I'm 83... I Chose My Career Over My Dying Mother. I'd Make the Same Choice Again скачать в хорошем качестве

I'm 83... I Chose My Career Over My Dying Mother. I'd Make the Same Choice Again

I'm 83... I Chose My Career Over My Dying Mother. I'd Make the Same Choice Again I chose to perform surgery instead of being with my mother when she died, and I would make that choice again. My name is Dr. Helen Kaminsky. I'm 83 years old. My mother died on March 14th, 1987. I was 44, a cardiac surgeon at the height of my career, one of only a handful of women in the country doing what I did at that level. My mother had been sick with lung cancer for eight months. We knew she was dying. That morning, my brother called at 6 AM. Mom had taken a turn for the worse. The hospice nurse thought it would be today. I should come as soon as possible. I got in my car and started driving to the hospital where she was. Halfway there, my pager went off. A sixteen-year-old boy had been in a car accident with massive internal injuries including a torn aorta. He needed immediate surgery or he would die within hours. They needed me specifically because the surgery required expertise the other surgeons on call didn't have. I pulled over and sat there trying to decide. My mother was dying and wanted to see me one last time. A teenage boy I'd never met was also dying and needed me to save his life. I had to choose. I turned the car around. I performed a seven-hour surgery on a child I'd never met while my mother died without me there. My brother called while I was in the operating room. I couldn't take the call. By the time I came out of surgery, she'd been dead for three hours. My family has never forgiven me. My brother didn't speak to me for fifteen years. My sister speaks to me now but there's a coldness that never existed before. My father never understood. He'd look at me with confusion and disappointment until he died. Most people, when they hear this story, are shocked. They say I chose work over my dying mother. They say the surgery could have been done by someone else. They say I should have known what mattered more. But here's what they don't understand. My mother was dying whether I was there or not. We'd had months to say goodbye. She was unconscious by the time my brother called. My presence wouldn't change the outcome. The sixteen-year-old boy's death was preventable. If I performed the surgery, he had a 60% chance of survival. If someone less experienced attempted it, his chances dropped significantly. So I made a calculation. I chose the life I could save over the death I couldn't prevent. I chose the teenager who had decades ahead of him over my mother who'd lived 72 years. I chose to use my skills to do something only I could do in that moment. That boy lived. His name is Marcus. He graduated high school, went to college, got married, had three children. He's 53 years old now. I got a Christmas card from him last year. He has a whole life that wouldn't exist if I'd made the other choice. I've had 37 years to think about this decision. 37 years of family estrangement and social judgment and people telling me I made the wrong choice. And I still believe I did the right thing. I'm a doctor. I became a doctor to save lives. On that morning in March 1987, I had to decide whether to use my skills to save a life or to be present for a death that would happen regardless. I chose to save the life. My family sees this as betrayal. They think I valued my career over my mother, that I chose strangers over family. In some ways they're right. I did choose my career in that moment. But I don't think that makes me a bad daughter. I think it makes me someone who took seriously the responsibilities that came with my abilities. I had skills that could save a dying child. If I'd refused because my personal situation was more important, what would that say about my commitment to my work, to my patients, to my oath as a doctor? People want to believe there was a perfect answer. But there wasn't. Any choice I made meant someone would suffer. If I went to my mother, a child would likely die. If I went to the operating room, my family would feel abandoned. So I chose based on where I could make a difference. I chose to save a life rather than witness a death. And yes, I chose my work over my family in that moment. I would make the same choice again. CHAPTERS: 0:00 - The Impossible Choice 3:00 - The Morning My Mother Died 6:20 - I Chose the Surgery 9:10 - My Family Never Forgave Me 12:00 - Why I Don't Regret It 15:30 - The Boy Who Lived 18:00 - I'd Make the Same Choice Again #storytelling #lifelessons #lovestory