful tools—they open communication, improve understanding, and drive scientific research. In medicine, doing things without knowing why is risky.”³

Because the small stuff builds the culture. Dermatology is a small world. Even short case series, pearls, or “how we do it” pieces can shape how we practice. They may not change paradigms, but they can refine them. Over time, those small practical contributions become part of the field’s collective muscle memory.

Because it preserves perspective. Residency, fellowship, and early practice can blur together. A tiny project can become a timestamp of what you were learning or caring about at that specific moment. Years later, you may remember the case through the paper.

Because the act of writing is the point. Writing forces clarity. You cannot hide behind saying, “That’s just how I do things,” when you have to explain it to others. The discipline of organizing your thoughts sharpens your clinical reasoning and keeps you honest about what you actually know.

Because sometimes it is simply about participating. Publishing, even small pieces, is a way of staying in touch with your field. It says, “I’m still here. I’m still paying attention.”

I think about how Dr. Frederic Mohs developed the technique that now bears his name while he was still a medical student.⁴ He could have said, “I already made it into medical school. That’s enough.” But he did not. I guess my point is not that we are all on the verge of inventing something revolutionary; it is that innovation happens only when curiosity keeps moving us forward. So no, I do not write to check boxes anymore. I write because it keeps me curious, and I have realized that curiosity is a habit I never want to outgrow.

Or maybe it’s because Jay keeps me up at night, and I have nothing better to do.

I was accepted into my fellowship almost 1 year ago: major milestones on my curriculum vitae are now met, fellowship application materials are complete, and the stress of the match is long gone. At the start of my fellowship, I had 2 priorities: (1) to learn as much as I could about dermatologic surgery and (2) to be the best dad possible to my newborn son, Jay. However, most nights I still find myself up late editing a manuscript draft or chasing down references, long after the “need” to publish has passed. Recently, my wife asked me why—what’s left to prove?

I’ll be the first to admit it: early on, publishing felt almost purely transactional. Each project was little more than a line on an application or a way to stand out or meet a new mentor. I have reflected before on how easily that mindset can slip into a kind of research arms race, in which productivity overshadows purpose.¹ This time, I wanted to explore the other side of that equation: the “why” behind it all.

I have learned that writing forces me to slow down and actually think about what I am seeing every day. It turns routine work into something I must understand well enough to explain. Even a small write-up can make me notice details I would otherwise skim past in clinic or surgery. These days, most of my projects start small: a case that taught me something, an observation that made me pause and think. Those seemingly small questions are what eventually grow into bigger ones. The clinical trial I am designing now did not begin as a grand plan—it started because I could not stop thinking about how we manage pain and analgesia after Mohs surgery. That curiosity, shaped by the experience of writing those earlier “smaller” papers, evolved into a study that might actually help improve patient care one day. Still, most of what I write will not revolutionize the field. It is not cutting-edge science or paradigm-shifting data; it is mostly modest analyses with a few interesting conclusions or surgical pearls that might cut down on a patient’s procedural time or save a dermatologist somewhere a few sutures. But it still feels worth doing.

While rotating with Dr. Anna Bar at Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, I noticed a poster hanging on the wall titled, “Top 10 Reasons Why Our Faculty Are Dedicated to Academics and Teaching,” based on the wisdom of Dr. Jane M. Grant-Kels.² My favorite line on the poster reads, “Residents make us better by asking questions.” I think this philosophy is the main reason why I still write. Even though I am not a resident anymore, I am still asking questions. But if I had to sum up my “why” into a neat list, here is what it might look like:

Because asking questions keeps your brain wired for curiosity. Even small projects train us to remain curious, and this curiosity can mean the difference between just doing your job and continuing to evolve within it. As Dr. Rodolfo Neirotti reminds us, “Questions are useful tools—they open communication, improve understanding, and drive scientific research. In medicine, doing things without knowing why is risky.”³

Because the small stuff builds the culture. Dermatology is a small world. Even short case series, pearls, or “how we do it” pieces can shape how we practice. They may not change paradigms, but they can refine them. Over time, those small practical contributions become part of the field’s collective muscle memory.

Because it preserves perspective. Residency, fellowship, and early practice can blur together. A tiny project can become a timestamp of what you were learning or caring about at that specific moment. Years later, you may remember the case through the paper.

Because the act of writing is the point. Writing forces clarity. You cannot hide behind saying, “That’s just how I do things,” when you have to explain it to others. The discipline of organizing your thoughts sharpens your clinical reasoning and keeps you honest about what you actually know.

Because sometimes it is simply about participating. Publishing, even small pieces, is a way of staying in touch with your field. It says, “I’m still here. I’m still paying attention.”

I think about how Dr. Frederic Mohs developed the technique that now bears his name while he was still a medical student.⁴ He could have said, “I already made it into medical school. That’s enough.” But he did not. I guess my point is not that we are all on the verge of inventing something revolutionary; it is that innovation happens only when curiosity keeps moving us forward. So no, I do not write to check boxes anymore. I write because it keeps me curious, and I have realized that curiosity is a habit I never want to outgrow.

Or maybe it’s because Jay keeps me up at night, and I have nothing better to do.

I was accepted into my fellowship almost 1 year ago: major milestones on my curriculum vitae are now met, fellowship application materials are complete, and the stress of the match is long gone. At the start of my fellowship, I had 2 priorities: (1) to learn as much as I could about dermatologic surgery and (2) to be the best dad possible to my newborn son, Jay. However, most nights I still find myself up late editing a manuscript draft or chasing down references, long after the “need” to publish has passed. Recently, my wife asked me why—what’s left to prove?

I’ll be the first to admit it: early on, publishing felt almost purely transactional. Each project was little more than a line on an application or a way to stand out or meet a new mentor. I have reflected before on how easily that mindset can slip into a kind of research arms race, in which productivity overshadows purpose.¹ This time, I wanted to explore the other side of that equation: the “why” behind it all.

I have learned that writing forces me to slow down and actually think about what I am seeing every day. It turns routine work into something I must understand well enough to explain. Even a small write-up can make me notice details I would otherwise skim past in clinic or surgery. These days, most of my projects start small: a case that taught me something, an observation that made me pause and think. Those seemingly small questions are what eventually grow into bigger ones. The clinical trial I am designing now did not begin as a grand plan—it started because I could not stop thinking about how we manage pain and analgesia after Mohs surgery. That curiosity, shaped by the experience of writing those earlier “smaller” papers, evolved into a study that might actually help improve patient care one day. Still, most of what I write will not revolutionize the field. It is not cutting-edge science or paradigm-shifting data; it is mostly modest analyses with a few interesting conclusions or surgical pearls that might cut down on a patient’s procedural time or save a dermatologist somewhere a few sutures. But it still feels worth doing.

