Playing Doctor

I was never too fond of the classic childhood toys. Quite frankly, beautiful dolls and shiny cars never appealed to me as being anything more than hunks of plastic stacked on a Toys-R-Us shelf. Based on what my parents have told me, it wasn’t until I was about three or so that when visiting my Nana in Arizona, I received a gift that I’d come to consider especially inspiring and significant in helping me discover a passion that I am still pursuing today. A wide variety of mock instruments like a stethoscope, scalpel, plexor, stapler, and much more were bundled in a large, clear doctor’s tote. Curious and bright eyed, I tore into that bag like candy. I was in awe of what all I could seemingly do with a few pieces of equipment in my hands and the right mindset. My play medical kit, which today I happen to have resting behind a wood bureau in the corner of my room, became my pride and joy.

I can vividly remember “doctor” being my favorite childhood game. My parents, being as cooperative as they were, were my most frequent patients. Conveniently, my mother had a nursing degree and would pause a game here and there to give me some useful insight on how to proceed with a given case and the implications of such. Having a new subject – really just persona of my parents – coming into my hospital put me on a high of excitement. The state of their illness or condition would vary with each game. Ranging anywhere from a cold, to a broken leg, to neuroblastoma, I was never bored doing my best and being creative with how to cure my patients so I could send them back on their way. To spice things up even more, the environment would often times vary too. Some cases took place in the hospital, the OR, or perhaps even the city sidewalk. (All of which were, in reality, nothing more than my living room couch and hardwood floor.) No matter, in each situation I assured my patient that they were in great hands and that I had seen cases like the one in front of me a million times. Sure, it was a bit of a white lie, but instinctually, I wanted each patient to feel as though they were getting the best care possible. And, for the sake of the game, it didn’t matter what I was dealing with; I was most concerned about being creative and letting myself become completely consumed in the idea of helping someone. I played endlessly and refused to let that little kit slip from my sight. Mind you, I can recall being five or six years old at the time and spending far more time learning the toddler version ropes of being a doctor rather than wrapping my mind around the idea of multiplication and division.

Looking back, it was my superhero cape. Though I was too young to acknowledge it, in the midst of these games I was, though in a very simplistic sense, learning what I could comprehend at the time about disease, working with instruments, and being a physician. Even though the game built around mine and my “patients” pure imagination, for me, it wasn’t all pretend. I realized from a young age that I could make a real, personal difference in the lives of people that were seeking medical attention. The prospect of being something greater than a small-town girl from central Illinois was immensely powerful and inspiring. That little doctor’s kit helped me to discover what meaning my life and passions could have in this world. Needless to say, I’ve wanted to be a doctor ever since.  

Let’s face it, I still play doctor.