Rupert Howser, MD

Most kids who grew up in the 80's recall the show Doogie Howser, MD. It ran for like 4 yrs and chronicled the residency of a teenage doctor. As a physician myself, I won’t criticize the potential flaws of this scenario actually taking place (not too plausible is all I’ll say), instead I’ll write about what it’s like to be a young doctor now and how that compares to my expectations from the Doogie era of my youth.

To start; medicine is NOT glamorous. Medicine is not driving a Benz, playing golf and having a God complex. Medicine is about blood, shit and vomit. In your head if you imagine your doctor wearing a $300 Italian silk tie and a Rolex, you can bet that image stays in your head. Because no one would wear these items to a hospital and risk getting blood-tinged shit or mucous laden vomit all over his French cuffs. Medicine is very much blue collar. Hell, every boy who’s had a sports physical knows that their doctor literally handles their balls. Maybe it’s just me but I was raised to believe that ball handling isn’t one of the more sophisticated professions.

Next thought is that most people expect their doctors to be very Republican. By this comment I mean old, fat, male and white. Many want John McCain to be their doctor, or at least someone who looks like him. A lot of my female friends have grown accustomed to being called “nurse”, “babe” and “sweetie”. I never dealt with these names myself, but I was asked on at least a daily basis for my age. After the 100th time I began to reply, “How old do you think I am?” Most patients would guess right and say 25-30. Upon learning this some patients would jokingly call me McSteamy or make an ER reference and call me Carter. I guess that should be flattering; that I don’t look like John McCain. I tried growing a beard (to appear older) after internship but much to my chagrin I have the testosterone levels of a 9-year-old boy because it grew in all uneven. And since I didn’t want to go from the Grey’s Anatomy nickname to being called “Patches” the pseudobeard was quickly removed.

I’m only guessing here but when people see a very young looking doctor they can either think:
1.He’s very young and inexperienced so he’s probably a bad doctor or
2.He’s very young so he must be very smart if he’s already a doctor who’s given these patient responsibilities and literally making life or death decisions on a regular basis.
It’s kind of up to the individual to sell himself as #2. When a patient sees a kid who could be an extra on Dawson’s Creek if you gave him a Jansport backpack and a pair of Skechers instead sporting a white coat there are already 2 strikes against you. That being said, it does help to wear nice ties and an expensive watch.

Even the finest imported suit could not compensate for this lesser known tidbit: most people aren’t grateful for their care. When I worked a local grocery store at age 17, I would occasionally give an apple or bag of cherries to a local if he/she were checking out the produce. Customers would act like I gave them a sip from the Holy Grail for a bite of Granny Smith. Now I treat bacterial meningitis with expensive, cutting edge antibiotics and I don’t even get a smile. Don’t get me wrong, some people are really sweet and bake cookies or give Spurs tickets, and I didn’t pursue medicine for “thank you” notes any way. I’ve found that recognition is the red cayenne of compliments; a little bit can go a long way. This sentiment is reflected fairly well in the Doogie series, and even more accurately in later dramas like Chicago Hope and the popular Scrubs show.

But the only real similarity between my current life and Doogie is the closing. I sit here typing in my journal with 80’s keyboard music that adequately reflects my mood playing in the background. I even have my own Wanda now. The 12-year-old version of me would be so proud, and above all grateful.