I'm a woman and a surgeon. Why is this still shocking?

In our local press last week was a rare positive news story about the hospital I work at. There was a flattering photograph of me and a male colleague, with the respective captions of “project coordinator” and “consultant orthopaedic surgeon”. I am indeed the project coordinator, and happy to have the recognition, but I am also a consultant orthopaedic surgeon.

I don’t mind losing the job title, I was never one those house officers who booked a restaurant or car service as “Doctor so-and-so”, but I do regret the missed opportunity to positively represent and promote women in surgery.

Patients often don’t understand that I am medically qualified, that I do the operations and that I am most certainly strong enough. I introduce myself with my name and job title and yet, after being examined in their underwear, patients often ask when they are going to meet the doctor, or comment that “it must be hard being a medical secretary”. It’s not just the patients. I was working at a computer in the cardiothoracic department when a surgeon walked in and assumed I was his new secretary.

I have watched patients ignore everything I say when male junior doctors have called me in for advice; they continue to look to the alpha male six-month qualified trainee for his opinion while he squirms uncomfortably. Even the eight-year-old daughter of a female colleague had assumed her mother was a nurse; when the revelation was made she proceeded to argue that Mum couldn’t possibly be a surgeon, because she was a woman.

I am always delighted to be mistaken for a company rep, they are terribly glamorous. But I don’t appreciate receiving post mistakenly addressed to a mister; the only man I know with my surname is my non-medical father. Last week I received a letter about a patient I had operated on from a physiotherapist in a peripheral hospital who had assumed my title to be Mr. I have also received correspondence from the British Orthopaedic Association and the Royal College of Surgeons addressed to my dad.

I hate it when I’m referred to as a lady doctor, I never hear of any gentleman doctors. I do adore it though when patients lean in to take my hand and warmly tell me: “It’s so nice to see a lady”. And I don’t mind at all when patients exclaim: “Oh, so YOU do the operations? Are you strong enough?” as it’s my opportunity to challenge their preconceptions. If the general public don’t see photographs of female surgeons in their local newspaper, why would they expect to meet one in real life? They also need to believe that their daughter or granddaughter can be anything she wants to be. Challenging the gender stereotype is part of my everyday life, and I relish it.

If you would like to write a blogpost for Views from the NHS frontline, read our guidelines and get in touch by emailing healthcare@theguardian.com.

Join the Healthcare Professionals Network to read more pieces like this. And follow us on Twitter (@GdnHealthcare) to keep up with the latest healthcare news and views.