How Having a Son Made Me a Better Doctor

I control the agenda of my life. But that idea is falling apart. Let me explain.

I woke up Saturday morning tired but looking forward several to events. My alma matter had put together a special church service for it’s Alumni. We were up by 8:30am for the 10:30am service. Plenty of time to prepare. My wife put on her black and white dress; I put on my suit with subtle stripes and a tie with a crisscross pattern perhaps making the outfit too dizzy. For Joshua we had him in a white outfit with matching hat, socks and bib (he drools a lot).

Throughout the night I had awakened to his cries. I would unclasp the snaps of his outer layer at the bottom of the outfit. Then unclasp the snaps for the inner layer. I would then take the edge of the diaper around his leg and pull it down checking for poop. He had one or two wet diapers but never soiled throughout the night.

At some point my son would have to unload and of course he would find an opportune time to do so – in the morning, after we have dressed him in his finest.

Joshua let out a sound – louder than one would expect for such a little guy – letting us know he had a bowel movement. And it wasn’t a small one either. In fact, his bowel movement had exceeded the capacity of the diaper by a factor of two. It leaked out the back staining both the inner and outer layer of clothing. It looked as if his previously all white outfit would never recover.

My wife and I let out an exasperated, “Joshua?!” We would act upset one moment and then laugh the next – it was hard to stay angry at the little guy.

It’s so bad we had to bathe him that morning just to get him clean. Since Joshua hates bathes he squirms and screams. As I transfer him to the changing table it feels like holding on to a slippery fish out of water. We put him in a gray onesie with a Dalmatian pattern. It doesn’t look as good as the other outfit but at least it covers the pertinent areas.

We think we’re ready to go but Joshua disagrees. He produces his second bowel movement. But like a sequel to a movie it doesn’t have quite the same impact as the first. This one is contained and we don’t have to bath him. A simple diaper change will do.

Now I’m itching to go. I notice that the service has already started, it’s past 10:30am now. I’m late but perhaps I can still catch the majority of the program. Or so I think.

At that point Joshua begins to cry. It’s one of his “feed me” cries. I stare at my wife giving her a Are-You-Serious look. She laughs seeing how my son has once again thwarted my efforts to leave. After breasting him for several minutes Joshua is content. We are finally ready to go

After driving to the service, discovering difficult-to-find parking football fields away, finding a vacant seat, we finally get to enjoy the service.

For about 5 minutes.

The Pastor wraps up his sermon, prays, and it’s over. I had traveled all the way from Idaho to hear a blessing specifically targeted towards alumni. And all I got was 5 minutes.

Not Achieving Mastery

At the time of this writing I was 4 months into it. Four months into changing diapers, making bottled formula, constantly handling a fussy baby, disrupted sleep at night and I still had not found a flow. I hadn’t achieved mastery. More to the point, I hadn’t accepted the disruption this little one had caused me.

It was vacation and I was busy trying to pack my day with as many activities as possible only to be left frustrated. It was my sister in-law – mother of 3 under the age of 5 – who gave me words of wisdom, “You’re still trying to live as if you don’t have kids. You get to pick one activity per day. One activity.”

But that’s not me. I want to do 9 or 10 activities, maximizing each hour, each minute of the day. So I’m coming to an important conclusion here: I don’t control the agenda of my life. Overall this is a good thing. It means I get to be less self-centered, less selfish.

This has helped me see the limited control I have over my own patients. I’m so invested in them I can become frustrated when the outcome isn’t to my liking. So I get to be long suffering with my patients. The advice I give them will not be heeded on multiple occasions. But that doesn’t have to be a hit to the ego.

I don’t have to have total control over the agenda. And that’s okay.