Two years ago, when I was accepted at one of the most prestigious medical schools in Indonesia, I thought that to be a doctor was remarkably cool.
I could almost picture myself in a super-clean white jacket, smiling gracefully at a patient who had waited long to have a consultation with me.
Then, for the sake of not leaving the other patients waiting too long, I would send him away with a prescription and, of course, there would be a good sum of money in my pocket.
Next patient please!
Haha! Have I already mentioned the thrilling sensation when everybody looks at you respectfully while using the honorific ""doctor"" to address you? Undoubtedly awesome!
Anyway, back then I was so naive. The more I see of this business, the more I know that having ""doctor"" as your title is not as heavenly as it might have seemed.
The term ""malpractice"" is so frequently heard nowadays. People are becoming more aware about health issues and are insisting on getting top-quality service.
When health workers are incapable of meeting such demands, patients will not hesitate to caution them directly in such a way that even super-egoists have a hard landing.
I often underestimate health services in Indonesia. One day, I had the misfortune to host the dengue virus in my body. Before the doctor could confirm what it was I had to take a laboratory examination.
Unfortunately, the lab worker who was responsible for taking my blood sample seemed to be a greenhorn. That is why it was no surprise to me when she failed to locate my vein precisely on several occasions.
I got so irritated that the needle had to make numerous journeys through my flesh: I'm a syringe-loather, by the way.
Thank God the torment was finally over when a senior lab worker took over. At that time, I couldn't help thinking about how dull the junior was.
It never occurred to me that vein puncture is not a piece of cake, until the time for me to do it finally arrived. Puncturing someone is a tough job and it can be million times tougher when you misplace the vein and the patient starts to look daggers at you.
That was just the easy part. There are thousands more gut-challenging tasks in this profession, not to mention heaps of medical books whose contents must be stored in that poor tiny brain of mine.
Someday, after five years of study with all that mega-knowledge inside me, will I be able to step out into the world declaring myself, loudly and proudly, a ""doctor""?
In my opinion, intelligence and skill alone are not sufficient to label someone a ""doctor"". A real doctor needs a special ingredient called compassion. Without compassion to heal someone holistically (physically as well as mentally), all that knowledge will go to waste.
An old lady who is a neighbor once told my mother a story about a visit to an eminent internist in town.
She had back pain that caused her a lot of agony when she awoke in the morning.
After listening to the story, the internist asked the aged woman to lie down in order to carry out a physical examination. She told the doctor about her pain, but the doctor insisted.
Not surprisingly, after the examination, the women had a hard time just to straighten up again.
Moreover, when she walked out of the consultation room the pain was worse.
I'm sure you all know the moral of the story. As for me, I have become more alert about the risks in my chosen profession.
It is much ""easier"" to treat a patient like a damaged machine that needs to be repaired than as a human being with feelings.
My long hours of study have qualified me only to deal with the ""damaged machine"" part; the rest requires a willingness to treat patients as I would wish to be treated.
I adore the superhero image of the medical profession but not the huge responsibility behind it.
At present, I agree with what Spider-Man's uncle once said: ""With great power comes great responsibility.""
-- Maria F. Deslivia
