2-year-old: Why you a doctor, Daddy?
Daddy: What else should I be?
2-year-old: A daddy. (Like duh.)
To patients and his colleagues, my husband may be a radiologist, someone who interprets images to help make diagnoses, a highly trained professional with almost nine years of medical education (not that I’m counting) under his belt who sees things differently.
Rachel sees things differently, too. She thinks the white coat is funny. She could care less about the initials behind his name. She doesn’t think a pager equates to power or prestige. It’s a distraction instead. Its beeping not only takes the doctor away – it takes her daddy away.
Pay attention to the man in the white coat. In his daughters’ eyes, he will always be a daddy first.