Opinion
VIEWPOINT
Julie A. Freischlag, MD Division of Vascular and Endovascular Surgery, Johns Hopkins Medical Institutions, Baltimore, Maryland, and Editor, JAMA Surgery.
Corresponding Author: Julie A. Freischlag, MD, Department of Surgery, Johns Hopkins Hospital, 720 Rutland Ave, Ross 759, Baltimore, MD 21205 ([email protected]).
Wearing Different Hats One never knows what effect we have on our children. We try to set a good example as professionals and responsible citizens. We try to be there as much as possible despite our busy schedules and, frequently, we succeed.1-3 I was always worried that my son, Taylor, would feel that he was odd—that other mothers would be around and I would not. Most times he seemed okay— however, I worried a lot. When he was in first grade, he did tell me one evening when I tucked him into bed that he was not getting “enough care.” I was devastated but continued to ask a few more questions, and it turned out that all the other mothers had brought in snacks and I had not. Therefore, care in this instance equated to snacks and I could fix that. MyhusbandandIenjoyedhischildhoodandhisschool activities as he grew up. In high school, we loved going to his football, basketball, and lacrosse games. We watched with pride as he went to dances and parties and even hosted a few crazy parties at our home. The summer before his senior year, he was busy getting his college application together. We used a tutor to help him study for the entrance examinations and also to help him with his personal statement. When it was completed, he gave it to me to read and I cried. I still cry when I read it. My assistant, Marge, framed it for me along with his senior picture and it hangs above my jewelry table so I can see it every day. He gave me permission to publish it, so here it is. I hope that this will help you to stop worrying about the effects that being a surgeon has on your children. Let them see what you do and, in turn, they will show you what they do. The letter from Taylor reads: “There were many signs that my mother had a very important and high-pressure job, but as a young child, I was fairly oblivious to them. I knew I had been uprooted as a 7 year old from my home in Los Angeles to move to Baltimore so she could work at Johns Hopkins Hospital. I was aware that many of the various trips we took around the world involved medical conventions and I even knew that the world-renowned doctors and dignitaries who enjoyed meals in our home were not your average dinner guests. Yet to me, she was just a mom. Each night, as I would hear the garage door open, I would run to help her carry her work bags into the house and tell her about my day as my dad and her prepared dinner. I didn’t notice that she cut red peppers with the pre-
ARTICLE INFORMATION
cision of a surgeon. It never seemed like both her mind and body had been taxed by a difficult day in the operating room. She, like other moms I knew, cheered excitedly from the stands of my games, regardless of whether it was a rec league basketball game or a varsity lacrosse championship. In the summer of 2010, that all changed. I was given the opportunity to work with my mother at the hospital. Clearly, I was not going to be operating on any patients, but as the chair of surgery at Johns Hopkins Hospital, she had many tasks with which an able-bodied, inquisitive 15 year old could help. My primary responsibility was to create a database of all her patients from the time she started her specialty in thoracic outlet syndrome. In addition, I helped one of her students write a medical paper, which now bears my name as well as his and my mother’s. I was also able to watch her perform a surgery on a patient not much older than myself, in which she cut an incision in the armpit to make room for her enormous instrument in order to remove the first rib. The surgery was fascinating, but even more so was the fact that she never bragged about it at home, nor did she complain about its exhausting nature. Instead, when she came home, she was able to shut it off and focus on me. She showed me that family was her priority at home and her patients were her priority at work. Though she balanced both beautifully, she never let one suffer for the other. As great as it was to have my name on a medical paper and watch my mother in the operating room, I learned something very valuable from watching my mother as a surgeon. Though her daily work duties were extraordinary, at home she was a mom. And at the hospital, she treated me with the same professional yet demanding manner she did everyone else, and she was the chief of surgery. When I questioned how she managed to wear so many hats at the same time, she told me she only wears one at a time and whichever hat she is wearing at the time, she is entirely dedicated and focused on that task at hand. It wasn’t about multi-tasking because then nothing got her full attention, which is why I never felt secondary to her work or vice versa. In that moment, I realized she’d been teaching me that lesson every day and, in turn, I have started to do the same.” Taylor is a freshman this year in the business school at the University of Maryland in College Park, wearing his many hats.
work-home conflicts and burnout among American surgeons: a comparison by sex. Arch Surg. 2011;146 (2):211-217.
Published Online: May 11, 2014. doi:10.1001/jamasurg.2013.5146. Conflict of Interest Disclosures: None reported. REFERENCES 1. Dyrbye LN, Shanafelt TD, Balch CM, Satele D, Sloan J, Freischlag J. Relationship between
3. Jonasson O. Women as leaders in organized surgery and surgical education: has the time come? Arch Surg. 1993;128(6):618-621.
2. Dyrbye LN, Freischlag J, Kaups KL, et al. Work-home conflicts have a substantial impact on career decisions that affect the adequacy of the surgical workforce. Arch Surg. 2012;147(10):933939.
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JAMA Surgery June 2014 Volume 149, Number 6
Copyright 2014 American Medical Association. All rights reserved.
