I am often asked: “Is it not hard, to be an orthopaedic surgeon and a woman?”



I take a moment to consider how, as a woman, my alternative genitalia, hormones and modest bosom might mean my job is more difficult.

There is a height advantage when drilling out a tibia or reducing a dislocated hip, and I do sometimes wish I were a little bit taller, and men are statistically taller than women. However, the operating table can be lowered, and there are platforms available to stand on in theatre.

Men are generally stronger than women, and orthopaedics has the reputation of being physically demanding. Anyone who has had to assist the surgeon in an orthopaedic theatre will confirm it can be exhausting. The act of operating is much less physical though, as we get to wield the power tools. Indeed the motto “technique, not strength” is often directed at trainees, and I enjoy offering a hand to the burly junior male doctor who is struggling to wield a slap hammer.

I do have heavy periods, and that can be very inconvenient. Bleeding more than the patient during an operation is a potential embarrassment, although at least I bleed on to theatre scrubs rather than my own clothes. This must be the same for some female scrub nurses too; in fact, I’m sure there are many professions in which women can’t always change a tampon at regular intervals.

I also have the irony of a menstrual cycle that is synchronised with my on-call rota. Premenstrual tension does not help the sense of doom, emotional exhaustion and inevitable tension headache that surgeons of either gender have when on call for 24 hours in a major trauma centre. There must be women all around the world, in all manner of professions (or even hardships), wishing their period started on a different day. It can be hard to be a woman.

I found that breastfeeding was hard, and my brief attempt to continue breastfeeding as an orthopaedic surgeon soon proved to be an impossible feat. So I would admit that it is hard to be an orthopaedic surgeon and a breastfeeding woman.

Perhaps the question people mean to ask is: “Is it not hard, to be an orthopaedic surgeon and a mother?” It can be very hard to leave for work before my children wake up or to arrive home after they have gone to bed. It can be hard to miss their nativity play or not be with them when they are ill. This is hard for fathers too though, and I know many working mothers who aren’t orthopaedic surgeons, yet face the same challenges.

Or perhaps people want to suggest that it is stupid, to be an orthopaedic surgeon and a woman. Being an orthopaedic surgeon without a 1950s super wife is indeed foolhardy. I would love to come home to my slippers, an immaculate house and spouse, sparkling happy children and dinner on the table. As would my male colleagues, or any man or woman in any household. In fact, even my husband hasn’t given up on that dream. But I am grateful that I wasn’t condemned to life as a 1950s super wife, because I wouldn’t have been very good at it. I am grateful to live in the 21st century and to have had the choice and opportunity to succeed in anything I choose.

It certainly is hard to be an orthopaedic surgeon, and it can be hard to be a woman, but I’m also pretty certain that it is not easy to be an orthopaedic surgeon and a man. The most difficult part of being both an orthopaedic surgeon and a woman is to think of a polite, concise way to defend the suggestion that as it is hard to be who I am.

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