母親是一位臨終關(guān)懷醫(yī)生

Recently， I met with a friend who is both a physician and a mother. She told me she was worried she wasnt doing a “good enough” job being a parent and was missing out on her childrens lives.

Ive learned from other physicians that they also believe the demands of their profession will somehow adversely affect their childs upbringing.

I tell my colleagues not to worry， and that one day their child will thank them for their life as a doctors child.

I can say this because I was three when my mother went to medical school.

Growing up as the daughter of a palliative-care physician wasnt easy： I came to understand that the sound of the hospital pager， day or night， meant my mothers absence， having to share her with other people， and being exposed to human suffering and death were just part of my life. Nonetheless， being the child of a physician had a positive effect on my life. I learned and experienced many things because my mother became a doctor when she did. Here are four of them.

1） I learned how others experience life. Through my mothers work I was exposed to a variety of people， lifestyles， cultures and circumstances. I met patients who were dying and in pain， and their families. Many were happy， but some were angry or upset， or suffering from addictions， mental illness， poverty or isolation. I went along on home visits to people who were poor and dying alone.

I learned that these experiences， while sad， are realities for others. That many people dont live the same secure life I do， and that life， while good， can be hard.

2） I learned that status doesnt define the person. I was often in situations where I had to interact with other adults—health-care professionals， patients and their families. As a child I hadnt yet formed socially constructed biases， so I lacked the social inhibitions many adults have. Prominent physicians and CEOs didnt intimidate me because their status had little or no meaning to me.

I only cared if someone was kind to me， or wanted to be my friend. I saw that good， kind people who contribute to their community come from all walks of life.

3） I learned that gender wasnt a limit. I met women who held senior professional positions and were also mothers， spouses， members of their community and world travellers. They were strong， confident， intelligent， beautiful， kind women who worked hard for the life they had.

Once I saw a young woman in hospital scrubs who looked like my Barbie doll tearing down the halls of the hospital. When I asked my mother who she was， she told me she was a general surgeon—a very good one. I was impressed. I saw what possibilities existed for me， and that one day I could be like the beautiful surgeon if I was willing to work for it. It gave me the confidence to choose the career I wanted， and as a result I completed a masters degree in bioethics and health law and am pursuing a career as an ethicist.

4） I learned about kindness and generosity. I have been amazed by the level of compassion and humanity that emerges in the most difficult of times. I have seen dying patients hold on to life or endure extraordinary measures because their family was not ready to say goodbye. Ive seen health-care staff go the extra mile for patients. And Ive been given gifts by families even as they were losing someone they loved. One particular story comes to mind.

I was seven when my mother was paged in the middle of the night to care for a dying man. My dad was away on business， so my mother brought me with her. When we arrived at the patients home， my mother attended to him and the family sat me on the living room couch with a blanket and some Archie comics.

I must have fallen asleep. When I awoke the family was in tears; their loved one had died.

After my mother had completed the death certificate and spoken with the family， she collected me to go home. As she was carrying me out to the car， one of the children who had just lost their father ran up to us with a stack of Archie comics. “These are for your daughter，” she said. “I noticed that she enjoyed reading them. Id like her to have them.”

If I could have my childhood over again， I wouldnt change much.

Sure， there were times when I wanted to throw my mothers pager out the window， or wished that she could have attended school events. But even as a child I knew that what I was sacrificing， and what she was sacrificing， were more than worth it for the life that I got to lead. My mothers work as a palliative-care physician provided me with experiences that enriched my life， teaching me valuable lessons， skills and the knowledge of profound kindness， compassion and generosity.

So， to anyone who is concerned about balancing a career in medicine with raising children， I offer you my reassurance. While there will be tough times （and there will be！）， one day your child will thank you for the experiences， and the life， theyve had as a result of your career. I promise.

