Disguise
There have been countless moments when I have I found myself in disguise at the hospital. Sometimes when I am at the hospital for work, I feel like a mom in disguise. Sometimes when I am there with Caleb, I feel like a pharmacist in disguise. My brain is conflicted and confused. Am I a parent right now? Or am I a clinical pharmacist? Why does it seem so impossible to be both of these things at once?
NICU Mom disguised as a NICU pharmacist in my office at work
I am standing in line at Starbucks in the middle of my workday waiting to order a coffee. My son’s otolaryngologist, director of the Center for Airway Disorders, joins the line just behind me. I have interacted with him as a parent many times, both in his office and in the OR after he did Caleb’s DLB and later, his ear tubes. Waiting to order coffee in this long Starbucks line, can I disguise myself as a pharmacist, and hope he does not notice that I am also the mother of a child he recently operated on? All of these thoughts, rushing through my brain in the few minutes I wait in line. The extrovert in me wants to say hello but I keep my head down and don’t make eye contact, not wanting to face the reality of my double life.
In the ER with Caleb.
I’m just a mother. That’s all my brain can handle.
They don’t know I’m a pharmacist here, and they don’t need to know. I’m just here with my baby, wanting to get some answers. The resident tells us she will prescribe him clindamycin for his infection and will give him his first dose here in the ER. I tell her that we will need to give it through his G-Tube since I know how notoriously horrible is tastes, plus he can only swallow thickened liquids by mouth. The resident says it’s pretty thick and should be fine to take by mouth, and she’s not sure if you can give it through a G-Tube and will have to ask pharmacy. That’s it, I blow my cover and tell her I am a pharmacist and yes you can give it via a G-Tube and no, it is not “thick enough” for my son who requires nectar-thick liquids to take by mouth. It’s impossible to just be a mother. My brain cannot turn off.
At the hospital with Caleb after a long appointment, slowly making our way down the hall, over the skybridge, and back to the parking garage. I am never in a rush to get in the car and sit in traffic, so I let him take his time and mosey along. He stops to play with some light-up buttons on the wall when a physician I recognize slows down as he is walking by. It is the director of the Thrombosis and Anticoagulation Program, who I recently worked on a research project and published a manuscript with. Caleb says “Hi!” and looks up at him. The physician immediately engages with Caleb, bending down to get on his level, and compliments his balloon. I sink into my disguise. I do not want to think about the manuscript we are working on, and I desperately hope he does not recognize me. I want to enjoy this moment watching a kind physician interact with my sweet toddler. A piece of me feels embarrassed for sinking into my disguise, as if I have something to hide.
It’s incredibly difficult to describe. It feels like there is no winning. Am I recognizable behind my disguise? Who am I supposed to be? How do I untangle these two opposing identities and let myself just.... Be?
It is impossible to survive without a disguise when living a double life as a medical parent and a medical professional.
