Medical education involves a certain amount of "deconditioning." That process, formal or informal, amounts to removing the protective, natural barrier of innocence, inexperience, and naivety before it gets in the way of patient care. This has a threshold effect. For instance, if you just can't get over broken bones and bleeding, maybe orthopedic surgery should not be part of your future. The first two years of medical school are spent in books, classrooms, and labs. For the last two years, students are in clinics and hospitals -- experiencing living patients. Most medical students gradually become deconditioned -- some end up jaded, losing perspective and respect for their patients and themselves. The great ones become physicians with a lifelong passion for the privilege of practicing medicine and caring for their patients.
My father practiced medicine with his identical twin brother for the better part of 50 years. These physicians delivered over ten thousand babies and still called the childbearing process, "the miracle of birth." Imagine that, between them, they had over a century of experience delivering babies and they still reverently viewed the birth of every child as a miracle. No wonder so many people still tell me that my father delivered them. Watching these two men, up close and personal, gave me examples worthy of emulation, and set my course
When I left Rigby, my pool of admirers diluted proportionally to the distance I traveled away from home. You may recall that I have written about this before, "Until I left Rigby, I thought everyone loved me." While I was attending medical school in Washington, D.C. for four years, I might as well have been invisible. Even at church, I was only recognized when I was with MK. Still, I was not known by name -- "Oh, you're...aaa..you're...MK's husband!" Unless you were a church leader, senator, or general, you had no special status at church. Don’t be confused, these were wonderful people, I was just under their radar. My circle was pretty much closed and only included others like me who were sacrificing their lives on the altar of medicine for a few years. Otherwise, adrift in this sea of anonymity, I discovered that people may not know who you are, but they treated you better if you smiled, wore a tie, and shined your shoes.
My parents traveled from Idaho to Washington, D.C., when I was a senior medical student. The evening of their arrival, we attended a temple session at the new Washington, D.C. Temple. As we walked into the temple, the man at the reception desk called out when he saw my father, “Why Dr. Asael, what are you doing here?” Dad recognized him and they visited for a moment. After checking my temple recommend, the man quietly said, “Your father delivered me.” I looked at him and smiled, "Me too." He was actually from Rigby and was serving a mission at the Washington D.C. Temple. So, it was not surprising that he would recognize his friend and hometown doctor, even 2000 miles from their hometown. Dad wasn't surprised and almost expected to find a friend wherever he went. I just found it surprising that he would be recognized after being there for only a few hours. After all, I had lived there for four years and was never recognized outside of church and school.
After 15 years, I returned to Idaho, where I became visible again. People would often say, "You're Roger. Your father delivered me!" This happens to my siblings and cousins and my children and their spouses, who have the same experience -- from here to Texas. The fact that these men are still revered even though they have been gone for over 20 years and stopped delivering babies over 40 years ago says something about the positive impact they had on their patients.
The greatest miracle of birth did not involve caring physicians or anything resembling modern medical care. Scriptures even describe a lack of hospitality for Joseph and Mary who were left alone with a bunch of farm animals and lots of straw and quiet solitude. It was not recognized at that time that this was the birth of the Messiah, the author of the law and Savior of the world. That humble birth was attended by heavenly hosts, and it ushered in the three most significant decades in the history of mankind. 2022 years later we still gratefully celebrate the significance of that event. I cannot help thinking that two small-town doctors from Rigby understood and revered the miraculous significance of the birth of the Christ child. I was present to witness them joyfully celebrating Christmas for many years. They never lost track of what they were about as they considered it a privilege to be present when so many of us entered this world -- reverently witnessing, again and again, the miracle of birth.
Ever vigilant,
RT
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