Let this post be written in memory and as my tribute to my father, if not a good (I’m not the one to say), at least a well-respected doctor among his colleagues and patients. Let this post be a far too late explanation of why I didn’t choose to become a doctor when I/ we knew that it had always been my father’s dream.
During my childhood and adolescence I lived surrounded by scalpels, syringes, pills,… several rooms in my house were dedicated to my father’s private practice (there was not a Seguridad Social center ). I have seen too much blood and bleeding to last me a lifetime and it certainly took its toll on me. I’m going to save you the gory details but one of my earliest memories is knowing there was a piece of frozen lip in the kitchen freezer from one of my best friends’ brother ( a dog had bitten him). My father always dreamed of one of his children following his line of work but we all disappointed him. I wouldn’t like to be a doctor and the reasons are several.
• All my life I have seen my father being woken up in the middle of the night and leaving home in a hurry
• All my life I have dreaded the telephone ringing in the middle of our Christmas’s dinner and even sometimes we opened up our presents while my father was away healing somebody else
• All my life I have seen my father being verbally assaulted in the streets by patients who didn’t understand that he was not working and he, having the patient of a saint, answering all their doubts and above all, listening.
• All my life I have seen my father worrying to death about a patient
• All my life I have heard people criticising doctors for making mistakes, not prescribing enough pills or too many pills, seeing patients too fast or too slowly. I have seen my father cry over the death of a friend when he, who presumably, had the power, could do nothing to save him. Dad!! You were not God!
There’s a long etc of why I have never considered being a doctor but all my life I have seen my father dedicated to a job that he loved. A good doctor is more than academic excellence, it requires more than brain and skill it is also about compassion, kindness, humanity, tolerance, sensitivity and I like to believe that my father possessed all of them.
Here’s a lesson about Going to the doctor’s I have prepared for my pre-intermediate students. You’re warmly welcome to do it.
It is best not to become a doctor for the right reasons than to become one for all the wrong ones.
I’m sure your father knew this and was not disappointed.
You have written the whole anecdote in such a beautiful rhythm. I can understand your feelings and I must say he will be also happy somewhere around you. My parents also wished me to be a doctor but i did not prefer it. Anyways, it is a long story but being a teacher you are also doing a great job with passion and interest and you must be doing it well.
Thanks, Ivan!!!It’s been my pleasure to teach you !
I´m absolutely agree with Maria Jesus´post.I understand your feelings because I lost my father when I was twelve, and is a hard situation but we must go on (like the show).
It is better to be a great teacher than be a bad doctor,I mean that I think you don´t like blood, scalpels and things like these.I´m so glad that your choice were, to be a teacher.
I hope to meet you in another couse.
Thanks a lot for your words
Hi, Cristina.
What a beautiful post you have written! It’s so moving!
Unfortunately, I also know what losing a parent feels like, how hard it is.
Although you didn’t choose to become a doctor yourself, I’m sure that, wherever he is now, your father will be proud of you. You’re doing great work in your job as a teacher, and this excellent blog is a good proof. I’m sure your students are delighted with it.