As a neurosurgeon in my fifteenth year of practice at an academic institution, I often find myself reflecting on my career. Like all of us, I have many roles. I am a father, a husband, a lacrosse coach, an educator and a surgeon. The lessons I have learned as a parent and coach have helped me excel in many areas of my life.
Coming out of my fellowship, I was self-centered, uncertain and constantly striving to prove myself. Underneath this confidence and excitement was an underlying anxiety: I was in charge; I was the attending physician and any blame for mistakes or complications falls on my shoulders. I spent a lot of time worrying whether I was operating fast enough, doing enough cases, seeing enough patients or satisfying my employer. I didn’t ask for help. I measured success by my own personal performance in the operating room. I worked constantly but not efficiently, and I was rarely home. The running joke in our family was that I didn’t know how to get to my son’s elementary school.
As my boys grew older, I had become more efficient at work and consequently had more time for family. I became more engaged in my sons’ lives and started coaching their youth lacrosse teams. On the lacrosse field, I constantly reminded the players that it wasn’t enough for them to be fast or score goals. They could add so much more value to the team if they could see the whole field, recognize their teammates’ strengths and assist on goals as often as they scored their own. A great team could accomplish so much more than one or two star players.
One day after a case, the resident looked up and said, “Thanks, Coach.” I began to understand that what I did outside the hospital paralleled what I was doing inside it. I was a neurosurgical coach, I was a lacrosse coach and I was a dad coaching my teenagers to be happy, good and caring people.
My definition of success at work has broadened throughout the years. I now strive to foster a culture of teamwork where we can all work together and grow together. I embrace and seek advice from colleagues and mentors. I can relate to the surgical residents and have become a better teacher to them.
Raising children and training residents are remarkably similar endeavors. Children and residents all start out afraid. When tackling a new challenge, they feel tremendous fear and insecurity. They lack knowledge and experience, so they welcome help and support. Along the way, those young children and junior residents become teenagers and senior residents. Their knowledge and confidence grow; so do our expectations for them. They strive for independence, because they have earned it and believe they deserve it.
As the teacher or parent, it isn’t always easy to be generous with independence, especially when we know how much is appropriate based on our own successes and failures. During one case, a very technically gifted chief resident tried to argue with me that my caution during part of the procedure was unnecessary. I paused and replied, “You are acting exactly like my 17 year old son. You are a neurosurgical teenager.” Just like most teenagers, he was over-confident, stubborn, self-centered and aggressively striving for independence. He was focused on accomplishing a new skill without appreciating all the potential risks involved. We worked together throughout the year, teaching each other and by the end of residency, I was convinced he had all the skills he needed to grow and thrive.
I feel honored and proud to have helped graduate so many residents, sending them off to be adult neurosurgeons around the world. Along the way, they will all experience successes and failures and it will never be easy, but they’ll grow just as I have. They know I’ll always be here to coach when they need me.
*Special thanks to all the teammates who have helped me evolve as a surgeon and as a person throughout the years.
