论文部分内容阅读
Recently， I met with a friend who is both a physician and a mother. She told me she was worried she wasn’t doing a “good enough” job being a parent and was missing out on her children’s lives.
I’ve learned from other physicians that they also believe the demands of their profession will somehow adversely affect their child’s upbringing.
I tell my colleagues not to worry， and that one day their child will thank them for their life as a doctor’s child.
I can say this because I was three when my mother went to medical school.
Growing up as the daughter of a palliative-care physician wasn’t easy： I came to understand that the sound of the hospital pager， day or night， meant my mother’s absence， having to share her with other people， and being exposed to human suffering and death were just part of my life. Nonetheless， being the child of a physician had a positive effect on my life. I learned and experienced many things because my mother became a doctor when she did. Here are four of them.
1） I learned how others experience life. Through my mother’s work I was exposed to a variety of people， lifestyles， cultures and circumstances. I met patients who were dying and in pain， and their families. Many were happy， but some were angry or upset， or suffering from addictions， mental illness， poverty or isolation. I went along on home visits to people who were poor and dying alone.
I learned that these experiences， while sad， are realities for others. That many people don’t live the same secure life I do， and that life， while good， can be hard.
2） I learned that status doesn’t define the person. I was often in situations where I had to interact with other adults—health-care professionals， patients and their families. As a child I hadn’t yet formed socially constructed biases， so I lacked the social inhibitions many adults have. Prominent physicians and CEOs didn’t intimidate me because their status had little or no meaning to me.
I only cared if someone was kind to me， or wanted to be my friend. I saw that good， kind people who contribute to their community come from all walks of life.
3） I learned that gender wasn’t a limit. I met women who held senior professional positions and were also mothers， spouses， members of their community and world travellers. They were strong， confident， intelligent， beautiful， kind women who worked hard for the life they had.
Once I saw a young woman in hospital scrubs who looked like my Barbie doll tearing down the halls of the hospital. When I asked my mother who she was， she told me she was a general surgeon—a very good one. I was impressed. I saw what possibilities existed for me， and that one day I could be like the beautiful surgeon if I was willing to work for it. It gave me the confidence to choose the career I wanted， and as a result I completed a masters degree in bioethics and health law and am pursuing a career as an ethicist. 4） I learned about kindness and generosity. I have been amazed by the level of compassion and humanity that emerges in the most difficult of times. I have seen dying patients hold on to life or endure extraordinary measures because their family was not ready to say goodbye. I’ve seen health-care staff go the extra mile for patients. And I’ve been given gifts by families even as they were losing someone they loved. One particular story comes to mind.
I was seven when my mother was paged in the middle of the night to care for a dying man. My dad was away on business， so my mother brought me with her. When we arrived at the patient’s home， my mother attended to him and the family sat me on the living room couch with a blanket and some Archie comics.
I must have fallen asleep. When I awoke the family was in tears; their loved one had died.
After my mother had completed the death certificate and spoken with the family， she collected me to go home. As she was carrying me out to the car， one of the children who had just lost their father ran up to us with a stack of Archie comics. “These are for your daughter，” she said. “I noticed that she enjoyed reading them. I’d like her to have them.”
If I could have my childhood over again， I wouldn’t change much.
Sure， there were times when I wanted to throw my mother’s pager out the window， or wished that she could have attended school events. But even as a child I knew that what I was sacrificing， and what she was sacrificing， were more than worth it for the life that I got to lead. My mother’s work as a palliative-care physician provided me with experiences that enriched my life， teaching me valuable lessons， skills and the knowledge of profound kindness， compassion and generosity.
So， to anyone who is concerned about balancing a career in medicine with raising children， I offer you my reassurance. While there will be tough times （and there will be！）， one day your child will thank you for the experiences， and the life， they’ve had as a result of your career. I promise.