While rotating with Dr. Anna Bar at Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, I noticed a poster hanging on the wall titled, “Top 10 Reasons Why Our Faculty Are Dedicated to Academics and Teaching,” based on the wisdom of Dr. Jane M. Grant-Kels.² My favorite line on the poster reads, “Residents make us better by asking questions.” I think this philosophy is the main reason why I still write. Even though I am not a resident anymore, I am still asking questions. But if I had to sum up my “why” into a neat list, here is what it might look like:

Because asking questions keeps your brain wired for curiosity. Even small projects train us to remain curious, and this curiosity can mean the difference between just doing your job and continuing to evolve within it. As Dr. Rodolfo Neirotti reminds us, “Questions are useful tools—they open communication, improve understanding, and drive scientific research. In medicine, doing things without knowing why is risky.”³

Because the small stuff builds the culture. Dermatology is a small world. Even short case series, pearls, or “how we do it” pieces can shape how we practice. They may not change paradigms, but they can refine them. Over time, those small practical contributions become part of the field’s collective muscle memory.

Because it preserves perspective. Residency, fellowship, and early practice can blur together. A tiny project can become a timestamp of what you were learning or caring about at that specific moment. Years later, you may remember the case through the paper.

Because the act of writing is the point. Writing forces clarity. You cannot hide behind saying, “That’s just how I do things,” when you have to explain it to others. The discipline of organizing your thoughts sharpens your clinical reasoning and keeps you honest about what you actually know.

Because sometimes it is simply about participating. Publishing, even small pieces, is a way of staying in touch with your field. It says, “I’m still here. I’m still paying attention.”

I think about how Dr. Frederic Mohs developed the technique that now bears his name while he was still a medical student.⁴ He could have said, “I already made it into medical school. That’s enough.” But he did not. I guess my point is not that we are all on the verge of inventing something revolutionary; it is that innovation happens only when curiosity keeps moving us forward. So no, I do not write to check boxes anymore. I write because it keeps me curious, and I have realized that curiosity is a habit I never want to outgrow.

Or maybe it’s because Jay keeps me up at night, and I have nothing better to do.

THE DIAGNOSIS: Nail Lichen Planus

The biopsy results showed features of hypergranulosis of the matricial epithelium, irregular acanthosis, apoptotic keratinocytes along the basal layer, and a lichenoid infiltrate consistent with nail lichen planus. The patient was started on topical clobetasol propionate 0.05% applied once daily under overnight occlusion. Additionally, intramatricial triamcinolone acetonide (2.5 mg/mL; 0.1 mL per injection) was administered into the affected nail matrix at 4-week intervals for a total of 2 sessions. At the 2-month follow-up visit, the patient reported improvement in longitudinal ridging; however, he subsequently was lost to follow-up.

Nail lichen planus is a chronic inflammatory disorder that occurs in 10% to 15% of patients with lichen planus worldwide and is more common in adults than children.¹ It can manifest independently or concurrently with cutaneous and/or oral mucosal involvement. The fingernails are more commonly affected than the toenails.² The clinical features of nail lichen planus can be classified based on involvement of the nail matrix (longitudinal ridging, red lunula, thinning of the nail plate, koilonychia, trachyonychia, pterygium, and anonychia) or nail bed (onycholysis, subungual hyperkeratosis, and splinter hemorrhages).¹

In our patient, who presented with chronic progressive nail dystrophy affecting all 20 nails, onychomycosis, nail psoriasis, onychotillomania, and idiopathic trachyonychia were included in the differential.¹

Onychomycosis manifests as white or yellow-brown discoloration of the nail, onycholysis, subungual hyperkeratosis, and thickening of the nail plate. Diagnosis is confirmed by the presence of septate hyphae (dermatophytes) or budding yeast cells (Candida species) on a potassium hydroxide mount. Other diagnostic modalities include dermoscopy, fungal culture, and histopathology of nail clippings, with demonstration of fungal elements identified on periodic acid-Schiff staining (eFigure 1).³

Nail psoriasis characteristically manifests as deep irregular pitting of the nails. Other features favoring psoriasis include involvement of the nail matrix manifesting as leukonychia, red lunula, and crumbling, as well as involvement of the nail bed manifesting as onycholysis, subungual hyperkeratosis, salmon patches/oil spots, and splinter hemorrhages (eFigure 2).⁴ Diagnosis primarily is clinical, supported by histopathology when uncertainty exists.

Onychotillomania is a behavioral disorder characterized by an irresistible urge or impulse in patients to either pick or pull at their fingernails and/or toenails. Clinicopathologic features of the involved nails are nonspecific and atypical, with possible involvement of periungual and digital skin. Diagnosis of onychotillomania is challenging.⁵ Dermoscopic features including anonychia with multiple obliquely arranged nail bed hemorrhages, gray pigmentation of the nail bed, and wavy lines, has been proposed to aid the diagnosis of onychotillomania.⁶

Idiopathic trachyonychia is isolated nail involvement characterized by rough, ridged, and thin nails affecting multiple or all of the fingernails and toenails without an underlying systemic or dermatologic condition (eFigure 3). The terms trachyonychia and 20-nail dystrophy have been used interchangeably in the literature; however, trachyonychia does not always involve all 20 nails. Other conditions causing widespread dystrophy of all 20 nails cannot be diagnosed as 20-nail dystrophy or trachyonychia without the distinct morphologic features of thin brittle nails with pronounced longitudinal ridging.⁷

Prompt diagnosis and early intervention in nail lichen planus is crucial due to the potential for irreversible scarring. First-line treatment options include intramatricial and intramuscular triamcinolone acetonide for 3 to 6 months.⁴ Second-line therapies include oral retinoids such as acitretin and alitretinoin and immunosuppressive agents such as azathioprine, mycophenolate mofetil, and cyclosporine. Other reported treatment options include clobetasol propionate, tacrolimus, dapsone, griseofulvin, etanercept, hydroxychloroquine, methotrexate, and UV therapy.⁴

THE DIAGNOSIS: Nail Lichen Planus

The biopsy results showed features of hypergranulosis of the matricial epithelium, irregular acanthosis, apoptotic keratinocytes along the basal layer, and a lichenoid infiltrate consistent with nail lichen planus. The patient was started on topical clobetasol propionate 0.05% applied once daily under overnight occlusion. Additionally, intramatricial triamcinolone acetonide (2.5 mg/mL; 0.1 mL per injection) was administered into the affected nail matrix at 4-week intervals for a total of 2 sessions. At the 2-month follow-up visit, the patient reported improvement in longitudinal ridging; however, he subsequently was lost to follow-up.

