responsibility Tag Archive

A Doctor in the Family

We often assume that having a physician in the family makes illness easier to face. Experience teaches a more complicated reality — that medical knowledge can guide decisions, but it does not separate a doctor from the fears and responsibilities of being family.

I believe having a physician in the family offers some distinct advantages.

The most obvious one is access. Medical information, advice, prescriptions when appropriate, and connections within the healthcare system become easier to obtain. With a physician relative, navigating the maze of a complex healthcare system becomes a little more bearable for the average patient.

But these advantages come with their own complications.

Family dynamics can interfere with a physician’s ability to remain objective. This is why many doctors choose to entrust the treatment of their own family members to colleagues. In these situations, the physician in the family often assumes a different role — not as the primary doctor, but as a healthcare facilitator.

The physician becomes the person who helps navigate the system, coordinates care, explains procedures, and translates medical information into something understandable for everyone else.

In bureaucratic terms, maybe we become a kind of “fixer.”

Not exactly the most flattering title for someone with several letters after their name, but in many ways, that is what we do when someone we love gets sick.

Some physicians still choose to manage their own family members despite the potential bias. It is possible, but it is never easy. Sometimes it takes a personal toll.

I squirm at the sight of my mother being stung by needles. If she winces in pain, I wince too. I feel terrible whenever she complains about swallowing several pills, even when I know those medications are necessary.

When she asks me, “Are you going to cut me again?” my heart melts.

In those moments, I hate being the doctor in the family.

Nobody likes causing pain to someone they love with the promise that it will eventually help them get better.

Is it easier, then, for physicians to manage a sick family member?

No. It isn’t.

I do not find conversations about illness within the family any less painful. Simplifying medical information is challenging. Even when aiming for shared decision-making, you often end up carrying much of the responsibility because everyone sees you as the one who understands the situation best.

And sometimes, not making a decision is also a decision.

There is an unavoidable reality that families with doctors are not exempt from the same problems every other family faces. The cost of healthcare, the complexity of the system, family expectations, fear, and uncertainty do not disappear simply because someone owns a stethoscope.

The hardest part may be carrying the responsibility when medical knowledge reaches its limits.

I have rarely met physicians who proudly claim they “healed” their own family members. But I have met doctors who quietly carry the burden of wondering if they could have done more.

So is having a physician in the family truly an advantage?

As both a physician and a son, I am not always sure.

Let me hear what you think.

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Going Under a Knife to Mold a Surgeon

Medical training teaches surgeons how to stay calm during difficult moments. But when someone you love becomes the patient, the experience changes. Sometimes understanding what it means to care for others begins by standing on the other side of the operating room door.

I must admit, I become a bit compulsive and anxious whenever someone close to me gets sick or needs to undergo a surgical procedure.

In our family, I am the only medically knowledgeable person. Being “the medical guy” in the family carries a tremendous amount of responsibility. Yes, it does.

The surgeries my mom and sister went through, along with the countless times other family members became sick, have taken a heavy toll on my stress reserves. Of course, medical training helps — especially the part where you learn to put on an emotionless face and maintain a calm composure. As surgeons, we need steady hands. Calm hands. Hands that can heal.

But this time, not even my medical training could completely hide the stress. Ironically, being a doctor can make things harder. Medical training fine-tunes your senses and pushes you to become more compulsive about every small detail when someone you love becomes the patient.

Why?

Frankly, I don’t know.

As one good surgeon mentor once told me:

“You can never be a real surgeon unless you go through the knife yourself.”

Then it suddenly made sense. The closest thing for me to personally going under the knife was watching someone closest to me go through it.

And now, for another time, my mom was about to undergo surgery.

Her previous surgeries were emergencies. The decisions were urgent. Preparation time was short. Options were limited. You make the best decision available and pray everything turns out well.

So you might think cataract surgery is minor.

But if you have seen an almost blind elderly patient being guided toward the operating room, you might think differently.

Better preparation, more choices, and lower risks? Maybe. But having more time also brings more responsibility. It means having more chances to check every detail and making sure nothing is missed.

After everything is prepared, it is still surgery.

And when your mother is the one on the operating table, nothing feels minor.

Never mind that my mom is diabetic with beginning retinopathy. Never mind that she has already survived several major surgeries and hospital admissions before.

When someone you love is the patient, every surgery carries weight.

Especially when your mom is the one receiving the surgeon’s knife.

So I continue with my usual attention to detail — the repeated reminders, the extra questions, and the things some people might consider unnecessary.

Maybe it is excessive.

But if I were the patient, I would want my surgeon to do the same thing for me.

Take the extra step.

That additional effort gives me confidence that my surgeon cares about me, not only my disease.

This is one of the lessons I learned from my mother’s surgeries: feel for your patients, put yourself in their situation, and imagine what kind of care you would want if you were the person lying on the operating table.

I try to apply this with my patients. I teach this to my residents.

Stressful? Yes.

But who said the life of a surgeon was easy?

So thank you, Mom.

For going under the knife for me.

You helped mold a better surgeon.

Update: I know my mom’s surgeon probably will not read this, but I have nothing but praise for him. He did not just make an extra effort for my mom. Everything he did reflected his skill and care.

Thank you.

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