As a sequel to my previous post which immediately evoked comments from two of my fellow-doctor-bloggers, I would like to elaborate further on how my being a doctor occasionally usurps the rest of who I am, at least in the eyes of other people.
Occasionally, my friends call me up for medical problems - their own or their family's. Sometimes, after years of absolute loss of contact, some friends just resurface, come to me for some bodily complaint or medical requirement, and then disappear like some evanescent rash afterwards. I never hesitate to help, whenever I can. I do this for them because I have previously sworn the Hippocratic Oath, that "I will treat without exception all who seek my ministrations, so long as the treatment of others is not compromised thereby..." But above all, I do this in the spirit of friendship, of mutual understanding and affection, and of old times shared and better times coming.
I can only wish they understand that.
Sometimes I wonder if my friends will still need me if I'm not a doctor. If not for my capabilities as a physician, will I ever be called on? Will I have something to give? While I know I will never stop taking care of people in my capacity as a physician, I do wish I'd be given a chance to love, and to take care of someone, not only as a doctor, but as a human being as well.