Nail lichen planus is a chronic inflammatory disorder that occurs in 10% to 15% of patients with lichen planus worldwide and is more common in adults than children.¹ It can manifest independently or concurrently with cutaneous and/or oral mucosal involvement. The fingernails are more commonly affected than the toenails.² The clinical features of nail lichen planus can be classified based on involvement of the nail matrix (longitudinal ridging, red lunula, thinning of the nail plate, koilonychia, trachyonychia, pterygium, and anonychia) or nail bed (onycholysis, subungual hyperkeratosis, and splinter hemorrhages).¹

In our patient, who presented with chronic progressive nail dystrophy affecting all 20 nails, onychomycosis, nail psoriasis, onychotillomania, and idiopathic trachyonychia were included in the differential.¹

Onychomycosis manifests as white or yellow-brown discoloration of the nail, onycholysis, subungual hyperkeratosis, and thickening of the nail plate. Diagnosis is confirmed by the presence of septate hyphae (dermatophytes) or budding yeast cells (Candida species) on a potassium hydroxide mount. Other diagnostic modalities include dermoscopy, fungal culture, and histopathology of nail clippings, with demonstration of fungal elements identified on periodic acid-Schiff staining (eFigure 1).³

Nail psoriasis characteristically manifests as deep irregular pitting of the nails. Other features favoring psoriasis include involvement of the nail matrix manifesting as leukonychia, red lunula, and crumbling, as well as involvement of the nail bed manifesting as onycholysis, subungual hyperkeratosis, salmon patches/oil spots, and splinter hemorrhages (eFigure 2).⁴ Diagnosis primarily is clinical, supported by histopathology when uncertainty exists.

Onychotillomania is a behavioral disorder characterized by an irresistible urge or impulse in patients to either pick or pull at their fingernails and/or toenails. Clinicopathologic features of the involved nails are nonspecific and atypical, with possible involvement of periungual and digital skin. Diagnosis of onychotillomania is challenging.⁵ Dermoscopic features including anonychia with multiple obliquely arranged nail bed hemorrhages, gray pigmentation of the nail bed, and wavy lines, has been proposed to aid the diagnosis of onychotillomania.⁶

Idiopathic trachyonychia is isolated nail involvement characterized by rough, ridged, and thin nails affecting multiple or all of the fingernails and toenails without an underlying systemic or dermatologic condition (eFigure 3). The terms trachyonychia and 20-nail dystrophy have been used interchangeably in the literature; however, trachyonychia does not always involve all 20 nails. Other conditions causing widespread dystrophy of all 20 nails cannot be diagnosed as 20-nail dystrophy or trachyonychia without the distinct morphologic features of thin brittle nails with pronounced longitudinal ridging.⁷

Prompt diagnosis and early intervention in nail lichen planus is crucial due to the potential for irreversible scarring. First-line treatment options include intramatricial and intramuscular triamcinolone acetonide for 3 to 6 months.⁴ Second-line therapies include oral retinoids such as acitretin and alitretinoin and immunosuppressive agents such as azathioprine, mycophenolate mofetil, and cyclosporine. Other reported treatment options include clobetasol propionate, tacrolimus, dapsone, griseofulvin, etanercept, hydroxychloroquine, methotrexate, and UV therapy.⁴

THE DIAGNOSIS: Nail Lichen Planus

The biopsy results showed features of hypergranulosis of the matricial epithelium, irregular acanthosis, apoptotic keratinocytes along the basal layer, and a lichenoid infiltrate consistent with nail lichen planus. The patient was started on topical clobetasol propionate 0.05% applied once daily under overnight occlusion. Additionally, intramatricial triamcinolone acetonide (2.5 mg/mL; 0.1 mL per injection) was administered into the affected nail matrix at 4-week intervals for a total of 2 sessions. At the 2-month follow-up visit, the patient reported improvement in longitudinal ridging; however, he subsequently was lost to follow-up.

Nail lichen planus is a chronic inflammatory disorder that occurs in 10% to 15% of patients with lichen planus worldwide and is more common in adults than children.¹ It can manifest independently or concurrently with cutaneous and/or oral mucosal involvement. The fingernails are more commonly affected than the toenails.² The clinical features of nail lichen planus can be classified based on involvement of the nail matrix (longitudinal ridging, red lunula, thinning of the nail plate, koilonychia, trachyonychia, pterygium, and anonychia) or nail bed (onycholysis, subungual hyperkeratosis, and splinter hemorrhages).¹

In our patient, who presented with chronic progressive nail dystrophy affecting all 20 nails, onychomycosis, nail psoriasis, onychotillomania, and idiopathic trachyonychia were included in the differential.¹

Onychomycosis manifests as white or yellow-brown discoloration of the nail, onycholysis, subungual hyperkeratosis, and thickening of the nail plate. Diagnosis is confirmed by the presence of septate hyphae (dermatophytes) or budding yeast cells (Candida species) on a potassium hydroxide mount. Other diagnostic modalities include dermoscopy, fungal culture, and histopathology of nail clippings, with demonstration of fungal elements identified on periodic acid-Schiff staining (eFigure 1).³

Nail psoriasis characteristically manifests as deep irregular pitting of the nails. Other features favoring psoriasis include involvement of the nail matrix manifesting as leukonychia, red lunula, and crumbling, as well as involvement of the nail bed manifesting as onycholysis, subungual hyperkeratosis, salmon patches/oil spots, and splinter hemorrhages (eFigure 2).⁴ Diagnosis primarily is clinical, supported by histopathology when uncertainty exists.

