And Then He Flashed His Badge: Preoperative Racist Encounter With an Off-Duty Officer

It’s 3:36 AM. Another urgent “airway foreign body case”—they seem to always present at this hour. I make my way to the preoperative room to obtain a brief anesthesia and family history. Upon my entrance, I assess the child as I have done countless times before—noisy breathing, accessory muscle retractions, irritability, oxygen saturation is 95%. The continuous flow of supplemental oxygen through the non-rebreather mask implies a more critical situation than the saturation value alone indicates. I turn to the parents, putting on my best reassuring smile, and introduce myself as Dr Owusu-Bediako, the physician and anesthesiologist responsible for their child’s care. Before I can finish, the father interrupts: “What did you say? It’s hard to understand you. Spell your name for me, and I’m going to need you to speak up!” Taken aback but no stranger to this “weaponized ignorance,” I smile again, spell my name, and reiterate my role in the care of their child. The father proceeds to inquire about the origin of my name, how many cases I have handled, and whether it is common for a nurse to perform this type of procedure. He also insists on being present in the operating room to ensure everything is “done correctly.” I take a deep breath, I explain that my name is Ghanaian, and that Ghana is a country in West Africa. I inform them that due to the urgency of the case, they cannot be present during the induction of anesthesia or stay in the operating room. Unsatisfied with my response, the father stands up and positions himself between the glass door and me. He flashes his police badge, stating that he can do whatever he wants. Suddenly, I feel unsafe in a familiar setting. This kind of encounter was never covered in my medical training! Through the door, I can see the surgeon and circulating nurse working on computers, unaware of the tension. I wonder if this will be marked as another “anesthesia delay.” Should I call hospital security to defuse the situation? Will it further delay the child’s care? I regain my composure and offer the father a compromise—his wife can accompany us into the operating room to witness the induction of anesthesia, after which she will be escorted to the family waiting room. The father’s response of “you sure will,” shows no appreciation for the concession I’ve made. However, I must make a “social decision” in this moment. As a Black female physician, I must “get past” this White male officer who is blocking my exit from the consulting room. The urgency to get his child to the operating room before a potentially life-threatening situation arises compels me to proceed. Fortunately, the surgery goes smoothly, and we transport the child to the recovery room. It’s now 5:18 AM. I head to the doctors’ lounge to process the encounter. I am drained. I pour a hot cup of coffee. “This shift is almost over,” I said to myself. Suddenly, I receive another page—the father insists on seeing me again. Fearing for my safety, I inform the nurses that I will only speak to him if the surgeon accompanies me. The surgeon agrees, and together we approach the father, who stands with folded arms. He immediately directs his question to me, demanding to know about the medications used for anesthesia and a copy of the medical record. Coming to this second encounter, I naively hope that, perhaps, the father realizes his unprofessional behavior toward me and is now contrite and will apologize now that his child is safe and recovering from the surgery. Instead, he remains skeptical, pressuring me to list and spell each anesthesia drug while I emphasize their safety. Finally, the surgeon intervenes, commending my exceptional care and assuring the father that we were fortunate to have me on duty that night. Leaving the lobby, the surgeon apologizes for the encounter, expressing disbelief that such behavior still exists in 21st-century America. I retreat to the call room, feeling emotionally drained and exhausted. It’s 7:05 AM. Time to go home and hug my family!