The Wiser One

Not all wounds are loud. Some arrive in well-articulated contempt. 

A female physician I had just worked with told my supervising doctor: I have no interest in interfacing with your nurse practitioner. If I wanted the opinion of a nurse practitioner, I would’ve gone to NP school instead of medical school.

Um… ouch. That landed.

It wasn’t just dismissive, it was a quiet erasure. A message that I wasn’t worthy of her time, respect, or even acknowledgement as a fellow clinician. It didn’t matter how respectfully I communicated with her, how thoughtful I was in my care of her patient, or how sound my plan was. Sometimes, the room has already decided who holds authority, and who doesn’t.

I don’t claim to be a physician. But as a nurse practitioner, I hold myself to the highest standard of practice—with care, humility, and a deep commitment to learning. I don’t shy away from growth. I seek it. I ask the hard questions, pursue the right answers, and when I’m wrong, I adjust—quickly, thoughtfully, and always with the patient foremost in mind.

Isn’t that what we expect of every trainee? Every new doctor?

And yet – there’s a difference.

Residents are challenged within a system that acknowledges, expects, and protects their learning. 

As a nurse practitioner in a specialty role, I’m often learning while already expected to perform. Without a title that automatically earns respect. Without a structure that formalizes my growth. That moment wasn’t just about hierarchy – it was about exclusion. 

The truth is, I’ll encounter this again. Some colleagues won’t see my role as legitimate, no matter how thoughtful or evidence-based I am. But as the saying goes: when we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. 

So I will meet it differently. 

When I told my mom the story, she said simply, “You can learn wisdom from a child.”

And she’s right. 

Wisdom has less to do with what we achieve, and more to do with how we show up when we are challenged. 

Curiosity over ego.
Tenderness over perfection.
Grace over shame.

I write this not out of defensiveness, but out of a commitment to professionalism, a pursuit of excellence, and a desire to become not just the smartest person in the room – but the wisest version of myself. 

Because those of us practicing in spaces not built for us know: we don’t just have to know medicine – we have to justify our presence. We don’t just have to get it right – we have to get it right graciously. And still – we rise, we learn, we keep showing up with curiosity and care.

That is our credibility.
That is our power.

That is the kind of clinician I choose to be.