最近，我跟一位朋友見面聊天，她是一位醫(yī)生，同時也是一位母親。她告訴我她擔心自己不“勝任”母親這份工作，也沒能參與孩子們的生活。

我聽說其他醫(yī)生也認為他們的職業(yè)需求會對他們孩子的成長或多或少帶來不好的影響。

我告訴同事們不要擔心，他們的孩子會在將來的某一天感激那段作為醫(yī)生孩子的生活。

我這樣說是因為我母親在醫(yī)學院上學時，我才三歲。

作為一名臨終關(guān)懷醫(yī)生的女兒，成長并不是一件簡單的事情：我漸漸明白醫(yī)院傳呼機的聲音意味著母親要離開，不分晝夜，必須跟其他人分享她的關(guān)注，被迫面對人類的苦難和死亡，這些都只是我生活的一部分。盡管如此，作為一名醫(yī)生的孩子，這對我的人生有著積極的影響。由于我的母親當上了一名醫(yī)生，我學習并體會到許多事情，以下是其中的四個方面。

（1）我了解到其他人的人生經(jīng)歷。通過我母親的工作，我接觸了很多不同的人、生活方式、文化和境況。我見過垂死并忍受著疼痛的病人以及他們的家人。大多數(shù)人是快樂的，但也有些人是惱怒或傷心的，或因毒癮、精神病、貧窮、孤獨而痛苦不堪。我隨著母親到那些貧窮和沒人陪伴的病人家里探看。

我知道這些經(jīng)歷雖然傷感卻是別人的真實生活。很多人沒有像我一樣過著安穩(wěn)的生活，而那樣的生活雖好但也許會很艱難。

（2）我明白到地位并不能衡量一個人。我常常要跟其他成年人打交道——醫(yī)護人員、病人及其家人。我那時還是一個小孩，還沒有形成社會上的固有偏見，因此我沒有很多成人擁有的社交禁忌。身份顯赫的醫(yī)生和老總們并不會讓我懼怕，因為他們的地位對我來說幾乎沒有（或完全沒有）意義。

我在意的只是這個人是否待我友好，或是否想與我交朋友。我看到的那些友好、善良，并對所在社區(qū)有貢獻的人來自生活的各個領(lǐng)域。

（3）我懂得性別不是限制。我見過一些女性，她們位居高級的專業(yè)職位，同時也是母親、配偶、社團的成員，還周游列國。她們堅強、自信、聰明、漂亮、善良，為自己的生活努力打拼。

有一次，我看到一位看似我那芭比娃娃一樣的年輕女士穿著醫(yī)護制服在醫(yī)院里急沖沖穿行。我問媽媽她是誰，她說她是一位很出色的普通外科醫(yī)生。她給我留下了深刻的印象。我看到自己的可能性，只要我努力，將來有一天我也可以成為那位漂亮的外科醫(yī)生那樣的人。這件事給了我信心去選擇自己想要的職業(yè)，后來，我完成了生物倫理學和醫(yī)療法的碩士學位，現(xiàn)在正爭取成為一名倫理學家。

（4）我學會了善良和慷慨。在最困難的時刻呈現(xiàn)出來的同情心和人性的高度讓我感到驚訝。我見過垂死的病人在生死邊緣掙扎，或忍受著非同尋常的治療手段，只因為他們的家人還不想說永別。我見過醫(yī)療人員為病人付出額外的努力。還有些病人親屬給我禮物，盡管他們失去了深愛的人。其中一件事涌上心頭。

在我七歲的某一天，母親在半夜被傳喚去照顧一位垂死的病人。我父親出差在外，于是母親把我?guī)?。我們到達病人家里后，我母親照顧病人，他的家人讓我坐在客廳的沙發(fā)上，幫我蓋上毯子，給我看些《阿奇》漫畫。

我后來肯定是睡著了，我醒來時那家人在哭泣——他們摯愛的親人去世了。

我媽媽開完了死亡證書，跟他們說完話后就領(lǐng)著我回家了。她把我?guī)У杰囘厱r，其中一個剛剛失去父親的小孩拿著一疊《阿奇》漫畫書向我們跑來?！斑@是給你女兒的，”她說，“我看她很喜歡看。我想把這些送給她?！?/p>

如果我可以讓童年重來，我不想有太多的改變。

當然，有時候我真想把媽媽的傳呼機扔出窗外，或希望她能出席學?；顒印５m然我只是個小孩，我明白我們所作的犧牲對于我以后的生活來說是值得的。我母親的工作——臨終關(guān)懷醫(yī)生，給了我豐富人生的經(jīng)歷，教給我關(guān)于善良、同情心和慷慨的寶貴經(jīng)驗、技巧和知識。

所以，我可以給那些想著如何平衡醫(yī)學工作和養(yǎng)育孩子的人一些安慰。將來遇到困難時（這是肯定的?。?，你的孩子終有一天會感激你給了他們這樣的經(jīng)歷和生活——你的職業(yè)帶來的結(jié)果。我保證。