I am a medical doctor


Last year I wrote a story about my struggle to become a doctor, about identity. Reading this again I see how I have grown in my profession. Still, I like to share it with you, because of the search. I still wonder how other women take their place in society, in what they are doing. How they work out to become a woman of valor.

I am a medical doctor. And I’ve got to repeat that over and over again to the people I work with mostly: demented people. Many of my patients have no clue where they are, leave alone that they understand why a doctor is suddenly with them. Are they ill? So I say ”good afternoon, miss Smith, I’m the doctor. The nurse is telling me you feel sick.” Last Wednesday a patient answered “is it? Well, then I’ll probably be the patient”. Thank you nurse Others just can’t imagine that such a young woman like me is the doctor. They keep on calling me “nurse” on entering in. “I am the doctor” is my reply, which makes most of them saying sorry. But after finishing the consult they tell me again, “Thank you, nurse.”

I’m the doctor
To be seen as a doctor, I put on a white coat. That isn’t necessary in the nursing home where I work. It even contrasts with the homey feeling the organization wants the patients to have. Still I choose to wear my white coat in order to confirm my identity. I am a doctor! But this is not enough. I also have to behave as a doctor. Finishing medical school one-and-a-halve year ago and having starting to work I thought I just could be myself; a positive woman and with knowledge of medicine. But patients and their families appear not to be interested in me. They want a doctor. And that means it’s not enough run white-coat-dressed through the corridors of our nursing home. Every now and then I have to stop what I was doing in order to encourage a sad spouse. Or warn a patient to change his behavior. And that troubles me sometimes. Especially in the beginning I wondered which right I had to act like this. Who am I and what is my identity. The answer seems not to be: Jedidja. No, I’m the doctor.

Learning to find my identity
Recently a visitor of my congregation asked me whether I was not too dependent on my status as a doctor. Good question and a confusing one. First I had to learn to be the doctor. Would I have to learn now not to be the doctor? Could it be so that I have to learn to find my identity in Yeshua and at the same time fulfill my task as a doctor? A child of Adonai wearing a white coat, that’s it.