最近，我跟一位朋友見面聊天，她是一位医生，同时也是一位母亲。她告诉我她担心自己不“胜任”母亲这份工作，也没能参与孩子们的生活。
我听说其他医生也认为他们的职业需求会对他们孩子的成长或多或少带来不好的影响。
我告诉同事们不要担心，他们的孩子会在将来的某一天感激那段作为医生孩子的生活。
我这样说是因为我母亲在医学院上学时，我才三岁。
作为一名临终关怀医生的女儿，成长并不是一件简单的事情：我渐渐明白医院传呼机的声音意味着母亲要离开，不分昼夜，必须跟其他人分享她的关注，被迫面对人类的苦难和死亡，这些都只是我生活的一部分。尽管如此，作为一名医生的孩子，这对我的人生有着积极的影响。由于我的母亲当上了一名医生，我学习并体会到许多事情，以下是其中的四个方面。
（1）我了解到其他人的人生经历。通过我母亲的工作，我接触了很多不同的人、生活方式、文化和境况。我见过垂死并忍受着疼痛的病人以及他们的家人。大多数人是快乐的，但也有些人是恼怒或伤心的，或因毒瘾、精神病、贫穷、孤独而痛苦不堪。我随着母亲到那些贫穷和没人陪伴的病人家里探看。 我知道这些经历虽然伤感却是别人的真实生活。很多人没有像我一样过着安稳的生活，而那样的生活虽好但也许会很艰难。
（2）我明白到地位并不能衡量一个人。我常常要跟其他成年人打交道——医护人员、病人及其家人。我那时还是一个小孩，还没有形成社会上的固有偏见，因此我没有很多成人拥有的社交禁忌。身份顯赫的医生和老总们并不会让我惧怕，因为他们的地位对我来说几乎没有（或完全没有）意义。
我在意的只是这个人是否待我友好，或是否想与我交朋友。我看到的那些友好、善良，并对所在社区有贡献的人来自生活的各个领域。
（3）我懂得性别不是限制。我见过一些女性，她们位居高级的专业职位，同时也是母亲、配偶、社团的成员，还周游列国。她们坚强、自信、聪明、漂亮、善良，为自己的生活努力打拼。
有一次，我看到一位看似我那芭比娃娃一样的年轻女士穿着医护制服在医院里急冲冲穿行。我问妈妈她是谁，她说她是一位很出色的普通外科医生。她给我留下了深刻的印象。我看到自己的可能性，只要我努力，将来有一天我也可以成为那位漂亮的外科医生那样的人。这件事给了我信心去选择自己想要的职业，后来，我完成了生物伦理学和医疗法的硕士学位，现在正争取成为一名伦理学家。
（4）我学会了善良和慷慨。在最困难的时刻呈现出来的同情心和人性的高度让我感到惊讶。我见过垂死的病人在生死边缘挣扎，或忍受着非同寻常的治疗手段，只因为他们的家人还不想说永别。我见过医疗人员为病人付出额外的努力。还有些病人亲属给我礼物，尽管他们失去了深爱的人。其中一件事涌上心头。
在我七岁的某一天，母亲在半夜被传唤去照顾一位垂死的病人。我父亲出差在外，于是母亲把我带上。我们到达病人家里后，我母亲照顾病人，他的家人让我坐在客厅的沙发上，帮我盖上毯子，给我看些《阿奇》漫画。
我后来肯定是睡着了，我醒来时那家人在哭泣——他们挚爱的亲人去世了。
我妈妈开完了死亡证书，跟他们说完话后就领着我回家了。她把我带到车边时，其中一个刚刚失去父亲的小孩拿着一叠《阿奇》漫画书向我们跑来。“这是给你女儿的，”她说，“我看她很喜欢看。我想把这些送给她。”
如果我可以让童年重来，我不想有太多的改变。
当然，有时候我真想把妈妈的传呼机扔出窗外，或希望她能出席学校活动。但虽然我只是个小孩，我明白我们所作的牺牲对于我以后的生活来说是值得的。我母亲的工作——临终关怀医生，给了我丰富人生的经历，教给我关于善良、同情心和慷慨的宝贵经验、技巧和知识。
所以，我可以给那些想着如何平衡医学工作和养育孩子的人一些安慰。将来遇到困难时（这是肯定的！），你的孩子终有一天会感激你给了他们这样的经历和生活——你的职业带来的结果。我保证。
I’ve learned from other physicians that they also believe the demands of their profession will somehow adversely affect their child’s upbringing.