Onychotillomania is a behavioral disorder characterized by an irresistible urge or impulse in patients to either pick or pull at their fingernails and/or toenails. Clinicopathologic features of the involved nails are nonspecific and atypical, with possible involvement of periungual and digital skin. Diagnosis of onychotillomania is challenging.⁵ Dermoscopic features including anonychia with multiple obliquely arranged nail bed hemorrhages, gray pigmentation of the nail bed, and wavy lines, has been proposed to aid the diagnosis of onychotillomania.⁶

Idiopathic trachyonychia is isolated nail involvement characterized by rough, ridged, and thin nails affecting multiple or all of the fingernails and toenails without an underlying systemic or dermatologic condition (eFigure 3). The terms trachyonychia and 20-nail dystrophy have been used interchangeably in the literature; however, trachyonychia does not always involve all 20 nails. Other conditions causing widespread dystrophy of all 20 nails cannot be diagnosed as 20-nail dystrophy or trachyonychia without the distinct morphologic features of thin brittle nails with pronounced longitudinal ridging.⁷

Prompt diagnosis and early intervention in nail lichen planus is crucial due to the potential for irreversible scarring. First-line treatment options include intramatricial and intramuscular triamcinolone acetonide for 3 to 6 months.⁴ Second-line therapies include oral retinoids such as acitretin and alitretinoin and immunosuppressive agents such as azathioprine, mycophenolate mofetil, and cyclosporine. Other reported treatment options include clobetasol propionate, tacrolimus, dapsone, griseofulvin, etanercept, hydroxychloroquine, methotrexate, and UV therapy.⁴

Rural dermatology is not as simple as it seems. For some, it means being the only dermatologist in a county where patients drive 3 hours for an appointment; for others, it means practicing in a mid-sized town and serving as both community doctor and regional referral point. Too often, rural dermatology is dismissed as isolating or career limiting, but the truth is very different. Rural dermatologists see plenty of common conditions such as acne and eczema, but they also see complex inflammatory diseases and advanced skin cancers that reflect delays in care for patients living in rural communities in the United States. Careers in rural dermatology can be flexible and creative, ranging from private practice to hospital employment to hybrid models that blend community and academic life.

The myths persist: You will lack colleagues. Your practice will be thin. You must sacrifice academic engagement. In reality, rural practice offers variety, leadership opportunities, and the chance to influence the health of entire communities in profound ways. In this article, we aim to unpack what rural dermatology actually looks like as a potential career path for residents, with a focus on private-academic hybrid and hospital-based practice models.

What Does Rural Really Mean?

Definitions of the term rural vary. For the US Census Bureau, it is synonymous with nonurban, and for the Office of Management and Budget, the term ­nonmetropolitan is preferred. The US Department of Agriculture’s ­Rural-Urban Commuting Area codes recognize a continuum of classifications from micropolitan to remote. In practice, the term rural covers a wide spectrum: the rolling farmlands of the Midwest, the mountains of Montana, the bayous of the South, the Native American reservations in New Mexico, and everything in between. It is not one uniform reality—rural America is diverse, resilient, and deeply connected.

A Day in Rural Practice

Daily clinic flow may look familiar: a full schedule, a mix of new and established patients, and frequent simple procedures such as biopsies and corticosteroid injections. But the scope of practice is wider. You become the dermatologist for hundreds of miles in every direction, managing most conditions locally while referring select cases to subspecialty centers.

Case variety is striking. Neglected tumors, unusual inflammatory presentations, pediatric conditions, and occupational dermatoses/injuries appear alongside the routine. Each day requires flexibility, judgment, confidence, and the ability to think outside the box. You must consider how a patient’s seasonal work, such as ranching or farming, and/or their total commute time impacts the risk-benefit discussion around treatment recommendations.

Matthew P. Shaffer, MD (Salina, Kansas), who has practiced rural dermatology for more than 20 years, explained that the breadth of dermatologic cases in which he served as the expert was both exciting and intimidating, but it became clear that this was the right professional path for him (email communication, September 5, 2025). In small communities, your role extends beyond the clinic walls. You will see patients at the grocery store, the library, and school events. That continuity fosters loyalty and accountability in ways that are hard to quantify.

Hybrid Partnerships and Hospital-Based Practice

Many practice structures exist: independent clinics, multispecialty groups, hospital employment, and increasingly, hybrid partnerships with academic centers.

Academic institutions have recognized the importance of rural exposure, and many now collaborate with rural dermatologists. For example, Heartland Dermatology in Salina, Kansas, where 2 of the authors (B.R.L. and T.G.) practice, partners with St. Louis University in Missouri to provide a residency track and rotations in rural clinics.

Rural-based hospital systems can create similar structures. Monument Health Dermatology in Spearfish, South Dakota, is integrated into the fabric of the community’s larger rural health care model. The physician (M.E.L.) collaborates daily with primary care providers, surgeons, and oncologists through a shared electronic health record (sometimes even through telephone speed-dial given the close collegiality of small-town providers). Patients come from across 4 states, some driving 6 hours each way. Patients who once doubted whether dermatology was worth the trip will consistently return for follow-up care once trust is earned. The stability of hospital employment supports volunteer faculty positions and a free satellite clinic in partnership with a local Lakota Tribal health center. There is never a dull day: the providers see urgent add-ons daily, which keeps them on their toes but in exchange brings immense reward. This includes a recent case from rural Wyoming: a complex mixed infantile hemangioma on the mid face just entering the rapid proliferation phase. Propranolol was started immediately, as opposed to months later when it was too late—a common complication for the majority of rural patients by the time to get to a dermatologist.

The Hub-and-Spoke Model

Complex cases can overwhelm rural practices, and this is when the hub-and-spoke model is invaluable. Dermatologists embed in local communities as spokes, while subspecialty services such as pediatric dermatology, dermatopathology, or Mohs micrographic surgery remain centralized at hubs. The hubs can be but do not have to be academic institutions; for Heartland Dermatology in Kansas, private practices fulfill both hub and spoke roles. With that said, 10 states do not have academic dermatology programs.¹ Mohs surgeons and pediatric dermatologists still can establish robust and successful independent rural subspecialty practices outside academic hubs. Christopher Gasbarre, DO (Spearfish, South Dakota), a board-certified, fellowship-trained Mohs surgeon in rural practice, advises residents to be confident in their abilities and to trust their training, noting that they often will be asked to manage complicated cases because of patient travel and cost constraints; however, clinicians should recognize their own limitations and those of nearby specialists and develop a referral network for cases that require multidisciplinary care (text communication, September 14, 2025).

The hub-and-spoke models—whether they entail an academic center as the hub with private practices as the spokes, or a network of private practices that include rural subspecialists—allows rural dermatologists to remain trusted local experts while ensuring that patients can access advanced care via a more streamlined referral process/network. The challenge is triage: what can be managed locally and what must patients travel for? As Dr. Shaffer explained, decisions about whether care is managed locally or referred to a hub often depend on the experience and comfort level of both the physician and the patient (email communication, September 5, 2025). Ultimately, continuity and trust are central. Patients rely on their local dermatologist to guide these decisions, and that guidance makes the model effective.

