‘‘Once a Doctor, Always a Doctor?’’ 237
medical school and residency—being up sixty-eight hours in a
row. I have it under my belt. Nobody’s going to take it away from
me. I don’t think of things the same way as the general public. I’ve
had too much exposure to illness and death.
Juan qualified his position as a physician, but remained one: for him, be-
ing a ‘‘retired physician’’ was still an identity, a role.
The notion that physicianhood constituted a deeply ingrained iden-
tity supports the concept that despite the onslaught of managed care,
medicine still involves ‘‘professionalism,’’ rather than being merely a job.
Physicians clung to this role of the doctor, fixed and well-established due
to professional socialization.
Yet debates still arose since identity entered numerous daily social in-
teractions in real and symbolic ways—from reserving a restaurant table
to introducing oneself to strangers. Ill physicians debated whether they
were still entitled to use the title ‘‘doctor’’ when no longer fully func-
tioning in that role. Analogously, as medical students, they had often
wondered about being called ‘‘doctor’’ as they began to assume some, but
not all, aspects of the role. Retirement forced Stuart, for example, to
change radically his sense of self, leaving him puzzled.
Adding ‘‘Doctor’’ in front of my name means there’s more to ex-
plain as to why I’m sitting here at four in the afternoon: ‘‘What
kind of doctor are you?’’ It just opens up questions that I’m not
prepared to answer. It’s hard to say, ‘‘I’m retired.’’ They look at
me (I’m forty-five) and go, ‘‘That’s curious.’’ I use a tone of voice
that keeps them at arm’s length.
Tone of voice, as well as words themselves, conveys information about
his identity. Stuart’s communication told listeners how to respond to him;
the form of permissible discourse.
These individuals had to navigate the widening gap between their
changed social definition and self-definition. Stuart added:
Now, when I get blood drawn at the lab, I’m just myself. I don’t use
the title ‘‘Doctor.’’ Some of the techs remember me, and some
don’t. I don’t . . . walk through the back entrance. I go to the phar-
macy and pick up the prescription, rather than giving my title and
blustering my way through. I might be fifth in line. If I used the
title ‘‘Doctor,’’ they wouldn’t be as brusque with me. They might
even pull me out of line and put me forward. For twenty years, I