I tell my colleagues not to worry， and that one day their child will thank them for their life as a doctor’s child.
I can say this because I was three when my mother went to medical school.
Growing up as the daughter of a palliative-care physician wasn’t easy： I came to understand that the sound of the hospital pager， day or night， meant my mother’s absence， having to share her with other people， and being exposed to human suffering and death were just part of my life. Nonetheless， being the child of a physician had a positive effect on my life. I learned and experienced many things because my mother became a doctor when she did. Here are four of them.
1） I learned how others experience life. Through my mother’s work I was exposed to a variety of people， lifestyles， cultures and circumstances. I met patients who were dying and in pain， and their families. Many were happy， but some were angry or upset， or suffering from addictions， mental illness， poverty or isolation. I went along on home visits to people who were poor and dying alone.
I learned that these experiences， while sad， are realities for others. That many people don’t live the same secure life I do， and that life， while good， can be hard.
2） I learned that status doesn’t define the person. I was often in situations where I had to interact with other adults—health-care professionals， patients and their families. As a child I hadn’t yet formed socially constructed biases， so I lacked the social inhibitions many adults have. Prominent physicians and CEOs didn’t intimidate me because their status had little or no meaning to me.
I only cared if someone was kind to me， or wanted to be my friend. I saw that good， kind people who contribute to their community come from all walks of life.
3） I learned that gender wasn’t a limit. I met women who held senior professional positions and were also mothers， spouses， members of their community and world travellers. They were strong， confident， intelligent， beautiful， kind women who worked hard for the life they had.
Once I saw a young woman in hospital scrubs who looked like my Barbie doll tearing down the halls of the hospital. When I asked my mother who she was， she told me she was a general surgeon—a very good one. I was impressed. I saw what possibilities existed for me， and that one day I could be like the beautiful surgeon if I was willing to work for it. It gave me the confidence to choose the career I wanted， and as a result I completed a masters degree in bioethics and health law and am pursuing a career as an ethicist. 4） I learned about kindness and generosity. I have been amazed by the level of compassion and humanity that emerges in the most difficult of times. I have seen dying patients hold on to life or endure extraordinary measures because their family was not ready to say goodbye. I’ve seen health-care staff go the extra mile for patients. And I’ve been given gifts by families even as they were losing someone they loved. One particular story comes to mind.
I was seven when my mother was paged in the middle of the night to care for a dying man. My dad was away on business， so my mother brought me with her. When we arrived at the patient’s home， my mother attended to him and the family sat me on the living room couch with a blanket and some Archie comics.
I must have fallen asleep. When I awoke the family was in tears; their loved one had died.
After my mother had completed the death certificate and spoken with the family， she collected me to go home. As she was carrying me out to the car， one of the children who had just lost their father ran up to us with a stack of Archie comics. “These are for your daughter，” she said. “I noticed that she enjoyed reading them. I’d like her to have them.”
If I could have my childhood over again， I wouldn’t change much.
Sure， there were times when I wanted to throw my mother’s pager out the window， or wished that she could have attended school events. But even as a child I knew that what I was sacrificing， and what she was sacrificing， were more than worth it for the life that I got to lead. My mother’s work as a palliative-care physician provided me with experiences that enriched my life， teaching me valuable lessons， skills and the knowledge of profound kindness， compassion and generosity.
So， to anyone who is concerned about balancing a career in medicine with raising children， I offer you my reassurance. While there will be tough times （and there will be！）， one day your child will thank you for the experiences， and the life， they’ve had as a result of your career. I promise.
