On Being

There we sat, the room lined with orange and beige fiberglass chairs, all nervous, making awkward conversation with those sitting next to us. Most people were in suits, of course, I didn’t own a suit and had certainly never worn one in my life. (Not to mention my mother informed me years later that my acne was terrible…) A young, boisterous guy with blond spiky hair across the room wanted to let the whole room know he was different, he had a fine arts degree you know. Sitting next to me, a skinny Asian kid who appeared to be about 13 turned to me and asked me what I was studying and where I was from. I had just flown thousands of miles from Tanzania for this interview, my head was fuzzy and my guts were churning with nausea and apprehension.


Oh, I’m working in Tanzania right now. I live in a village and mostly work with maternal-child nutrition and HIV education programs. How about you?

He paused…

Um…wow…I just finished my second year of biology at U of A…I’m really good at piano though… 

It seemed his slight frame in its stiff black suit sank ever further into his chair. I felt bad, I’m sure he was a good kid and I sometimes wonder what kind of doctor he turned out to be. Presumably he was a brilliant genius and I’m sure he ended up going to medical school somewhere. The large part of the process of becoming a doctor is about portraying yourself in a certain way, focusing on all the ego-boosting accomplishments you have and saving face at all costs.

The entirety of my interview started with: “Well…this one time in my African village…” Afterwards I felt the pangs of regret of having completely blown the only chance I would ever have at becoming a doctor by boring the interviewers to death with African village stories that had nothing to do with real-life. The truth is that having just spent months and months in Tanzania with no running water, no electricity and surrounded by an overwhelming amount of human need that I was powerless to do anything about gives you an incredibly accurate idea of what real-life actually is. I had done a lot of soul-searching and although I had no suit and bad acne, I knew who I was, what my core values were and what I passionately believed in. The process had made me redefine who I was.  Everything that I had used as a crutch to define who I was had been stripped away and I was laid bare (with a lot of time on my hands) to figure out how to start anew.

Now, over ten years later this year spent in Uganda and Ecuador rings with some of the same truths of redefinition. I nostalgically think back on a time when I was self-aware and so deeply convinced of what my role in the world should be, 'doing' medicine can so easily let us forget those aspects of our vocation.  Although my roles are now very different and I feel I have more to offer on many levels it reminds me that all of life is about who you are, not what you do. In Canada, I am defined as a doctor, a baby-catcher, a joker, a runner, a snowboarder, a hiker, a biker, a church-goer, a wife, a friend, a sister, a daughter. While these continue to be true for the most part, this year I am mostly defined as a foreigner, as different than those around me, wherever I am. After a while this can be somewhat un-grounding, yet it provides a unique opportunity to question what about me is ego and pride and what is really who I am and who I strive to be. It is all too easy to define ourselves by all that we do, instead of just being. Needless to say, a shift in mindset that is easier said than done.  Who cares what you do?  Who ARE you?