Happy Doctor’s Day!
Happy Doctor’s Day?
Is this a day for happy doctors? Am I a happy doctor? Yes. But it’s not because I’m a doctor.
Do I derive satisfaction from meaningful relationships with patients and seeing them improve their health? Yes. Do I enjoy solving a diagnostic mystery? Yes. Does the complexity and wonder of our bodies lead me in worship of my Creator? Yes. But the truth is that my happiness doesn’t come from being a doctor (the picture above is from when we were farmer-doctors, but that’s a different story).
I was one of those people who went straight through in my schooling, spending my roaring 20s and early 30s amongst books, whitewashed clinics and dank call rooms. I don’t regret those years. They were full of personal, vocational and spiritual growth. Relationships I formed in those years have lasted decades, the most meaningful being that of my marriage to my husband and fellow physician Dustin. Despite thousands and thousands of hours spent working, there are so many wonderful things that we’ve done and seen and people we’ve known. Every year for the past 15 years, I’ve created a printed book of digital photos we’ve snapped over the year. How many of those show me at the clinic? Basically none. But the book is full! My life is full of meaning and enjoyment because first 1) I am loved by God and find joy in my relationship with Him 2) I have people who love and care for me 3) my needs are supplied and 4) I can serve and love others. Number four is related, but not exclusive to medicine. Whether it’s cooking up a good meal to serve my family, writing a story for my nieces and nephews, serving at my church, or diagnosing and treating a patient with pneumonia, helping others is fulfilling. It was meant to be that way.
The concept of identity being wrapped up in one’s profession is not unique to doctors, though is common. I see how some doctors ask to go by “Dr.” whatever the context, even once they are retired. That’s fine. It’s their prerogative. They earned it. Others bemoan the decreasing respect for the profession, its wisdom and skill. The women physician Facebook groups I follow contain frequent rants about not getting enough respect from male colleagues, and I can relate to more than one instance where someone wanted to know if I was a nurse or told me I looked too young to be credible (those comments are getting fewer as the gray hairs come in!). But I’ve learned through these years to let that wash off my shoulders. Medicine has always been and will be humbling profession. I’m thankful my parents consistently loved and affirmed us as we were growing up, and I’m sure that has much to do with my sense of self as well. True strength of identity is not in a profession or having the masses confirm your worth. I love a good pat-on-the back as much as others, but if that is what one lives for, you will only find a black hole. A black hole is never satisfied. Take a look at the social media and Hollywood stars, and you will see many with an early demise.
I go by “Dr. Larson” when I’m in the exam room and that’s mostly to establish the professional nature of the relationship and my role in the visit. Otherwise, I’m happy to be Angela. Or Auntie Angela or Ang to my close family. I just happen to be a doctor.