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VIEWPOINT
Julie A. Freischlag, MD Division of Vascular and Endovascular Surgery, Johns Hopkins Medical Institutions, Baltimore, Maryland, and Editor, JAMA Surgery.
Corresponding Author: Julie A. Freischlag, MD, Department of Surgery, Johns Hopkins Hospital, 720 Rutland Ave, Ross 759, Baltimore, MD 21205 ([email protected]).
Wearing Different Hats One never knows what effect we have on our children. We try to set a good example as professionals and responsible citizens. We try to be there as much as possible despite our busy schedules and, frequently, we succeed.1-3 I was always worried that my son, Taylor, would feel that he was odd—that other mothers would be around and I would not. Most times he seemed okay— however, I worried a lot. When he was in first grade, he did tell me one evening when I tucked him into bed that he was not getting “enough care.” I was devastated but continued to ask a few more questions, and it turned out that all the other mothers had brought in snacks and I had not. Therefore, care in this instance equated to snacks and I could fix that. MyhusbandandIenjoyedhischildhoodandhisschool activities as he grew up. In high school, we loved going to his football, basketball, and lacrosse games. We watched with pride as he went to dances and parties and even hosted a few crazy parties at our home. The summer before his senior year, he was busy getting his college application together. We used a tutor to help him study for the entrance examinations and also to help him with his personal statement. When it was completed, he gave it to me to read and I cried. I still cry when I read it. My assistant, Marge, framed it for me along with his senior picture and it hangs above my jewelry table so I can see it every day. He gave me permission to publish it, so here it is. I hope that this will help you to stop worrying about the effects that being a surgeon has on your children. Let them see what you do and, in turn, they will show you what they do. The letter from Taylor reads: “There were many signs that my mother had a very important and high-pressure job, but as a young child, I was fairly oblivious to them. I knew I had been uprooted as a 7 year old from my home in Los Angeles to move to Baltimore so she could work at Johns Hopkins Hospital. I was aware that many of the various trips we took around the world involved medical conventions and I even knew that the world-renowned doctors and dignitaries who enjoyed meals in our home were not your average dinner guests. Yet to me, she was just a mom. Each night, as I would hear the garage door open, I would run to help her carry her work bags into the house and tell her about my day as my dad and her prepared dinner. I didn’t notice that she cut red peppers with the pre-
ARTICLE INFORMATION
cision of a surgeon. It never seemed like both her mind and body had been taxed by a difficult day in the operating room. She, like other moms I knew, cheered excitedly from the stands of my games, regardless of whether it was a rec league basketball game or a varsity lacrosse championship. In the summer of 2010, that all changed. I was given the opportunity to work with my mother at the hospital. Clearly, I was not going to be operating on any patients, but as the chair of surgery at Johns Hopkins Hospital, she had many tasks with which an able-bodied, inquisitive 15 year old could help. My primary responsibility was to create a database of all her patients from the time she started her specialty in thoracic outlet syndrome. In addition, I helped one of her students write a medical paper, which now bears my name as well as his and my mother’s. I was also able to watch her perform a surgery on a patient not much older than myself, in which she cut an incision in the armpit to make room for her enormous instrument in order to remove the first rib. The surgery was fascinating, but even more so was the fact that she never bragged about it at home, nor did she complain about its exhausting nature. Instead, when she came home, she was able to shut it off and focus on me. She showed me that family was her priority at home and her patients were her priority at work. Though she balanced both beautifully, she never let one suffer for the other. As great as it was to have my name on a medical paper and watch my mother in the operating room, I learned something very valuable from watching my mother as a surgeon. Though her daily work duties were extraordinary, at home she was a mom. And at the hospital, she treated me with the same professional yet demanding manner she did everyone else, and she was the chief of surgery. When I questioned how she managed to wear so many hats at the same time, she told me she only wears one at a time and whichever hat she is wearing at the time, she is entirely dedicated and focused on that task at hand. It wasn’t about multi-tasking because then nothing got her full attention, which is why I never felt secondary to her work or vice versa. In that moment, I realized she’d been teaching me that lesson every day and, in turn, I have started to do the same.” Taylor is a freshman this year in the business school at the University of Maryland in College Park, wearing his many hats.
work-home conflicts and burnout among American surgeons: a comparison by sex. Arch Surg. 2011;146 (2):211-217.
Published Online: May 11, 2014. doi:10.1001/jamasurg.2013.5146. Conflict of Interest Disclosures: None reported. REFERENCES 1. Dyrbye LN, Shanafelt TD, Balch CM, Satele D, Sloan J, Freischlag J. Relationship between
3. Jonasson O. Women as leaders in organized surgery and surgical education: has the time come? Arch Surg. 1993;128(6):618-621.
2. Dyrbye LN, Freischlag J, Kaups KL, et al. Work-home conflicts have a substantial impact on career decisions that affect the adequacy of the surgical workforce. Arch Surg. 2012;147(10):933939.
jamasurgery.com
JAMA Surgery June 2014 Volume 149, Number 6
Copyright 2014 American Medical Association. All rights reserved.
Downloaded From: http://archsurg.jamanetwork.com/ by a University of Texas at Austin User on 06/08/2015
503
