Making it work

More than 230,000 people have already graduated from Utrecht University. Each alum has his/ her own unique life story. The Utrecht University Fund is talking to these alumni to hear their stories about Utrecht, their study time there and all their special life experiences. This time, we spoke to Doryne Hennipman-Gerritsen.

I was a rebel

Ninety-two-year-old Mrs. Doryne Hennipman Gerritsen is bright-eyed, cheerful and talkative. We’re having coffee and biscuits in her sunny living room and she gets straight to the point: I had a fabulous education! Mrs. Hennipman started studying medicine at Utrecht University in the early 1950s and specialised in paediatrics. She then became part of a paediatric practice in Gouda, worked as a paediatrician at baby clinics, gave first-aid training and ran a GP practice in Enschede with her husband for almost 10 years.

What kind of family do you come from? A very warm one. My father was a pastor, a people person with great sense of justice. I’m the second child in a four-girl family. I was a rebel. The bannisters in our house were worn down because I was always sliding down them. I sometimes think I should have been a boy. I was fearless, had scabby knees and was very active. I loved my father and he loved me too. He never told me, but I know he did.

Are you still fearless now? No, I’m not. Those days in September* affected me a lot. The fear makes you retreat into yourself. She was the only one of the family’s four daughters who was allowed to study. Her father had agreed. Even if I have to bend over backwards to make it happen, he had said. In those days, you didn’t have scholarships.

Why did you choose to study medicine? My mother was a nurse and my father a pastor. I always knew I wanted to be a doctor. Being there for others was an important value in our family.

Utrecht The choice fell on Utrecht because her father had studied there too. She moved into a loft room in Oog en Al. My mother dropped me off at the UVSV, where the initiation started straight away. We all sat on the floor, with a red ribbon around our heads and a bow on top. We had to knit for poor children. 

What did you think of student life and the UVSV? I’m not really a fan of associations. I found myself in a world with a lot of girls who were from better backgrounds than mine. They were from wealthy families. Although I came from a moderately welloff family, I knew my parents had had to give up a lot to make my study possible. 

And what about love? My father was clear. He said: ‘remember (tapping with his fist on the coffee table), graduate first and then you can bring a man home.’ She did go out sometimes. With Bram, who was in the dredging industry and wanted to take her with him when he was offered a job abroad. There was no way I was going to do that. And once with Karel. But I wasn’t the kind of person to kiss just anyone and when Karel wanted to meet up again, I made it clear that wasn’t going to happen. So that was the last I saw of Karel. 

Was your study what you had expected straight away? It wasn’t always easy but I never thought of quitting. I had a goal. I attended all the lectures and was always in the front row. I can still remember doing an exam with professor Jongbloed. He wasn’t the world’s easiest man.” And then, deep in thought, “but it was still very good. 

What was it like being at the dissection table for the first time? I was given a leg. A leg isn’t difficult. I did a good job. In her third year, she was asked to be a lab assistant. In return, she paid no tuition fees that year. I had to work with frogs. Oh my God. You had to completely dissect them before being able to prepare the heart. It had to be attached to a little machine so that the heart kept beating. It was very finicky work.

After five years in Utrecht, she moved to Rotterdam to do residencies at Stichting Klinisch Hoger Onderwijs (now: Erasmus Medical Center Rotterdam). “I had to go to Katendrecht to do Obstetrics. It was a poor, deprived district. It was the perfect place to see the ugly but important aspects of the profession. I’d arrive at a house with my bag of things. Someone would be about to give birth, but there was absolutely nothing in the house. I had to boil my instruments first. Get clean tea towels from somewhere. The midwives left a lot to me. I always say: you learn the profession on the periphery. I once grabbed a pudding bowl from a cupboard to put the placenta in. You have no idea what I went through. Once I came home covered in fleas. That was awful.”

I always say: you learn the profession on the periphery

She met her husband while she was doing residencies. They set up a general practice in Enschede together and started a family. Within just three years, they had three sons. The couple devoted a lot of time and attention to people, staying in touch with them even when they recovered. Sometimes, her husband would have to leave unexpectedly during surgery hours. So, she would hang a note on the door:

Anyone who wants to be helped by me can stay. If you don’t, my husband will probably be back at about 1 o’clock. 

A lot of men left. Yes, it was still like that back in the 1960s. Most women were happy to see me. There were also people who didn’t really have an ailment but were grieving. They would suddenly open up and talk to me about their situations. I always saw that as a real compliment.

A dirty nappy makes all the difference’ Young parents often asked her for advice at the baby clinic too. Some mothers would worry if their child was weighed and hadn’t gained any weight. And I’d say ‘but I bet you changed his nappy before you came? A dirty nappy makes all the difference.’ And I’d see their faces light up. We still had the time to develop a relationship with people back then. That changed. At a certain point, we were told that we couldn’t see children more than once every six weeks. I didn’t enjoy it any more after that.

Finally: have you ever had wise advice from someone? Advice that you still think about today? My parents told me to be honest and never cheat anyone. I’ve passed that on to my children. She then stops to think for a moment. Well, what do you tell them? The realisation that we want for nothing but that many people in many parts of the world have very little. I gave them my heart.”

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