Alef: The NEXT Conversation

The Career Choice

by Gabriella Reubins

Sometimes it’s nervous laughter, other times it’s an eyebrow raise along with “oh really?” or just a simple “huh.” It depends on who I’m talking to. Whatever the situation, when I tell people that I’m the only child of two psychiatrists, it elicits a response. It subtly says “yes, both my parents are physicians” and “yes, they are intellectuals” and “yes, I am their only child so you can imagine the pressure they put on me.”

Yet, growing up in their household there were never insurmountable requests, just one simple career expectation. I was never threatened, no H-bombs were dropped (“you better go to Harvard or else”), nor was anything taken away from me if I didn’t get all A’s, which I did anyway (getting good grades was a given for me). My mother neatly summarized this expectation when I told her that I was thinking of pursuing a career in a creative field. I was in college, tormented by my undetermined future and abysmal science grades, when she said, “Well, you can do whatever you want…after you graduate from medical school.” It may have been a joke but in my vulnerable state, so willing to hold on to any strong recommendation, I took it as doctrine.

My parents made it clear to me that study and knowledge are inherently Jewish values. As the people of the book, learning is a fundamental part of what we do. We read, we argue, we read some more, and so on. It comes as no surprise that so much emphasis was put on the particulars of my education. When I was very young my father told me that the Nazis raped us of our possessions but they could never steal our intellect. Being a learned person is something no one can take away.

So my mother’s wish that I become a physician didn’t come as a surprise. All my life it was expected that I’d become a doctor even while my time outside of school was spent on artsy pursuits.

I took up oil painting.

“Oh, my little painter, you are very visual. How about dermatology or ophthalmology?” my mother suggested.

Late nights, after I was finished with my homework, I would sew or make jewelry.

“You love to work with your hands. You know hand surgery is a great field,” my dad told me.

In secret I would write poems and during the day I wrote for the high school newspaper.

“There are plenty of physician writers! Look at Chekov.”

My creative interests were always linked to a medical subspecialty (and surprisingly, a subspecialty that made good money). Since I had a perceptive eye, enjoyed writing and manual tasks, a career in medicine would allow me to employ all these aspects of myself. I mean, what else would a smart Jewish girl like me do? Really? Sure, painting was fun but were they really going to pay for the Rhode Island School of Design? I didn’t think so.

After a liberal arts degree, acquisition of three languages, a couple more fine arts class, and two years of advance biology, I finally did make it to medical school. A good one at that. And I’m graduating this May. My parents are so proud (I didn’t make AOA, but they’ll live). I’m pretty damn proud of myself as well. Medicine is a wonderful career choice. The volume of what I know and what I know I don’t know overwhelms me with awe. Perhaps it sounds cheesy, but it’s incredibly fulfilling taking care of people, to learn their ins and outs, what’s going on under the surface and how to make it all better. I love all that. At the same time, I’ve been plagued by this gnawing feeling that I still need to express myself creatively. With residency starting in a few months I’m petrified that I might not have the time or energy to nurture my creative spark. I’m waiting for time to unfold what I ultimately need to do and how I need to go about doing it. For now, I’m happy to be a tangential member of the physician writers community and sometimes I even peek at the Iowa Writers Workshop website, you know, for kicks.

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Read more posts from Issue #10: “Geniushood.”

Photo by DeaPeaJay, licensed under Creative Commons.

Tags: College, Doctor, intelligence, jew, jewish, med school

Posted by Emily.Comisar@birthrightisraelnext.org, Monday, March 22nd, 2010, 11:52 am, "Geniushood".