最近，我跟一位朋友見面聊天，她是一位医生，同时也是一位母亲。她告诉我她担心自己不“胜任”母亲这份工作，也没能参与孩子们的生活。
我听说其他医生也认为他们的职业需求会对他们孩子的成长或多或少带来不好的影响。
我告诉同事们不要担心，他们的孩子会在将来的某一天感激那段作为医生孩子的生活。
我这样说是因为我母亲在医学院上学时，我才三岁。
作为一名临终关怀医生的女儿，成长并不是一件简单的事情：我渐渐明白医院传呼机的声音意味着母亲要离开，不分昼夜，必须跟其他人分享她的关注，被迫面对人类的苦难和死亡，这些都只是我生活的一部分。尽管如此，作为一名医生的孩子，这对我的人生有着积极的影响。由于我的母亲当上了一名医生，我学习并体会到许多事情，以下是其中的四个方面。
（1）我了解到其他人的人生经历。通过我母亲的工作，我接触了很多不同的人、生活方式、文化和境况。我见过垂死并忍受着疼痛的病人以及他们的家人。大多数人是快乐的，但也有些人是恼怒或伤心的，或因毒瘾、精神病、贫穷、孤独而痛苦不堪。我随着母亲到那些贫穷和没人陪伴的病人家里探看。 我知道这些经历虽然伤感却是别人的真实生活。很多人没有像我一样过着安稳的生活，而那样的生活虽好但也许会很艰难。
（2）我明白到地位并不能衡量一个人。我常常要跟其他成年人打交道——医护人员、病人及其家人。我那时还是一个小孩，还没有形成社会上的固有偏见，因此我没有很多成人拥有的社交禁忌。身份顯赫的医生和老总们并不会让我惧怕，因为他们的地位对我来说几乎没有（或完全没有）意义。
我在意的只是这个人是否待我友好，或是否想与我交朋友。我看到的那些友好、善良，并对所在社区有贡献的人来自生活的各个领域。
（3）我懂得性别不是限制。我见过一些女性，她们位居高级的专业职位，同时也是母亲、配偶、社团的成员，还周游列国。她们坚强、自信、聪明、漂亮、善良，为自己的生活努力打拼。
有一次，我看到一位看似我那芭比娃娃一样的年轻女士穿着医护制服在医院里急冲冲穿行。我问妈妈她是谁，她说她是一位很出色的普通外科医生。她给我留下了深刻的印象。我看到自己的可能性，只要我努力，将来有一天我也可以成为那位漂亮的外科医生那样的人。这件事给了我信心去选择自己想要的职业，后来，我完成了生物伦理学和医疗法的硕士学位，现在正争取成为一名伦理学家。
（4）我学会了善良和慷慨。在最困难的时刻呈现出来的同情心和人性的高度让我感到惊讶。我见过垂死的病人在生死边缘挣扎，或忍受着非同寻常的治疗手段，只因为他们的家人还不想说永别。我见过医疗人员为病人付出额外的努力。还有些病人亲属给我礼物，尽管他们失去了深爱的人。其中一件事涌上心头。
在我七岁的某一天，母亲在半夜被传唤去照顾一位垂死的病人。我父亲出差在外，于是母亲把我带上。我们到达病人家里后，我母亲照顾病人，他的家人让我坐在客厅的沙发上，帮我盖上毯子，给我看些《阿奇》漫画。
我后来肯定是睡着了，我醒来时那家人在哭泣——他们挚爱的亲人去世了。
我妈妈开完了死亡证书，跟他们说完话后就领着我回家了。她把我带到车边时，其中一个刚刚失去父亲的小孩拿着一叠《阿奇》漫画书向我们跑来。“这是给你女儿的，”她说，“我看她很喜欢看。我想把这些送给她。”
如果我可以让童年重来，我不想有太多的改变。
当然，有时候我真想把妈妈的传呼机扔出窗外，或希望她能出席学校活动。但虽然我只是个小孩，我明白我们所作的牺牲对于我以后的生活来说是值得的。我母亲的工作——临终关怀医生，给了我丰富人生的经历，教给我关于善良、同情心和慷慨的宝贵经验、技巧和知识。
所以，我可以给那些想着如何平衡医学工作和养育孩子的人一些安慰。将来遇到困难时（这是肯定的！），你的孩子终有一天会感激你给了他们这样的经历和生活——你的职业带来的结果。我保证。