Page 15 - Layout 1

GENERATIONAL
FAMILIAL DOCTORING
By Helen Pankowsky, MD
It is not
unusual to
see that
children
follow in
their par-
ents’ profes-
sion. We see
it with ac-
tors, trades-
men,
politicians,
and doc-
tors. Chil-
dren are,
after all, ex- and do better in my classes. This was our first true bonding over
posed to the
workings of
the family vocation on a routine basis. This did not apply to me.
I am the daughter of a surgeon, yet I never wanted to be a doc-
tor. Even though our daily dinnertime conversation may have in-
cluded an explanation of a jejunal jejunostomy or discussion of
some pathophysiology or scientific topic, I was more interested in
the arts — acting, painting, music, anything that was the arts was
my passion. In college, I majored in art and later added psychol-
ogy, moving away from fine or commercial arts towards art ther-
apy. Close to completing the psychology courses needed for
graduation, I realized that knowing the psyche alone was
not enough, that I wanted to know the entire human being
and I decided to go to medical school.
It seemed strange to anyone who knew me that I would
make this choice. I had never studied the sciences, having ful-
filled my requirements by taking an astronomy course and a
geology course; the two things I did love the most in science
— stars and rocks. But I was convinced that not only did I
want to be a doctor but I needed to be a doctor. So, armed
with my two previous science courses, I set out to fulfill the
pre-med requirements. I was so committed to this that I com-
pleted the pre-med requirements in a year and half, barely an
adequate foundation for medical school. I was fortunate that
The University of Texas Health Science Center at San Anto-
nio at that time was interested in accepting a few medical stu-
dent applicants who had a rich background in the humanities
PERSPECTIVES
and life experiences, of which I had both.
My first year in medical school was a struggle. As I continued
to build on my rudimentary knowledge of biology, chemistry, and
physiology, my classmates, who for the most part had wanted to
be doctors all their lives and studied the sciences, appeared to be
effortlessly soaring through. It was like trying to learn advanced
mathematics just barley having learned to add and subtract.
At times, I doubted my decision. Even an operation that my fa-
ther invited me to scrub in on is memorable for hearing my father’s
voice very calmly saying shortly after the first incision, “someone
please catch my daughter” before I passed out. Convinced this was
yet another sign of my incapability of being a doctor, I nonetheless
continued. When it seemed that I would fail anatomy, I turned to
my father. As embarrassing as it was, I asked for help. His patience
and extraordinary ability to teach helped me to comprehend, learn,
medicine. Over the next two years, almost nightly we worked
steadily together until I got my bearings and began to feel com-
fortable navigating through classes in anatomy, physiology, and
pathophysiology, learning what I needed in order to take on the
mantle of “doctor.”
Once I reached the clinical years I found myself enjoying what
I had learned as I applied it. Never again did I faint in surgery and
even considered it as my specialty; this in spite of the fact that
when I told my resident this, he responded with “women could
not be surgeons.” Although I did not agree, I did not choose sur-
gery. Having been raised in a surgeon’s home, witnessing the ir-
continued on page 16
visit us at www.bcms.org 15