At least I was for a weekend.

For those uninitiated in musical theatre, as I was 20 short months ago, Fyedka is a character in The Fiddler on the Roof, a production originally done on Broadway in 1964. The setting is the fictional shtetl of Anatevka, a small Jewish settlement in eastern Europe under Russian occupation. I was cast to play a young, russian, Christian soldier who falls in love with one of the daughters of a poor milkman named Tevye.

I chose to write about this experience because it’s intensely personal to me, but also because it made me realize a few things about myself and how I form emotional connections with places, things and, most of all, people.

I was never interested in musical theatre. In my pre-teen years, I may have attended one or two shows but they don’t evoke any strong memory; I couldn’t even tell you today what they were. So imagine hitting 40 and being invited to take part in something (mostly because of your kids), and finding yourself immersed in a brand new world of discovery.

My love of singing dates back to preschool, when ordering cassettes from Columbia House mailouts became the rage. I still remember fondly knowing every word to Class of ’57 from the Very Best of the Statlers and proving it to family and friends by sidling up to the boombox in the living room. Acting had never been considered, and no research was ever undertaken to see what was involved. Being part of the ensemble cast for a recent production of Oliver! was such a departure from the life which I had always identified. I was involved in a new process, meeting people who didn’t care about my occupation or my background, but who wanted to come together to tell a story. Even though many of these musicals have been around for decades, I honestly didn’t know the story nor was I familiar with the songs. I had to learn them in real time through the eyes of those cast in the main roles, and from the musicians in the pit band. It was magical how those characters came to life.

I went into the shows with a philosophy that derived from my wonderment towards the talented actors and actresses that supported me: someone in every crowd was brought along with only a casual interest in the show or maybe didn’t know anything about it before arriving at the theatre. If I do my job, if I make the role believable, there is a chance they will leave with my image as the character they remember every time they recount their experience.

Even though it’s not a straight parallel, sometimes we forget that as healthcare professionals, we are just as radical a departure from the general public. The impressions we make when someone ventures into our world have the ability to comfort, inspire, educate, and help improve their quality of life. Sometimes we take for granted that it’s old hat to us, but a brand new experience for others.

I remember my first real experience at a pharmacy. I was 16, and had just come out of a minor surgical procedure with a prescription for Tylenol #3’s. At that point, the anaesthetic was beginning to wear off, and I had never experienced a similar pain before. On this day, did I care that the pills may be constipating? Was I thinking about a weaning schedule after three days or so? Did it matter to me whether it was covered by my parents’ drug plan? All rhetoric aside, it shouldn’t surprise us that when someone avails of our services, they may not be in the mindset to appreciate all the steps involved in filling an order, or consenting to a monitoring plan. Everyone is different, and similar to an actor finding just the right ad-lib when the unexpected happens, we resort to our professional training to determine the best approach to that patient. Perhaps a supportive word, and a quick rundown on the essentials are all that matters today. Would a follow-up phone call, after someone has had the chance to process a new diagnosis, allow for a more productive conversation?

Most of all, the one thing I gleaned from this experience is that you truly can’t fake genuine. I know that sounds weird when the whole point of acting is to play a fictional character and tell a story, but the show is borne from a genuine place. It’s not simply reciting the words on a page or simulating movements that are choreographed, but rather studying the reason why those words need to be said. Why do they have a certain order or cadence? It’s trying to understand how the movements enhance the message and contribute to the scene. How does a gesture amplify the emotion of a song lyric? If you believe in what you do and what you say, those watching begin to trust your ability, and your message.

Whenever a patient asks for you, realize that YOU are the pharmacist they talk about with their family and friends. YOU have brought the world of pharmacy into their lives. YOU have the ability to nudge them towards better health choices and increase their quality of life.

Which role do you want to play?

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, employer or affiliation.