I entered medical school absolutely certain of one thing: I didn’t want to be a psychiatrist like my father.
I’m sure someone like Freud could come up with a deep therapeutic reason for why I didn’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps. Or, maybe I could ask the surgeon who belittled me as a medical student and asked, “Are you going to go into the same field as your daddy?” as he looked down at me awkwardly holding a retractor during an operation. But all I can come up with is that my dad’s shoes are big, and I was afraid to try to fill them. It felt like a goal I couldn’t achieve or a competition I simply wouldn’t win. And I don’t like losing.
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I entered medical school absolutely certain of one thing: I didn’t want to be a psychiatrist like my father.
I’m sure someone like Freud could come up with a deep therapeutic reason for why I didn’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps. Or, maybe I could ask the surgeon who belittled me as a medical student and asked, “Are you going to go into the same field as your daddy?” as he looked down at me awkwardly holding a retractor during an operation. But all I can come up with is that my dad’s shoes are big, and I was afraid to try to fill them. It felt like a goal I couldn’t achieve or a competition I simply wouldn’t win. And I don’t like losing.
Read the rest…
