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Lives of Doctor Wives: "You know you're married to a Medical Student when..."

Saturday, August 8, 2015

"You know you're married to a Medical Student when..."

Here we are! Gearing up for the second year of medical school. Where did the first year go? How did we survive it? No, really. HOW did we survive it?! At least this time around we feel settled and refreshed after (our last ever!) summer. SDrH enjoyed his summer research program and we got to spend almost every evening and weekend together...

BUT (Because you knew there was a "but" coming.)

But I'm already working on a mental list in my head. You know, the list in which you keep all the things that you plan to do when medical school causes your life (social, marital, and otherwise) to come to a screeching halt. So far, painting the trim in the bathroom and cleaning out my closet are in the lead. Fun! But you know what? This is not unique to me. I'm not the only gal #marriedtomedicine. There are 4,000+ women on the Lives of Doctors' Wives Facebook page who are right there with me or have been there before. And these women knooooow. And I know that they know that they know. So I recently posed the following question: "You know you're married to a medical student when..." And boy, did they deliver. Some are hilarious, some are a little sad, but the best part...they get it. Because #wecandohardthings.

"You know you're married to a medical student when..."


You start off your ER visits by explaining that your husband is a medical student and then apologizing.

Your toddlers start to wave and say, "Bye!" every time they see their dad.

You refuse to look at their computer screen for fear of seeing one of those really gross, disgusting pictures.

You have date night in the library.

Bacteria is suddenly much more terrifying and you spend a fortune on hand sanitizer and antibacterial wipes. 

You spend part of your "honeymoon" at residency interviews.

You find a lump in your armpit and immediately assume you have cancer until he does an exam and reassures you that it's just a lymph node. 

Your home smells like formaldehyde.

You break your toe on their massive copy of Robbins (true, painful story).

They fall asleep prepping for Step 1 at the kitchen table...at 4:00pm on a Saturday.

You quiz your husband on pharmacology between labor contractions.

You have the feeling of financial security twice a year...on loan disbursement days. 

You get called the "best wife ever" by SDrH's classmates because you manage to go into labor the day of the big exam, but labor on your own at home for about 12 hours before he can actually get home. 

When your main expenditure is coffee.

With every new class, you get diagnosed with very rare medical diseases that only happen in third world counties that you've never been to. 

Every prayer by your kids includes, "Please bless Daddy that he will do well on his test."

You find a trunk full of bones on loan from the department of anatomy in your living room.

You think you are holding hands with your husband only to realize that he's actually studying the anatomy of your hands. 

When you become the practice patient. 

When SDrH expresses frustration over not being able to watch television in double speed like his recorded lectures.

Your 2 year old waves while dad drives away and says, "Bye Daddy! Thanks for coming to my house!"

When quizzing your husband, you find that you can't pronounce half of the words on the flashcard.

You have to institute a rule that all pictures from lectures are not allowed to be shown at the dinner table.

You get no sympathy when you're sick.

You randomly catch SDrH eyeing the inside of your arm and saying, "I would go in right...there!" as he pretends his finger is a needle and pokes your arm vein with it.

You don't need weapons for intruders because you have massive medical books. 

Your toddler wants a working Otoscope for Christmas. 

"Friday" is actually any day that he finishes a big test.

You're not allowed to talk about what you'll do when Step 1 is over because that means it's coming up too fast. The night before the exam, even YOU can't sleep.

You give up your walk-in closet to be his office so you can actually see him during the day.

Moving home was more economical than paying rent for an apartment you'd never get a chance to 
use.

He's worried you have a tumor every time you have a headache. 

You attend more weddings and social events alone than as a couple. Eventually people stop asking where he is.

You learn to make Thanksgiving dinner from start to finish all by yourself because you can't get home to be with family...all because finals start the following week.

You actually get questions right when helping him study.

Your SDrH sends you and your sick 3 year old to the ER with 4 INDEX CARDS fully filled out on both sides with detailed progression, symptoms, and a "diagnosis" to give the doctor.

You laugh hysterically when friends/family ask if you'll be available more than a week in advance. 

You run into an old acquaintance you haven't seen in a while, tell them your hubby is a med student, and then dread the following question..."So, when is he going to be DONE?" Because then you have to explain match, residency, etc. and see the look of disbelief and/or pity in their eyes.

You splurge on Taco Bell for special occasions.

You go to bed and find your husband sitting on the bed with a skeleton that he has named "Yourick".

And last but not least, my own personal favorite...  

When you're about to *ahem* "get lucky" and he suddenly stops and says, "You have a lump in your right breast, put your hand behind your head," and proceeds to do a FULL BREAST EXAM in which he calmly (and correctly) diagnoses a benign fibroadenoma. Then he says, "Now where were we?" as I dissolve into tears thinking I have cancer.

***

Told ya. These gals knooooow. There's strength in numbers, ladies. Here's hoping this year is kind to you and your med student! 

Natalie
visit my personal blog at thehappyredhead.com

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2 Comments:

Blogger Taylor Morgan said...

OH MY GOD THIS IS MY LIFE

"When you're about to *ahem* "get lucky" and he suddenly stops and says, "You have a lump in your right breast, put your hand behind your head," and proceeds to do a FULL BREAST EXAM in which he calmly (and correctly) diagnoses a benign fibroadenoma. Then he says, "Now where were we?" as I dissolve into tears thinking I have cancer."

That's exactly how it happened. Now I want to go in for a checkup, but he says it's a waste of $150 because he's *sure it's nothing* and even though he's probably right, it's terrifying. Ha.

August 15, 2015 at 2:56 PM  
Blogger Alicia said...

When my DrH was in med school, I made this blog (1st and 2nd years): http://whatshouldwecallmedschoolspouses.tumblr.com

September 3, 2015 at 4:36 PM  

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