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How often have you read "Neighbor Rosicky" by Willa Cather?
Really? You should. It’ll take maybe an hour, at most. You can likely find it free online.
It was an assignment for a college literature class I took in 1987. A lot of the things we read weren’t particularly memorable, but this one grabbed me. It’s a simple story about life, aging, and family, partially told through the eyes of a young doctor. At the same time it has both very little and a lot to do with being a doctor. It wasn’t my sole inspiration to become one, but it struck a chord that made me feel like it was the right thing for me.
At its heart and soul, it’s why, I believe, many of us become doctors. In the modern era, it’s also likely more fantasy than reality. But the basic theme is there: helping patients who genuinely need you and who appreciate what you do for them, even when the news isn’t good.
I’m sure there are still areas (though not many in the Western world) where medicine is more like the story. Besides, neurology is a pretty tech-dependent field. We couldn’t do our job without advanced imaging, electroencephalography, electromyography and nerve conduction velocity testing, etc.
But we still care for patients. For all the labels that get put on us (practitioners, providers, defendants, etc.) what we do now is still what the shamans did ages ago: try to help sick people with the tools that are available to us. And that, at the center of things, is what being a doctor is about.
It’s an idea that’s easy to lose sight of these days, with the endless forms for medication and test authorizations; news articles about how we’re overpaid, underpaid, inebriated, suicidal, or dangerous; and where there’s an emphasis on patient satisfaction that doesn’t necessarily involve clinical outcomes ("my migraines are better, but I was disappointed I wasn’t offered a beverage while waiting for the doctor").
So, I keep a copy of "Neighbor Rosicky" on my Kindle, and read it when I need to remind myself why I like this job. Sometimes even grateful patients forget to say thank you, and it’s good to remember that we are, for the most part, appreciated.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
How often have you read "Neighbor Rosicky" by Willa Cather?
Really? You should. It’ll take maybe an hour, at most. You can likely find it free online.
It was an assignment for a college literature class I took in 1987. A lot of the things we read weren’t particularly memorable, but this one grabbed me. It’s a simple story about life, aging, and family, partially told through the eyes of a young doctor. At the same time it has both very little and a lot to do with being a doctor. It wasn’t my sole inspiration to become one, but it struck a chord that made me feel like it was the right thing for me.
At its heart and soul, it’s why, I believe, many of us become doctors. In the modern era, it’s also likely more fantasy than reality. But the basic theme is there: helping patients who genuinely need you and who appreciate what you do for them, even when the news isn’t good.
I’m sure there are still areas (though not many in the Western world) where medicine is more like the story. Besides, neurology is a pretty tech-dependent field. We couldn’t do our job without advanced imaging, electroencephalography, electromyography and nerve conduction velocity testing, etc.
But we still care for patients. For all the labels that get put on us (practitioners, providers, defendants, etc.) what we do now is still what the shamans did ages ago: try to help sick people with the tools that are available to us. And that, at the center of things, is what being a doctor is about.
It’s an idea that’s easy to lose sight of these days, with the endless forms for medication and test authorizations; news articles about how we’re overpaid, underpaid, inebriated, suicidal, or dangerous; and where there’s an emphasis on patient satisfaction that doesn’t necessarily involve clinical outcomes ("my migraines are better, but I was disappointed I wasn’t offered a beverage while waiting for the doctor").
So, I keep a copy of "Neighbor Rosicky" on my Kindle, and read it when I need to remind myself why I like this job. Sometimes even grateful patients forget to say thank you, and it’s good to remember that we are, for the most part, appreciated.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
How often have you read "Neighbor Rosicky" by Willa Cather?
Really? You should. It’ll take maybe an hour, at most. You can likely find it free online.
It was an assignment for a college literature class I took in 1987. A lot of the things we read weren’t particularly memorable, but this one grabbed me. It’s a simple story about life, aging, and family, partially told through the eyes of a young doctor. At the same time it has both very little and a lot to do with being a doctor. It wasn’t my sole inspiration to become one, but it struck a chord that made me feel like it was the right thing for me.
At its heart and soul, it’s why, I believe, many of us become doctors. In the modern era, it’s also likely more fantasy than reality. But the basic theme is there: helping patients who genuinely need you and who appreciate what you do for them, even when the news isn’t good.
I’m sure there are still areas (though not many in the Western world) where medicine is more like the story. Besides, neurology is a pretty tech-dependent field. We couldn’t do our job without advanced imaging, electroencephalography, electromyography and nerve conduction velocity testing, etc.
But we still care for patients. For all the labels that get put on us (practitioners, providers, defendants, etc.) what we do now is still what the shamans did ages ago: try to help sick people with the tools that are available to us. And that, at the center of things, is what being a doctor is about.
It’s an idea that’s easy to lose sight of these days, with the endless forms for medication and test authorizations; news articles about how we’re overpaid, underpaid, inebriated, suicidal, or dangerous; and where there’s an emphasis on patient satisfaction that doesn’t necessarily involve clinical outcomes ("my migraines are better, but I was disappointed I wasn’t offered a beverage while waiting for the doctor").
So, I keep a copy of "Neighbor Rosicky" on my Kindle, and read it when I need to remind myself why I like this job. Sometimes even grateful patients forget to say thank you, and it’s good to remember that we are, for the most part, appreciated.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
