“Professionalism” has become a catchphrase in medicine. In particular, the term is used as an administrative mantra addressing all aspects of physicians’ proper attitude and behavior. Mandates to codify dress, body language, communication, staff relations, and patientcentered priorities are justified by the invocation of “professionalism.” But why are codes of conduct needed? The answer lies at the heart of medical humanities. The very need to call on “professionalism” in order to model earnestness and good will is proof positive that the medical endeavor is at its core a human endeavor. And as such, the practice of medicine is as full of conflict, angst, frustration, joy and grace as human life itself. Medical humanities allows for nuance and depth. It teaches us that to become a physician is to be transformed. The profession is not donned as a coat, only to be abandoned at the door, hung on a hook till needed again. The profession is within. In physician Dannie Abse’s seminal poem, Pathology of Colours, we learn of the invasiveness of medical training. The poem teaches us that the very perception of color changes with medical exposure: the green of spring’s new growth transforms into the gangrene of diseased flesh. One cannot now witness spring without also sensing decay, though perhaps the reverse is also true. Like an invisible, deep, permanent tattoo, medical training marks us in subversive ways. Of course, medicine holds no monopoly on transformation. Multiple life transitions and professions transform. For instance, new parents respond to the world differently— perceptions, responsibilities and expectations change. And the newborn is not only a demanding bundle of joy but also a symbol of legacy, future and hope. Likewise for the physician: neighbors, family members and friends shimmer, like optical illusions, into J Med Humanit (2007) 28:173–180 DOI 10.1007/s10912-007-9037-x