SMD's a cappella group On Call recognized nationally; Message for the holidays--the medical profession as a privilege

Dr. David Guzick, M.D., Ph.D.

Dr. David Guzick, M.D., Ph.D.

December 21, 2007

On Call finalists in national CBS a cappella competition

Many of you are aware of the musical talents of many of our medical students.  But did you know that they have formed an a cappella group called On Call that was among 5 finalists in the CBS Early Show's a cappella singing competition? 

On Call sings at a variety of medical center functions and also sings at nursing homes and the Golisano Children's Hospital during the holidays.  A couple of months ago, one of the members of On Call, Mike Moravan, read about the CBS contest in an a cappella newsletter and the group decided that it would be a fun project. Unfortunately, they only allowed 3-6 group members, so they had to choose 6 members who had previous a cappella experience:  Julie Allen, Elizabeth Crafts, Erika Levy, Michael Moravan, Erin Reeve and Jonathan Smith.  They chose a song that they sang last year, "Life is a Highway," which Erika arranged, but to make it more interesting they changed the words to satirize life as a medical student.  (Lyrics by Jon and Erika). The setting was a PBL room with the singers in scrubs.  Check out the video.  It's way cool.

They forgot about the contest until Erika received a call last Thursday informing her that On Call was selected as one of the top 5 finalists in this nationwide competition! The other finalists included 3 professional male groups, one of whom won.

It's truly amazing what our medical students accomplish in their "spare" time!  Congratulations to On Call!

Message for the holidays:  The medical profession as a privilege

Virtually all of our positions at the medical center are stressful.  For many, the holiday season itself adds its own special stress.  My suggestion is this: give yourself the gift of reflection during this holiday season.  Embrace this time as a gift.  Reflect on the meaning of the season in the broader context of your personal and professional life.

For me, the gift of reflection has led me to think about the privilege of being a physician—perhaps a well-worn topic, but one that bears reconsideration.  There is certainly much that is stressful in our day-to-day professional lives—I needn't repeat the litany related to inadequate clinical and research funding, increasingly oppressive regulatory oversight, loss of autonomy, etc—but fundamentally, the extraordinary privilege of being a physician remains, and deserves periodic reflection.

[Note: I am focusing this newsletter on the physician role.  The next issue will be on the privilege of being a scientist and/or educator.  See last paragraph]

What drives us to enter the medical profession?  I think Nora Watson gets it right when she talks about the general inspiration for one's work.  As quoted in Studs Terkel's book "Working," Watson says: "I think most of us are looking for a calling, not a job.  Most of us…have jobs that are too small for our spirit." 

Indeed, when we recite the Hippocratic Oath at the time our medical degrees are awarded, we acknowledge our calling, "I place myself into the service of humankind."  It is interesting that when the Chicago radio commentator Studs Terkel wrote his classic oral history of working life in the 1970's, he did not write specifically about physicians.  In response to a later inquiry about this, he said:  "Physicians don't work for daily bread but for daily meaning."  Certainly, the business of medicine may sometimes twist this fundamental work-for-meaning instinct.  Fundamentally, however, the decision to enter the medical profession is a response to a calling, the need to live lives of daily meaning.

How do physicians respond to this calling?  One expression is our commitment to engage in the demanding and extended education needed for the diagnosis and treatment of disease.  Our student speaker at this year's White Coat Ceremony, Alexis Motl, M.D. '07, expressed this as the privilege of learning the secrets of medical knowledge:   

"I was grocery shopping recently, and I saw a woman, about 40 years old, pushing her cart down the aisle.  Every few seconds her arms would fly out and move around without her control.  She tried to hide it, to make it look like she was fixing her hair or reaching for something and then changing her mind.  But I knew that it was most likely chorea – a dance-like movement sometimes associated with Huntington's disease.  It was painful knowing this, like having a bad secret that no one else in the store, giving her sideward glances, knew, but it was also extraordinary.  

"When I was a kid, I loved the idea of knowing a secret.  I loved magic decoder rings, and Pig Latin, and invisible ink.  And that's what medical school is like.  You start to see all the clues coming together.  You start to see things that others do not.  And you realize that everything you've learned so far, everything you've forgotten, all that studying, it's all worth the trouble.  Because it is a privilege."

Interestingly, at the same White Coat Ceremony, and quite independently, our faculty speaker, Barbara Asselin, M.D., spoke of the same kind of secret, but more broadly:  She asked the students to let her share advice from the wise old fox in the book, The Little Prince: "And now here is my secret, it is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.  It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.  You become responsible forever, for what you have tamed.  You are responsible for your rose."

Dr. Asselin then asked the students to imagine the passage reworded with the words "white coat" replacing "rose."  The reworded message is that the secrets of the white coat are invisible to the eye. "The white coat," Dr. Asselin continued, "is a symbol of the privilege of being a physician.  Wearing your white coat will open the lives of your patients.  They will share things with you and trust in you, solely because of that white coat."

Thus, besides medical knowledge and skill, which also entails a good measure of scientific inquisitiveness, the calling of medicine entails the privilege of caring for others.  As Frances Peabody stated in an oft-cited speech to Harvard medical students in 1925: "The secret of the care of the patient is caring for the patient" (Oglesby P. The Caring Physician…, 1991).  Caring for the patient frequently means being given their permission to invade their privacy, both physically and emotionally.  Meeting a patient for the first time, we do physical exams and obtain medical histories which explore topics that would otherwise be considered highly intimate and confidential.  We may subsequently do highly invasive surgical procedures—another rarefied privilege born of extraordinary trust.  Yet these must be sequestered in our experience as clinical tasks, untinged by voyeurism or self-congratulation.  We are called to help at critical junctures, at the beginning of life and at the end, and at key moments along the way. 

So at this special time of year, give yourself the gift of reflection.  Think about the privilege that you have been given to do your work. 

I will devote the next issue to the privilege of being a scientist and/or educator, in the voices of those who are contributing in those roles.  Therefore, I encourage investigators and educators who wish to write a sentence or a paragraph on the privileges of working in your field to send me your thoughts.  I am confident that the next issue will be brimming with insight.

Meliora,

David S. Guzick, MD, PhD
Dean, School of Medicine and Dentistry
University of Rochester

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