Dr Poranee Buttery: A rural perspective
Australian and New Zealand College of Anaesthetists
ANZCA is one of the largest specialist medical colleges in Australia and New Zealand.
I haven’t always practiced in a rural setting. I’ve actually spent most of my professional life in metro, working in teaching hospitals but in recent years, I made a lifestyle decision to move rural.
One of the first things I noticed was significantly fewer women working as anaesthetists than men. There seemed to be significant differences in gender distribution of the workforce in terms of roles as well. In the operating theatre, the workforce is distributed along what would be regarded as ‘more traditional’ roles. For example, only last week, and typical for the days I ‘go rural’ during the lunchtime break, I noticed that I was the only female medical practitioner in the operating theatre. All the other doctors – surgeons and anaesthetists, were male, mostly middle aged or older, and for the most part, with a wife at home or if working, in a part-time role. In contrast, when I’m working in a metropolitan setting, there is usually a more even gender balance, across all roles.
I was the only woman at the doctor’s table, me and four older men. I knew a number of the men as colleagues, and their conversation was generally welcoming. We talked about our career transition plans, and our mutual interests in rural lifestyle and agriculture. As I reflect on that day, I wondered, if I were a younger, female anaesthetist, earlier in my career, would I be comfortable enough to join in with the conversation of the men? The alternative being to sit with the nurses, all female, and listen to talk about local schools, clubs and activities. Would I know enough or be able to engage in conversation about the local community, local activities and lifestyle to feel welcome?
I often think, if my partner had decided to work rural, would I have supported this? Would my younger self be comfortable with a lack of female role models or colleagues? Would I be ok attending a male GP, because there is no female GP in town, and the nearest female GP is almost 100km away? Would I choose, as a young mother, to travel at dawn and dusk, a time when the kangaroos and wombats are active and crossing the roads, in order to have ‘knife to skin’ at 8am? Would I be ok, having to take career breaks to care for my children, when there is no childcare and few options?
Now, during the latter part of my career, the warmth of the social welcome, the relationships built over the years, especially with local women, give me comfort. We have shared interests that make the connections stronger, attracting me to rural living. I have chosen to move rural at a time when child rearing is over. And I’ve decided to commute to the city to see my GP.
As I reflect on what I have written, gender inequity is not only about a lack of female anaesthetists; it fundamentally reflects a lack of services and social and emotional support for women, provided by women, locally.