Finding the Right Fit

The idea that rural practice means being stuck in a small solo clinic is outdated. Multiple pathways exist, each with strengths and challenges. Independent private practice offers maximum autonomy and deep community integration, though financial and staffing risks are yours to manage. Hospital employment with outreach clinics provides stability, benefits, and collegiality, but bureaucracy can limit innovation and efficiency. Private equity platforms supply resources and rapid growth, but alignment with mission and autonomy must be weighed carefully. Hybrid joint ventures with hospitals combine private control and institutional support, but contracts can be complex. Locum tenens–to-permanent arrangements let you try rural life with minimal commitment, but continuity with patients may be sacrificed. A self-screener can clarify your path: How much autonomy do I want? Do I prefer predictability or variety? How important are procedures, teaching, or community roles? Answer these questions honestly and pair that insight with mentor guidance.

Getting Started: A 90-Day Outline

Launching a rural dermatology clinic is equal parts vision and structure. A focused 90-day plan can make the difference between a smooth opening and early frustration. Think in 4 domains: site selection, employment and licensing, credentialing and contracting, and operations. Even in a compressed timeline, dozens of small but crucial tasks may surface. There are resources—such as the Medical Group Management Association’s practice start-up checklist—that can provide a roadmap, ensuring no detail is overlooked as you transform a vision into a functioning clinic.²

Site Selection—First, determine whether you are opening a new standalone clinic, extending an existing practice, or creating a part-time satellite. Referral mapping with local primary care providers is essential, as is a scan of payer mix and dermatologist density in the region to ensure sustainability.

Employment and Licensing—Confirm state licensure and Drug Enforcement Administration registration and initiate hospital privileges early. These processes can stretch across the entire 90-day window, so starting immediately is critical.

Credentialing and Contracting—Applications with commercial and federal payers, along with Council for Affordable Quality Healthcare updates, often consume weeks if not months. If you plan to perform office microscopy or establish a dermatopathology laboratory, begin the Clinical Laboratory Improvement Amendments certification process in parallel.

Operations—Once the regulatory wheels are in motion, shift to building your practice infrastructure. Secure space, weigh lease vs purchase, and consider partnerships with local hospitals for shared clinic facilities. Recruit staff with dermatology-specific skills such as clinical photography and biopsy assistance. Implement an electronic health record, set up payroll and malpractice insurance, and establish supply chains for everything from liquid nitrogen to surgical trays. Decide whether revenue cycle management will be in-house or outsourced and finalize dermatopathology workflows including courier and transport agreements.

Compensation and Career Sustainability

Compensation in rural dermatology mirrors that of other clinical settings: base salary with productivity bonuses, revenue pooling, or relative value unit structures. Financial planning is crucial. Develop a pro forma that models patient volume, expenses, and realistic growth. Risks exist, including payer mix, staffing, and competition, but the demand for care in underserved areas often offsets these, and communities may support practices with reduced overhead and strong loyalty. Hospital systems may add stipends for supervising advanced practitioners or outreach travel. Loan repayment programs, tax credits, and grants can further enhance packages. Consider checking with the state’s Office of Rural Health.

Career sustainability ultimately depends on more than finances. Geography, amenities, schedule flexibility, autonomy in medical decision-making, work-life balance, the value of being part of and serving a community, and other personal values will shape your “best-fit” practice model. Ask whether you can envision yourself thriving in the community you would be serving.

Broader Efforts and Community

No one builds a rural dermatology practice alone. That is why one of the authors (M.E.L.) created the Rural Access to Dermatology Society (https://www.radsociety.org/), a nonprofit organization connecting dermatologists, residents, and medical students with a shared mission. The organization supports residents through scholarships, mentorship, and telementoring. Faculty can contribute through advocacy, residency track development, and outreach to uniquely underserved rural populations such as Native American reservations where access to dermatology care remains severely limited. Joining can be as simple as attending a webinar, finding a mentor, or volunteering at a free clinic. You do not need to launch your own clinic to get involved; you can begin by connecting with a network already laying the foundation.

Teledermatology and Academic Tracks

Teledermatology and academic initiatives enhance rural care but do not replace in-person practice. Store-and-forward consultations extend reach but cannot match the continuity and trust of long-term patient relationships. Academic rural tracks prepare residents for unique challenges, but someone must staff the clinics. Private and hybrid models remain the backbone of rural access, where dermatologists take on the responsibility and the joy of being the local expert.

Final Thoughts

At its heart, rural dermatology is about trust and presence. Patients will share stories of delayed care, of driving hours for an appointment, of feeling invisible in the health care system. When you choose this path, you are not just filling a workforce gap, you are changing trajectories of lives, families, and communities. The rewards are not easily measured in relative value units or contracts; they show up in the loyalty of patients who return year after year, in the gratitude of families who no longer have to travel to “the big city,” and in the satisfaction of building something bigger than yourself. As Dr. Shaffer noted, he views success primarily in relational terms, reflected in long-term patient trust and continuity of care, particularly when individuals with serious conditions return over many years and entrust him with their ongoing management (email communication, September 5, 2025).

So here’s the invitation: bring one question to your mentor about rural practice and identify one rural site you could visit. The road less traveled in dermatology is closer than you think—and it might just be your path.

Rural dermatology is not as simple as it seems. For some, it means being the only dermatologist in a county where patients drive 3 hours for an appointment; for others, it means practicing in a mid-sized town and serving as both community doctor and regional referral point. Too often, rural dermatology is dismissed as isolating or career limiting, but the truth is very different. Rural dermatologists see plenty of common conditions such as acne and eczema, but they also see complex inflammatory diseases and advanced skin cancers that reflect delays in care for patients living in rural communities in the United States. Careers in rural dermatology can be flexible and creative, ranging from private practice to hospital employment to hybrid models that blend community and academic life.

The myths persist: You will lack colleagues. Your practice will be thin. You must sacrifice academic engagement. In reality, rural practice offers variety, leadership opportunities, and the chance to influence the health of entire communities in profound ways. In this article, we aim to unpack what rural dermatology actually looks like as a potential career path for residents, with a focus on private-academic hybrid and hospital-based practice models.

What Does Rural Really Mean?

Definitions of the term rural vary. For the US Census Bureau, it is synonymous with nonurban, and for the Office of Management and Budget, the term ­nonmetropolitan is preferred. The US Department of Agriculture’s ­Rural-Urban Commuting Area codes recognize a continuum of classifications from micropolitan to remote. In practice, the term rural covers a wide spectrum: the rolling farmlands of the Midwest, the mountains of Montana, the bayous of the South, the Native American reservations in New Mexico, and everything in between. It is not one uniform reality—rural America is diverse, resilient, and deeply connected.

A Day in Rural Practice

Daily clinic flow may look familiar: a full schedule, a mix of new and established patients, and frequent simple procedures such as biopsies and corticosteroid injections. But the scope of practice is wider. You become the dermatologist for hundreds of miles in every direction, managing most conditions locally while referring select cases to subspecialty centers.

