Edited by Roxanne K. Young, Associate Editor.
During this long flight home from a national meeting, I find myself
thinking of my daughter.
On the day she was born, we named her Kelsey. I was halfway through
my intern year, and my confidence as an aspiring physician was growing. My
wife had been having labor pains that afternoon and when they became severe,
we called our obstetrician, who advised us to come to the hospital.
I was both frightened and excited about the birth of my first child.
I imagined rocking her in my arms, teaching her the ABCs, and watching her
ride her first bicycle. Fellow residents teased that soon she would be reading Harrison's Textbook of Medicine. That would have to wait
until she was at least 3, I jokingly told them with pride. But most of all
I imagined watching my daughter graduate from high school. She would be wearing
a white holoku dress, as is often the tradition during
graduation ceremonies in Hawaii. She would walk across the stage, a beautiful,
confident young woman, ready to launch herself into the world.
Sakai DH. A Visit From My Daughter. JAMA. 1998;280(4):321. doi:10.1001/jama.280.4.321