Exploring Physician Identity from an Islamic and Contemporary Western Perspective
Nabeel Salka, MSE, Medical Student, University of Michigan Medical School
How do you tell a sick patient why they are on the wrong end of a statistic? How do we—using the verbiage of Cicely Saunders—apply meaning to pain to reduce suffering? Of course, there is no protocol for this as there are protocols for sepsis management and antibiotic use. The manner in which we talk to patients about their health is highly variable and likely based on each of our belief systems. In fact, I would argue it is the one of the few things that individualizes us as physicians in an era where medical decision making is increasingly protocolized.
As a medical student, I am in the process of exploring my identity as a future MD. Increasingly, I am finding it intricately related to my identity as an American Muslim. Islamic civilization has historically placed schools in the setting of the mosque, deliberately tying worship with medical science. They were called madrasas, the most notable of which being the University of al-Qarawiyyin, the oldest institution of higher education in the world. By studying the intricacies of human anatomy and physiology, early Muslims marveled at the detail of God’s creation. In fact, the very first words revealed from God to our Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) were, “Read! In the name of your Lord who created,” (Quran 96:1) imploring him to examine the world as God’s creation and appreciate how He places everything in intricate order.
I was raised by my parents to love God in this way. As a young middle school student, my father took me with him to work to observe an open-heart surgery. He encouraged me to peer over the patient’s open chest to witness the complexity of the anatomy. “MashAllah” (praise be to God) I whispered, awestruck by the motionless heart and its surrounding vessels. I also reflected on how God's generosity provided the education and resources for the physicians to repair this complex system. The physician-patient relationship is profoundly spiritual, I thought.
However, I would be lying if I said that I never considered secular motivating factors for choosing a career in medicine. After all, it’s an honorable job that pays well and is generally respected by our society. There is also a considerable amount of self-fulfillment in what we do. It is rewarding to work on a really challenging case and experience the appreciation of a patient.
Nevertheless, the modern designation of science or even medical practice as an exclusively secular endeavor is inaccurate. It need not be. I challenge both myself and the audience to be more conscious of how our religious identities inform how we engage in studying medicine and interacting with patients. Perhaps through reflection, we can mature our identities as physicians in our modern world.
As a medical student, I am in the process of exploring my identity as a future MD. Increasingly, I am finding it intricately related to my identity as an American Muslim. Islamic civilization has historically placed schools in the setting of the mosque, deliberately tying worship with medical science. They were called madrasas, the most notable of which being the University of al-Qarawiyyin, the oldest institution of higher education in the world. By studying the intricacies of human anatomy and physiology, early Muslims marveled at the detail of God’s creation. In fact, the very first words revealed from God to our Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) were, “Read! In the name of your Lord who created,” (Quran 96:1) imploring him to examine the world as God’s creation and appreciate how He places everything in intricate order.
I was raised by my parents to love God in this way. As a young middle school student, my father took me with him to work to observe an open-heart surgery. He encouraged me to peer over the patient’s open chest to witness the complexity of the anatomy. “MashAllah” (praise be to God) I whispered, awestruck by the motionless heart and its surrounding vessels. I also reflected on how God's generosity provided the education and resources for the physicians to repair this complex system. The physician-patient relationship is profoundly spiritual, I thought.
However, I would be lying if I said that I never considered secular motivating factors for choosing a career in medicine. After all, it’s an honorable job that pays well and is generally respected by our society. There is also a considerable amount of self-fulfillment in what we do. It is rewarding to work on a really challenging case and experience the appreciation of a patient.
Nevertheless, the modern designation of science or even medical practice as an exclusively secular endeavor is inaccurate. It need not be. I challenge both myself and the audience to be more conscious of how our religious identities inform how we engage in studying medicine and interacting with patients. Perhaps through reflection, we can mature our identities as physicians in our modern world.