Case variety is striking. Neglected tumors, unusual inflammatory presentations, pediatric conditions, and occupational dermatoses/injuries appear alongside the routine. Each day requires flexibility, judgment, confidence, and the ability to think outside the box. You must consider how a patient’s seasonal work, such as ranching or farming, and/or their total commute time impacts the risk-benefit discussion around treatment recommendations.

Matthew P. Shaffer, MD (Salina, Kansas), who has practiced rural dermatology for more than 20 years, explained that the breadth of dermatologic cases in which he served as the expert was both exciting and intimidating, but it became clear that this was the right professional path for him (email communication, September 5, 2025). In small communities, your role extends beyond the clinic walls. You will see patients at the grocery store, the library, and school events. That continuity fosters loyalty and accountability in ways that are hard to quantify.

Hybrid Partnerships and Hospital-Based Practice

Many practice structures exist: independent clinics, multispecialty groups, hospital employment, and increasingly, hybrid partnerships with academic centers.

Academic institutions have recognized the importance of rural exposure, and many now collaborate with rural dermatologists. For example, Heartland Dermatology in Salina, Kansas, where 2 of the authors (B.R.L. and T.G.) practice, partners with St. Louis University in Missouri to provide a residency track and rotations in rural clinics.

Rural-based hospital systems can create similar structures. Monument Health Dermatology in Spearfish, South Dakota, is integrated into the fabric of the community’s larger rural health care model. The physician (M.E.L.) collaborates daily with primary care providers, surgeons, and oncologists through a shared electronic health record (sometimes even through telephone speed-dial given the close collegiality of small-town providers). Patients come from across 4 states, some driving 6 hours each way. Patients who once doubted whether dermatology was worth the trip will consistently return for follow-up care once trust is earned. The stability of hospital employment supports volunteer faculty positions and a free satellite clinic in partnership with a local Lakota Tribal health center. There is never a dull day: the providers see urgent add-ons daily, which keeps them on their toes but in exchange brings immense reward. This includes a recent case from rural Wyoming: a complex mixed infantile hemangioma on the mid face just entering the rapid proliferation phase. Propranolol was started immediately, as opposed to months later when it was too late—a common complication for the majority of rural patients by the time to get to a dermatologist.

The Hub-and-Spoke Model

Complex cases can overwhelm rural practices, and this is when the hub-and-spoke model is invaluable. Dermatologists embed in local communities as spokes, while subspecialty services such as pediatric dermatology, dermatopathology, or Mohs micrographic surgery remain centralized at hubs. The hubs can be but do not have to be academic institutions; for Heartland Dermatology in Kansas, private practices fulfill both hub and spoke roles. With that said, 10 states do not have academic dermatology programs.¹ Mohs surgeons and pediatric dermatologists still can establish robust and successful independent rural subspecialty practices outside academic hubs. Christopher Gasbarre, DO (Spearfish, South Dakota), a board-certified, fellowship-trained Mohs surgeon in rural practice, advises residents to be confident in their abilities and to trust their training, noting that they often will be asked to manage complicated cases because of patient travel and cost constraints; however, clinicians should recognize their own limitations and those of nearby specialists and develop a referral network for cases that require multidisciplinary care (text communication, September 14, 2025).

The hub-and-spoke models—whether they entail an academic center as the hub with private practices as the spokes, or a network of private practices that include rural subspecialists—allows rural dermatologists to remain trusted local experts while ensuring that patients can access advanced care via a more streamlined referral process/network. The challenge is triage: what can be managed locally and what must patients travel for? As Dr. Shaffer explained, decisions about whether care is managed locally or referred to a hub often depend on the experience and comfort level of both the physician and the patient (email communication, September 5, 2025). Ultimately, continuity and trust are central. Patients rely on their local dermatologist to guide these decisions, and that guidance makes the model effective.

Finding the Right Fit

The idea that rural practice means being stuck in a small solo clinic is outdated. Multiple pathways exist, each with strengths and challenges. Independent private practice offers maximum autonomy and deep community integration, though financial and staffing risks are yours to manage. Hospital employment with outreach clinics provides stability, benefits, and collegiality, but bureaucracy can limit innovation and efficiency. Private equity platforms supply resources and rapid growth, but alignment with mission and autonomy must be weighed carefully. Hybrid joint ventures with hospitals combine private control and institutional support, but contracts can be complex. Locum tenens–to-permanent arrangements let you try rural life with minimal commitment, but continuity with patients may be sacrificed. A self-screener can clarify your path: How much autonomy do I want? Do I prefer predictability or variety? How important are procedures, teaching, or community roles? Answer these questions honestly and pair that insight with mentor guidance.

Getting Started: A 90-Day Outline

Launching a rural dermatology clinic is equal parts vision and structure. A focused 90-day plan can make the difference between a smooth opening and early frustration. Think in 4 domains: site selection, employment and licensing, credentialing and contracting, and operations. Even in a compressed timeline, dozens of small but crucial tasks may surface. There are resources—such as the Medical Group Management Association’s practice start-up checklist—that can provide a roadmap, ensuring no detail is overlooked as you transform a vision into a functioning clinic.²

Site Selection—First, determine whether you are opening a new standalone clinic, extending an existing practice, or creating a part-time satellite. Referral mapping with local primary care providers is essential, as is a scan of payer mix and dermatologist density in the region to ensure sustainability.

Employment and Licensing—Confirm state licensure and Drug Enforcement Administration registration and initiate hospital privileges early. These processes can stretch across the entire 90-day window, so starting immediately is critical.

Credentialing and Contracting—Applications with commercial and federal payers, along with Council for Affordable Quality Healthcare updates, often consume weeks if not months. If you plan to perform office microscopy or establish a dermatopathology laboratory, begin the Clinical Laboratory Improvement Amendments certification process in parallel.

Operations—Once the regulatory wheels are in motion, shift to building your practice infrastructure. Secure space, weigh lease vs purchase, and consider partnerships with local hospitals for shared clinic facilities. Recruit staff with dermatology-specific skills such as clinical photography and biopsy assistance. Implement an electronic health record, set up payroll and malpractice insurance, and establish supply chains for everything from liquid nitrogen to surgical trays. Decide whether revenue cycle management will be in-house or outsourced and finalize dermatopathology workflows including courier and transport agreements.

