Don't Lose Sight of What's Important

A lesson for my profession. And everyone else along the way…

It's easy for us to become completely identified by our profession. Goodness knows, we seem insubstantial without all the right diplomas, certificates, and certifications. Of course, once we're in the habit of attainment, we often want more. After our credentials are up to date, attainment may come in the form of leadership or fellowship, research or advocacy, or sometimes more money. For some, it comes in the form of things. Houses, cars, expensive hobbies, or lavish travel. We do not slow down well.

In the end, it comes down to connection. Our families, in particular, offer the greatest solace, followed closely by cherished friends and maybe some pets thrown in there as well.

This is sentimental but also biological. This desire for family, a need for a partner, the ache to see our line go on in our offspring. All of this is as ancient as the human race.

I've seen it over and over when a young person discovers the true wonder of a good marriage and the children that flow from it. Family is a credential that we professionals do not list except in passing, almost parenthetically. “Dr. Leap is married and has four adult children.”

But it encompasses so much more. My CV, for instance, might read, “Dr. Leap has been certified by his wife as a proper husband after many years of learning, effort, and guidance. He learned to wake in the middle of the night for crying children, he understands the importance of a clean bathroom, he was a qualified homeschool principal, and he later navigated the pickup line at public school. He was also certified in waiting outside music lessons (the bagpipe, in particular), can bring snacks to soccer, understands the necessity of giving his wife a night away, and is a skilled reader of bedtime stories. His dad joke repertoire is extensive. He knows the importance of date night and neck massages. He has developed great facility at paying for tuition, meeting his children's love interests, and buying used cars. He is board certified at worrying while his children travel. He would gladly die for the wife and children he loves with all his heart.

We have concerns about our specialty's workforce. But maybe part of the problem is that many of our physicians, those who have all the right education and letters, have realized what my friend has: Being home and loving the people in our lives matters a good bit more than all that. Doubtless, some of the women leaving the field have done this calculation, being generally smarter about things like these than men tend to be.

It's a positive if physicians are leaving to be with their spouses and children more. That's progress from the days when having a physician-parent meant an empty chair at every dinner or event, children bitter for lack of attention, and maybe a divorce in the end.

This is not mere self-interest. Families are the bedrock of a nation, and children are the future. Without them, there aren't scientists or construction workers, physicians or truck drivers, teachers or sailors.

A habit my wife and I learned as Appalachians is wandering through cemeteries. My children have adopted this behavior too. It is a kind of modern homage to the ancient idea of memento mori, to remember the day of your death. I have found that tombstones do not carry detailed descriptions of our attainments. Oh, sometimes they'll say “physician” or “pastor,” “teacher” or “judge.” “Colonel” or “Private First Class” might be written in bronze in remembrance of military service. But mostly they say, “beloved wife and mother,” “dear father,” “treasured son or daughter.” What they don't say is “board certified” or “He had great door-to-needle times.” They don't say, “She could really move the patients.”

Our work is important, critically important, but not in and of itself. It is only to the extent that it helps keep other people alive and well and with the people they love for as long as possible. And it helps support us as we do the same.

Author G.K. Chesterton once said, “The most extraordinary thing in the world is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman with their ordinary children.”

That's a bit of continuing education worth remembering.