Behind the White Coat

My profession often requires me to stay silent in the face of suffering and humiliation. In doing so, I found my voice—and myself.

Chaya Bhuvaneswar
ZORA

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Credit: Alex Williamson/Ikon Images/Getty

1. So much of medicine depends on maintaining silence. Doctors are told secrets, taught over a period of years how to respond. The expression on a face transforms “stranger” into “patient.” We bear witness, not turning away from any form of suffering, even if it triggers us. This is how we protect patients.

This silence extends to all relationships at work: nurses, counselors, admins, secretaries, other doctors. One of my psychiatrist colleagues, training her residents, uses the phrase “think of yourselves as 50,000 feet above whatever’s happening.” At first, everything in me resisted this idea. By comparison, “down to earth” was an Americanism I found appealing, a testament to having warmth, guts, energy, courage. Closeness is risk; risk, dedication. But quickly I saw how true my colleague’s words were: Cool distance is a soothing thing. This is how we protect ourselves.

When I was younger, I watched as my mother, a pediatrician in a community clinic, came home and immediately flopped down on the couch. Sweaty, annoyed, she’d ruminate silently until the day’s indignities wore off. Eventually, she translated her years of daily practice into…

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Chaya Bhuvaneswar
ZORA
Writer for

Writer&poet. Recipient Dzanc Books Story Prize collection 10/18 forthcoming. WHITE DANCING ELEPHANTS. PREORDER 3/18. #poetryofresistance.chayabhuvaneswar.com