Compensation and Career Sustainability

Compensation in rural dermatology mirrors that of other clinical settings: base salary with productivity bonuses, revenue pooling, or relative value unit structures. Financial planning is crucial. Develop a pro forma that models patient volume, expenses, and realistic growth. Risks exist, including payer mix, staffing, and competition, but the demand for care in underserved areas often offsets these, and communities may support practices with reduced overhead and strong loyalty. Hospital systems may add stipends for supervising advanced practitioners or outreach travel. Loan repayment programs, tax credits, and grants can further enhance packages. Consider checking with the state’s Office of Rural Health.

Career sustainability ultimately depends on more than finances. Geography, amenities, schedule flexibility, autonomy in medical decision-making, work-life balance, the value of being part of and serving a community, and other personal values will shape your “best-fit” practice model. Ask whether you can envision yourself thriving in the community you would be serving.

Broader Efforts and Community

No one builds a rural dermatology practice alone. That is why one of the authors (M.E.L.) created the Rural Access to Dermatology Society (https://www.radsociety.org/), a nonprofit organization connecting dermatologists, residents, and medical students with a shared mission. The organization supports residents through scholarships, mentorship, and telementoring. Faculty can contribute through advocacy, residency track development, and outreach to uniquely underserved rural populations such as Native American reservations where access to dermatology care remains severely limited. Joining can be as simple as attending a webinar, finding a mentor, or volunteering at a free clinic. You do not need to launch your own clinic to get involved; you can begin by connecting with a network already laying the foundation.

Teledermatology and Academic Tracks

Teledermatology and academic initiatives enhance rural care but do not replace in-person practice. Store-and-forward consultations extend reach but cannot match the continuity and trust of long-term patient relationships. Academic rural tracks prepare residents for unique challenges, but someone must staff the clinics. Private and hybrid models remain the backbone of rural access, where dermatologists take on the responsibility and the joy of being the local expert.

Final Thoughts

At its heart, rural dermatology is about trust and presence. Patients will share stories of delayed care, of driving hours for an appointment, of feeling invisible in the health care system. When you choose this path, you are not just filling a workforce gap, you are changing trajectories of lives, families, and communities. The rewards are not easily measured in relative value units or contracts; they show up in the loyalty of patients who return year after year, in the gratitude of families who no longer have to travel to “the big city,” and in the satisfaction of building something bigger than yourself. As Dr. Shaffer noted, he views success primarily in relational terms, reflected in long-term patient trust and continuity of care, particularly when individuals with serious conditions return over many years and entrust him with their ongoing management (email communication, September 5, 2025).

So here’s the invitation: bring one question to your mentor about rural practice and identify one rural site you could visit. The road less traveled in dermatology is closer than you think—and it might just be your path.

Rural dermatology is not as simple as it seems. For some, it means being the only dermatologist in a county where patients drive 3 hours for an appointment; for others, it means practicing in a mid-sized town and serving as both community doctor and regional referral point. Too often, rural dermatology is dismissed as isolating or career limiting, but the truth is very different. Rural dermatologists see plenty of common conditions such as acne and eczema, but they also see complex inflammatory diseases and advanced skin cancers that reflect delays in care for patients living in rural communities in the United States. Careers in rural dermatology can be flexible and creative, ranging from private practice to hospital employment to hybrid models that blend community and academic life.

The myths persist: You will lack colleagues. Your practice will be thin. You must sacrifice academic engagement. In reality, rural practice offers variety, leadership opportunities, and the chance to influence the health of entire communities in profound ways. In this article, we aim to unpack what rural dermatology actually looks like as a potential career path for residents, with a focus on private-academic hybrid and hospital-based practice models.

What Does Rural Really Mean?

Definitions of the term rural vary. For the US Census Bureau, it is synonymous with nonurban, and for the Office of Management and Budget, the term ­nonmetropolitan is preferred. The US Department of Agriculture’s ­Rural-Urban Commuting Area codes recognize a continuum of classifications from micropolitan to remote. In practice, the term rural covers a wide spectrum: the rolling farmlands of the Midwest, the mountains of Montana, the bayous of the South, the Native American reservations in New Mexico, and everything in between. It is not one uniform reality—rural America is diverse, resilient, and deeply connected.

A Day in Rural Practice

Daily clinic flow may look familiar: a full schedule, a mix of new and established patients, and frequent simple procedures such as biopsies and corticosteroid injections. But the scope of practice is wider. You become the dermatologist for hundreds of miles in every direction, managing most conditions locally while referring select cases to subspecialty centers.

Case variety is striking. Neglected tumors, unusual inflammatory presentations, pediatric conditions, and occupational dermatoses/injuries appear alongside the routine. Each day requires flexibility, judgment, confidence, and the ability to think outside the box. You must consider how a patient’s seasonal work, such as ranching or farming, and/or their total commute time impacts the risk-benefit discussion around treatment recommendations.

Matthew P. Shaffer, MD (Salina, Kansas), who has practiced rural dermatology for more than 20 years, explained that the breadth of dermatologic cases in which he served as the expert was both exciting and intimidating, but it became clear that this was the right professional path for him (email communication, September 5, 2025). In small communities, your role extends beyond the clinic walls. You will see patients at the grocery store, the library, and school events. That continuity fosters loyalty and accountability in ways that are hard to quantify.

Hybrid Partnerships and Hospital-Based Practice

Many practice structures exist: independent clinics, multispecialty groups, hospital employment, and increasingly, hybrid partnerships with academic centers.

Academic institutions have recognized the importance of rural exposure, and many now collaborate with rural dermatologists. For example, Heartland Dermatology in Salina, Kansas, where 2 of the authors (B.R.L. and T.G.) practice, partners with St. Louis University in Missouri to provide a residency track and rotations in rural clinics.

Rural-based hospital systems can create similar structures. Monument Health Dermatology in Spearfish, South Dakota, is integrated into the fabric of the community’s larger rural health care model. The physician (M.E.L.) collaborates daily with primary care providers, surgeons, and oncologists through a shared electronic health record (sometimes even through telephone speed-dial given the close collegiality of small-town providers). Patients come from across 4 states, some driving 6 hours each way. Patients who once doubted whether dermatology was worth the trip will consistently return for follow-up care once trust is earned. The stability of hospital employment supports volunteer faculty positions and a free satellite clinic in partnership with a local Lakota Tribal health center. There is never a dull day: the providers see urgent add-ons daily, which keeps them on their toes but in exchange brings immense reward. This includes a recent case from rural Wyoming: a complex mixed infantile hemangioma on the mid face just entering the rapid proliferation phase. Propranolol was started immediately, as opposed to months later when it was too late—a common complication for the majority of rural patients by the time to get to a dermatologist.

