Personal perspective: Lessons for me, the 31-year-old young surgeon.
Last week I was invited to speak to the graduating class of orthopedic residents at the University of Texas Medical Branch in Galveston, Texas. The invitation came from Dr. Ronald Lindsey and his long-time colleague Dr. Zbigniew Gugala. Just 21 years ago, I received my diploma from Dr. Lindsey, the head of my department. I was 31, it was 2003, I lacked confidence, and I could hardly believe that I would soon be born an official orthopedic surgeon.
When Ron called and invited me to speak to his residents and share some words of wisdom, I decided to put my thoughts into the form of a letter to my 31-year-old self. What would I say to her? How would I build her up? Could my younger self understand that my 52-year-old self was trustworthy and worth listening to?
At 31, I was engaged to a man I loved, who had bright eyes and was eager to get married and start a family. At 52, I am divorced from that man after 17 mostly wonderful years of marriage. Our three children are the loves of my life, they are the best of both of us, and I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything.
I now realize that at 31, I was still learning to be a pediatric surgeon. I was learning the art of medicine and surgery. I struggled with the realization that I couldn’t please everyone and that putting patients first did not and does not mean that I always have to do what I want them to do or give them the right treatment. I was arrogant in my youth and thought I could influence health care and protect my field from the encroachments of corporate medicine. At 52, I accepted what I can and cannot change and have found a niche in orthopedic care at Shriners Children’s Hospital. I get to operate in an organization with a mission that values the doctor-patient relationship and puts children and their families at the center of all our work.
My 52-year-old self would tell my 31-year-old self that I would have the chance to sit in the boardroom of the Pediatric Orthopaedic Society of North America and the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgery. That I would be president of the Ruth Jackson Orthopaedic Society next year. And that I would have the courage to co-found a movement for change, #SpeakUpOrtho (https://www.speakuportho.org/). I would tell myself that I would find my voice and have the integrity to call out unprofessional behavior in my beloved profession as an orthopaedic surgeon, and that I would be heard by countless speakers about eradicating bullying, harassment, and retaliation from our orthopaedic culture.
I would tell my 31-year-old self that I would find my purpose and my voice in advocating for equity and inclusion in surgery. I would remember that our patients deserve orthopedic surgeons of all genders, representing all minorities, all sexual orientations, and representing socioeconomic, racial, and ethnic diversity.
Before anything else, I would think back to the young woman who found her wings to fly out of the cage after 26 years of training and tell her it was OK to write her own story. I would tell that young woman to hug her father. I would tell her to realize that my father had championed diversity, equity, and inclusion in orthopedics before DEI became a ubiquitous, aspirational buzzword. My father lived for his children and grandchildren. He welcomed me into the boys’ club and instilled in me the belief that I could be a surgeon and a mother, an orthopedic surgeon and a mother.
To all residents entering the world of medicine after graduation: Be good to yourselves. Be good to each other. Stay true to your relationships with your patients and let patient care be your guide. Get enough sleep, exercise and eat well.
Let others step in for you, because practicing medicine is a marathon, not a sprint. If you get off track, find your way back to your younger self and reconnect with everything that inspired you to become a doctor. And remember to make that younger version of yourself proud.
