We realized, about halfway through a busy clinic day, that a copy of a popular weekly gossip magazine was sitting in one of our exam rooms with the headline, "KANYE WEST'S MOM DEAD FROM PLASTIC SURGERY."
Although the article inside was actually informative - it did mention the importance of finding a board certified plastic surgeon - seeing that cover may have been more than a little anxiety-provoking for new patients...
The magazine was relocated.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Blogging is hard
I'll spare you the excuses, but I will say that every time I think about typing another post, it ignites a raging internal debate regarding professionalism and propriety versus the particular pleasure of putting it all out there. Working in the medical field in the era of HIPAA adds a bit of confusion to it all.
Instead, I think I will tread lightly around those sensitive issues. So here's a small peace offering, on a vaguely related topic.
Being a woman is hard, I think. Like one of my colleagues said the other day, we usually don't even notice there's a difference, being in a terribly male-dominated field where you're just expected to perform no matter how you look. But sometimes you're rudely reminded when it's rubbed in your face.
I was with my husband at one of his work functions a few weeks ago. He is also a resident, but in general surgery, and is a few academic years behind me in training (ahem, there was no cradle-robbing involved; I'm actually only three months older, but that's another story). But being there with him, as his wife, was an interesting experience.
As a young-appearing female, you get used to taking a lot of flack in the hospital; but you're also a doctor - a surgeon - who can commandeer a decent amount of respect. Day after day, this odd dichotomy becomes strangely ordinary. But since you're a resident and spend an extraordinary proportion of your life in the medical center, when you do escape, you forget that you're not wearing your name badge or your long white coat. So why would a perfect stranger suspect what you're about?
The work event was actually a luncheon for interviewees. Take a bunch of mostly male job applicants, clad in dark suits and conservative ties, and add a young woman casually dressed in jeans, here with her husband. There was one female applicant. I caught only one snippet of her conversation at the other end of the table, when she blurted out something about how it's impossible for female surgeons to get married...
Basically though, as the wife, I was totally ignored. But when it came out that I was a doctor, and a plastic surgery resident no less, people suddenly realized that I could hold a conversation.
What must it be like for other women out there? Maybe it's really not so bad. Maybe I'm being hypersensitive, but it is so frustrating to be automatically discounted because of your appearance and perceived position. There must be so many interesting stories and insightful thoughts that aren't even given a chance in an average social situation.
Or perhaps it is a blessing. Sometimes it's better to fly under the radar of pompous managers and boorish drones, so no one bothers you, leaving you to feel free to imagine yourself in a more interesting place, drink in hand.
Instead, I think I will tread lightly around those sensitive issues. So here's a small peace offering, on a vaguely related topic.
Being a woman is hard, I think. Like one of my colleagues said the other day, we usually don't even notice there's a difference, being in a terribly male-dominated field where you're just expected to perform no matter how you look. But sometimes you're rudely reminded when it's rubbed in your face.
I was with my husband at one of his work functions a few weeks ago. He is also a resident, but in general surgery, and is a few academic years behind me in training (ahem, there was no cradle-robbing involved; I'm actually only three months older, but that's another story). But being there with him, as his wife, was an interesting experience.
As a young-appearing female, you get used to taking a lot of flack in the hospital; but you're also a doctor - a surgeon - who can commandeer a decent amount of respect. Day after day, this odd dichotomy becomes strangely ordinary. But since you're a resident and spend an extraordinary proportion of your life in the medical center, when you do escape, you forget that you're not wearing your name badge or your long white coat. So why would a perfect stranger suspect what you're about?
The work event was actually a luncheon for interviewees. Take a bunch of mostly male job applicants, clad in dark suits and conservative ties, and add a young woman casually dressed in jeans, here with her husband. There was one female applicant. I caught only one snippet of her conversation at the other end of the table, when she blurted out something about how it's impossible for female surgeons to get married...
Basically though, as the wife, I was totally ignored. But when it came out that I was a doctor, and a plastic surgery resident no less, people suddenly realized that I could hold a conversation.
What must it be like for other women out there? Maybe it's really not so bad. Maybe I'm being hypersensitive, but it is so frustrating to be automatically discounted because of your appearance and perceived position. There must be so many interesting stories and insightful thoughts that aren't even given a chance in an average social situation.
Or perhaps it is a blessing. Sometimes it's better to fly under the radar of pompous managers and boorish drones, so no one bothers you, leaving you to feel free to imagine yourself in a more interesting place, drink in hand.
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