The Hub-and-Spoke Model

Complex cases can overwhelm rural practices, and this is when the hub-and-spoke model is invaluable. Dermatologists embed in local communities as spokes, while subspecialty services such as pediatric dermatology, dermatopathology, or Mohs micrographic surgery remain centralized at hubs. The hubs can be but do not have to be academic institutions; for Heartland Dermatology in Kansas, private practices fulfill both hub and spoke roles. With that said, 10 states do not have academic dermatology programs.¹ Mohs surgeons and pediatric dermatologists still can establish robust and successful independent rural subspecialty practices outside academic hubs. Christopher Gasbarre, DO (Spearfish, South Dakota), a board-certified, fellowship-trained Mohs surgeon in rural practice, advises residents to be confident in their abilities and to trust their training, noting that they often will be asked to manage complicated cases because of patient travel and cost constraints; however, clinicians should recognize their own limitations and those of nearby specialists and develop a referral network for cases that require multidisciplinary care (text communication, September 14, 2025).

The hub-and-spoke models—whether they entail an academic center as the hub with private practices as the spokes, or a network of private practices that include rural subspecialists—allows rural dermatologists to remain trusted local experts while ensuring that patients can access advanced care via a more streamlined referral process/network. The challenge is triage: what can be managed locally and what must patients travel for? As Dr. Shaffer explained, decisions about whether care is managed locally or referred to a hub often depend on the experience and comfort level of both the physician and the patient (email communication, September 5, 2025). Ultimately, continuity and trust are central. Patients rely on their local dermatologist to guide these decisions, and that guidance makes the model effective.

Finding the Right Fit

The idea that rural practice means being stuck in a small solo clinic is outdated. Multiple pathways exist, each with strengths and challenges. Independent private practice offers maximum autonomy and deep community integration, though financial and staffing risks are yours to manage. Hospital employment with outreach clinics provides stability, benefits, and collegiality, but bureaucracy can limit innovation and efficiency. Private equity platforms supply resources and rapid growth, but alignment with mission and autonomy must be weighed carefully. Hybrid joint ventures with hospitals combine private control and institutional support, but contracts can be complex. Locum tenens–to-permanent arrangements let you try rural life with minimal commitment, but continuity with patients may be sacrificed. A self-screener can clarify your path: How much autonomy do I want? Do I prefer predictability or variety? How important are procedures, teaching, or community roles? Answer these questions honestly and pair that insight with mentor guidance.

Getting Started: A 90-Day Outline

Launching a rural dermatology clinic is equal parts vision and structure. A focused 90-day plan can make the difference between a smooth opening and early frustration. Think in 4 domains: site selection, employment and licensing, credentialing and contracting, and operations. Even in a compressed timeline, dozens of small but crucial tasks may surface. There are resources—such as the Medical Group Management Association’s practice start-up checklist—that can provide a roadmap, ensuring no detail is overlooked as you transform a vision into a functioning clinic.²

Site Selection—First, determine whether you are opening a new standalone clinic, extending an existing practice, or creating a part-time satellite. Referral mapping with local primary care providers is essential, as is a scan of payer mix and dermatologist density in the region to ensure sustainability.

Employment and Licensing—Confirm state licensure and Drug Enforcement Administration registration and initiate hospital privileges early. These processes can stretch across the entire 90-day window, so starting immediately is critical.

Credentialing and Contracting—Applications with commercial and federal payers, along with Council for Affordable Quality Healthcare updates, often consume weeks if not months. If you plan to perform office microscopy or establish a dermatopathology laboratory, begin the Clinical Laboratory Improvement Amendments certification process in parallel.

Operations—Once the regulatory wheels are in motion, shift to building your practice infrastructure. Secure space, weigh lease vs purchase, and consider partnerships with local hospitals for shared clinic facilities. Recruit staff with dermatology-specific skills such as clinical photography and biopsy assistance. Implement an electronic health record, set up payroll and malpractice insurance, and establish supply chains for everything from liquid nitrogen to surgical trays. Decide whether revenue cycle management will be in-house or outsourced and finalize dermatopathology workflows including courier and transport agreements.

Compensation and Career Sustainability

Compensation in rural dermatology mirrors that of other clinical settings: base salary with productivity bonuses, revenue pooling, or relative value unit structures. Financial planning is crucial. Develop a pro forma that models patient volume, expenses, and realistic growth. Risks exist, including payer mix, staffing, and competition, but the demand for care in underserved areas often offsets these, and communities may support practices with reduced overhead and strong loyalty. Hospital systems may add stipends for supervising advanced practitioners or outreach travel. Loan repayment programs, tax credits, and grants can further enhance packages. Consider checking with the state’s Office of Rural Health.

Career sustainability ultimately depends on more than finances. Geography, amenities, schedule flexibility, autonomy in medical decision-making, work-life balance, the value of being part of and serving a community, and other personal values will shape your “best-fit” practice model. Ask whether you can envision yourself thriving in the community you would be serving.

Broader Efforts and Community

No one builds a rural dermatology practice alone. That is why one of the authors (M.E.L.) created the Rural Access to Dermatology Society (https://www.radsociety.org/), a nonprofit organization connecting dermatologists, residents, and medical students with a shared mission. The organization supports residents through scholarships, mentorship, and telementoring. Faculty can contribute through advocacy, residency track development, and outreach to uniquely underserved rural populations such as Native American reservations where access to dermatology care remains severely limited. Joining can be as simple as attending a webinar, finding a mentor, or volunteering at a free clinic. You do not need to launch your own clinic to get involved; you can begin by connecting with a network already laying the foundation.

Teledermatology and Academic Tracks

Teledermatology and academic initiatives enhance rural care but do not replace in-person practice. Store-and-forward consultations extend reach but cannot match the continuity and trust of long-term patient relationships. Academic rural tracks prepare residents for unique challenges, but someone must staff the clinics. Private and hybrid models remain the backbone of rural access, where dermatologists take on the responsibility and the joy of being the local expert.

Final Thoughts

At its heart, rural dermatology is about trust and presence. Patients will share stories of delayed care, of driving hours for an appointment, of feeling invisible in the health care system. When you choose this path, you are not just filling a workforce gap, you are changing trajectories of lives, families, and communities. The rewards are not easily measured in relative value units or contracts; they show up in the loyalty of patients who return year after year, in the gratitude of families who no longer have to travel to “the big city,” and in the satisfaction of building something bigger than yourself. As Dr. Shaffer noted, he views success primarily in relational terms, reflected in long-term patient trust and continuity of care, particularly when individuals with serious conditions return over many years and entrust him with their ongoing management (email communication, September 5, 2025).

So here’s the invitation: bring one question to your mentor about rural practice and identify one rural site you could visit. The road less traveled in dermatology is closer than you think—and it might just be your path.