Identifying with patients: a physician perspective

Recently, I was confronted by a mother of an extremely sick, extremely precious child with a question: “Do you have kids?” 

I think at the heart of this question, which I have often faced, is the concept that pediatricians with children are more empathetic and are maybe even better doctors than pediatricians without kids.  Perhaps the advantage of having kids as a pediatrician translates to an increased desire to help the patient, knowing that the physician would not want his or her own child to suffer.

But is this really a necessary part of practicing medicine, for a pediatrician to be able identify with a patient’s suffering more easily solely on the basis of having a child?  And, no matter what type of physician you are, there will be characteristics of the patient, of the family, that you will not be able to identify with.  Perhaps the family is of a different ethnicity and can’t speak English, or is of a different socioeconomic status, or the patient has a disability that is unimaginable to the physician.  There are an unlimited amount of patient attributes that a treating physician may lack.

As a pediatrician without children, I’d like to think it’s not necessary to have a child to be able to be a good pediatrician.  Maybe, my perspective will change once I have kids, but in thinking about this issue, I am reminded of the rigors of training and post-training that I have endured to be able to have the privilege to be a part of patients’ lives.  I get to help children breathe better.  I get to wake up each morning, go to work, and hear all the imaginable and unimaginable stories that are awaiting me behind the door of each exam room.  I get to wipe away the tears of mothers who are so afraid of their child’s severe asthma, that they worry their children will die in the dead of night - these mothers trust me with their emotions and fears.  I get to reassure parents to discard their fears about their precious babies with noisy breathing - the problem is nothing more than a soft upper airway, and that the problem will go away.  I have had the heartache of attending the funerals of patients with cystic fibrosis, and hugging the parents, who are grateful for what I have done, and I feel thankful that at least I have been able to impact a family’s broken heart at least in some small, minute way. 

Would these feelings be multiplied if I were to have a child?  I would like to think not, but it's possible. Is the male ob-gyn a less qualified physician?  What about the cardiovascular surgeon who has never undergone bypass surgery, or the infectious disease specialist who does not have HIV?

In answering the mother’s question, I would have liked to respond with, “No, I don’t have kids, but I don’t think that takes away from the fact that I want your child to be safe, healthy and happy.”  This should be the common goal shared by all good pediatricians, those with and without children.