Why I didn’t become a doctor
By Claire Sakaoka, Owner, Chief Strategist
I was going to be a doctor. My dad was a hospital CEO (now happily retired), one cousin was a general practitioner, another a dentist, and I’d always pictured myself as a healthcare provider. My heart was in the right spot. I wanted to help people and make a difference.
In my junior year of high school, I became a candy striper (note there’s only one “p”) at the regional hospital in my hometown. My primary duty was refilling water pitchers and making the residents smile in Long Term Care. I absolutely loved it. And the joy my presence created was tangible. I heard stories. So many beautiful stories. The patients told me of their lives, their children’s lives, and grands and great-grands…I was awed by them. I saw them.
I could clearly picture them when they were my age in the 1930s, ready to take the world by storm, just as I was. It made me think. I was always what people called an “old soul,” and these experiences made me start to see that in myself. I wanted to capture these patients’ stories so their stories could live on (and so they could live on in them).
Meanwhile, back at my high school, I joined the Future Medics of America (FMA) club; I also took writing electives and art classes because it was fun and easy. I took all the advanced science classes offered in my junior and senior years. And let me tell you, the struggle was real. Chemistry was my undoing. My senior year, I worked my 17-year-old self into an anxiety attack, crying — the whole nine yards.
My dad (who double majored in anatomy & physiology and biology, became a college professor, then hospital CEO) finally asked the question I hadn’t wanted to think about. He asked me, “why.” Why did I think I wanted to be a doctor? To which I replied, “To help people and make a difference” and “be important,” and I’m sure “make money” was in there somewhere, too.
He said gently, “Claire. Sweetheart. You don’t need to be a doctor to do that. Now, you can pass that chemistry class, make the cut, and go to medical school. There’s no question of that. But is that what will make you happy?”
I remember being almost angry. How dare he question my carefully cultivated plan. I probably looked at him crookedly, too, because I just wanted him to tell me what to do, like most 17-year-olds do deep down.
So, seeing my impatience and irritation and need for action, he simply asked me with a hint of a smile and a twinkle in his eye, “What are you good at? Focus on that. Start there.”
After a near-sleepless night of tossing, turning, and contemplating, I’d decided.
The next day, I went to my counselor and dropped Chemistry (bam!). An immense weight lifted from my shoulders immediately, and I could breathe again. I walked right out of my counselor’s office and into my second-hour class, Art for the Creatively Gifted class (yep, that’s what it was called in 1998), and started leaning into my strengths rather than minimizing where I found my joy.
Now, this is an oversimplified retelling of the many little things that kept pointing me toward harnessing my creative side over becoming a doctor. However, my mind goes back to those long-term care residents as a pivot point, knowing that even without medical training, I could listen and help them relive their stories… which is still what I enjoy doing today. So, now when people ask me what I do for a living, I get to say, “I play with words and tell other people’s stories,” and it’s pretty great.
Epilogue:
I graduated from high school and went on to college to major in public relations and graphic design. I flew through all my coursework, graduating with honors a semester early. Ten years after that, I founded my company, engage5w, and started working with healthcare executives as they went through a career transition. Sometimes, that transition led to another job and other times, it culminated in launching their own business. To date, I’ve helped well over 300 healthcare professionals with their online personal and business brands.