Opinion: It's hard to be modest when you know you're great

I was a lousy medical student. I worked very hard but struggled. However, I came into my own as a psychiatric resident.

My first job after my training was with a state-run mental health facility, the Behavior Health Service (BHS). One of my assignments was to start a small psychiatric hospital.

My confidence was fully restored during by this time. Some even accused me of being arrogant, to which I would reply, “It’s hard to be modest when you know you’re great.”

Dr. Don Fisher was the medical director of BHS. One day I asked him, “Why did you choose me for this position? Other applicants had much more experience than me.”

Fisher had told each applicant he wanted a “take-charge” person who would take over running all aspects of the hospital, including training.

All the others expressed concern. He asked me if I remembered my response.

“I sure do. I said that telling me to take charge is music to my ears.”

“That’s why you got the job,” Fisher said.

After we got the hospital up and running, it was time to bring in the inspectors to see if we could become an accredited facility.

The staff was determined to achieve full accreditation status. The head nurse, Shirley, was responsible for showing the inspectors anything they wanted to see and to answer all their questions.

During inspections, work must go on. The night before, a patient had come in depressed and suicidal. The patient was polite and cooperative, so I suggested we do the psychiatric evaluation in my office, which was just outside the locked ward he was staying in.

Everything seemed to be going OK when the patient jumped up and ran out the front door. I was much younger then and still had some of my college track skills, so I took off after him.

As I ran, I screamed, “Unless you are a really good runner and really strong, you better stop.” He glanced over his shoulder and noticed I was gaining on him fast.

He stopped and allowed me to peaceably walk him back.

Later, after the inspectors were gone, the staff was called into the cafeteria. We didn’t have the official report, but Shirley told us we were going to get full accreditation, exciting everyone.

Then Shirley told us the inspectors witnessed and heard everything involved in “the chase.”

Shirley said one of them asked, “Who is the man in the white coat?”

Shirley told them, “That’s our doctor.”

“Who is he running after?”

“That’s a new patient.”

Shirley told the inspectors that I was “different.” She said I was very “hands on.”

The staff roared in laughter. I knew they weren’t laughing with me, they were laughing at me.

I also knew that if one person on my staff had voiced disapproval toward me to an inspector, the chase would have been the “icing on the cake” that would have prevented accreditation.

It was a very humbling experience. In fact, modesty is now my greatest virtue.

A few months later, Fisher told me he was going to retire and he wanted me to be his replacement as medical director. Though others wanted the job, he was recommending me. He asked if I had any questions or comments.

“Dr. Fisher, telling me to take charge is music to my ears,” I said.

OK, maybe I am still a little arrogant. But, it’s hard to be modest when you know you’re great.

Don McDonald writes for Community News Exchange. Contact him at:

[email protected]