Dr. Jeanne Adams, the first female doctor to deliver babies in Lewis County, is preparing to retire this month after delivering nearly 1,000 local babies. In her small wood-paneled clinic in Chehalis, Adams explained that she’s delivered multiple generations of families.
“It never stops being amazing,” she said. “It’s kind of bittersweet. I’m going to miss the people a lot.”
Adams remembers returning to the Pacific Northwest decades ago after her residency in West Virginia. Taking a position in the old St. Helens Hospital, she knew of one other woman working in medicine in the county — an intern.
“Luckily she had a good reputation. Everyone was like ‘well, she’s OK, so you must be OK,’” Adams remarked, laughing.
Being the first woman to deliver babies in the area made a big difference for patients. Adams recalled many patients who didn’t want to see male doctors, and finally had a choice in the matter.
“They were thankful someone was available for them,” she said. “Some people have had bad experiences, and they just don’t want to be alone with a guy in a room anymore.”
It wasn’t Adams’ first time being one of few women. In undergrad in Chicago, she was one of only about 30 women studying pre-med. The class before her had two women, she said. The shift was largely thanks to Title IX, a civil rights law that barred sex-based discrimination in education. At the time, Adams didn’t think much of it.
“I just know that they were saying you couldn’t discriminate, and so automatically you were discriminating if you were taking 98 percent men, because it’s not that there weren’t qualified women out there,” she said. “It wasn’t until a few years later that I was like ‘oh my gosh, it would’ve been a whole lot different if I was two years older.’ Probably wouldn’t have been there.”
Being one of few women was difficult for Adams. She said it was small things that built up, like the sense that her male counterparts were respected more, talked to differently and given more attention. It’s one of the reasons Adams started a private practice.
“I like doing my own thing, I like making my own decisions, and if you don’t feel like you’re in an equal partnership with people, it’s hard to share the decision-making.”
As far as going into family practice, it’s a decision that stemmed from her childhood. Adams had a family doctor growing up that she saw regularly. He delivered Adams and almost all of her siblings. Then when she was 10 years old, her mother told their doctor that Adams may be interested in medicine.
“I still remember that, so it must have impressed on me. And when I was going to college, I was like ‘well, I would really like to try it,’” she said.
With family practice, Adams feels a level of intimacy and trust. Seeing people regularly, rather than just when they’re sick, cements a unique relationship. Adams now sees some extended families three generations deep. The comfortability and trust, she said, is what primary care ought to be about.
Now that she’s retiring, the clinic will close. Adams couldn’t find anyone willing to take over — which makes sense, she said, considering how many young doctors have accumulated significant debt, and the fact that “you don’t get rich doing primary care.” Primary care, she said, has been scarce and undervalued for decades. Even in school, she said, it was difficult to find a primary care provider. Her peers would call around for specialists every time they got sick, instead of having a primary care provider they knew and trusted. And the closure of her clinic reflects that larger problem. Now, some of her patients may be left scrambling in Adams’ absence.
“There just isn’t enough primary care. I think the medical community kind of fell down and didn’t really listen to themselves,” she said. “They pay lip service to primary care, but they don’t do anything really.”
That and the fact that a public health emergency is still ongoing makes it a strange time to leave the field of medicine right now. But the clinic is doing its best to give Adams a warm sendoff. A drive-by retirement party is scheduled the afternoon of Dec. 17th. Afterwards, Adams isn’t quite sure what she’ll be up to. She’s still trying to figure out her post-retirement plans.
“I don’t really have any. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never done anything else,” she said. “It’s been my life.”
