Parentheses

When I first thought about the domain name for my blog (www.drmariahiggins.com), I heard a voice in my head say DOCTOR Maria Higgins. The DOCTOR spoken in a haughty, contemptuous voice. I mentally cringed and recoiled.

All through optometry school, I yearned to be called “doctor”. That title is a huge factor driving you through your hardest days. Understandably as a twenty-something, I wanted it for the wrong reasons. It was for the prestige and the status. It was for that clearly visible label. Unlike other professions without the salutation, it lets people know how long you went to school, how hard you worked, and approximately into which tax bracket you fall. We strived shamelessly for that designation. (We also kind of wanted to help people see.)

Once I earned “Doctor”, the title never fit comfortably. It was like a sweater that was stretched in some places and shrunk in others and itchy all around. It never integrated into my personality and it never became my identity. I would be in public and a patient would call “Hey, doc!” and my instinct was to look around for the pressed, fancy-pants, conservative, wealthy doctor. Slowly, I realized they were talking to me. I was usually wearing old jeans and a wrinkled “Feel Your Boobies” T-shirt.

Recently, I gave this mismatched identity some thought. I remember how this deep-set aversion began.

I was flying on a standby ticket gifted from an airline employee. A person, whom I will not name, told me that I needed to dress impeccably as I was representing the airline’s employee and (for God’s sake) I was a DOCTOR. Yes, in that same arrogant tone, dripping with the condescension I heard in my recent thoughts. She also suggested that I stress to the flight attendants that I need an exit row seat because I was a DOCTOR who could help in an emergency.  In my mischievous, smart-ass way that I adopted for these types of statements, I retorted, “Should the plane crash, I will be sure to address any contact lens issues that anyone might be having.”

(In defense of my education, optometrists do assess systemic disease through the eye and we are an integral part of a team of well-rounded health care professionals. We do NOT know, any more than the average Grey’s Anatomy binge watcher, what to do in a sea of airplane carnage.) 

She wasn’t amused.

Many different but similar stories compounded my discomfort with the title. Only when it was necessary, I would say, “I am doctor Maria Higgins.” I say it with an apologetic air and a receding smile. With my tone, I apologize for unfairly being able to use the title to get a better seat on the airplane. I apologize for the aforementioned person who elevated and exonerated someone solely because of his or her status as DOCTOR. Passively, I apologize for when a patient was condescending to a staff member but sweet to me because I was the DOCTOR. I apologize for the benefits that I received but hadn’t earned, simply because of my honorific.

That is all in a single lower-case word.

Through some psychological gymnastics, I land on that I am (Dr.) Maria Higgins. It is a fact; I am an optometrist, and I graduated from school with a doctorate degree and I do practice eye care daily. But, it’s not entirely who I am and I should not enjoy special privileges because of it. I don’t feel like I need to exaggerate my role in health care. If I can get by without mentioning it, I will. 

I am grateful for the wonderful life that the hard-earned degree (not the prefix) has provided. In my case, the definition of “parentheses” illustrates the way I look at the title “doctor”. “Parentheses enclose an amplifying statement, additional yet separate from the main meaning. The whole is complete without the parenthetical statement”.

Thank you for reading.

(Dr.) Maria Higgins