Dealing with a disappointing move

It’s that time of year again.

The time of year when so many of us pack up our lives and move for our spouse’s career. Any move can be stressful, but it’s an especially rough undertaking when you’re less than enthusiastic about your new location. Doctors’ wives are often in a unique situation in which we have very little choice about where we relocate to—thanks to the infamous Match.

So if you are finding yourself trying to settle into a new home after a disappointing move, you are not alone.

If I am being completely honest, I can tell you that I was more than a little disappointed when we saw our Match results in 2013. My husband, the soon to be doctor, and I would be married exactly a week after the Match ceremony and I had been hoping on starting our marriage out with an adventure. I had hoped we would Match somewhere new and exciting, somewhere outside of our home state and med school state of Ohio.

When we opened our envelope, not only did it say we would be staying in Ohio, but it was the residency was in the one city I did not get to visit on my husband’s interview trail. It was the one place on his rank list that I truly had overlooked and was not expecting.

Looking back, I shouldn’t have been so surprised. The program was placed pretty high on his rank list. Whether it was wishful thinking or ignorant oversight, I’m not sure, but when we found out we would be moving to Akron, Ohio I was shocked…and less than enthusiastic.

In the following months as we prepared for our relocation I became even more apprehensive. The city wasn’t ideal for finding a job in my field. It was a half hour closer to my husband’s family and 2 hours farther from my family. We were having trouble finding a place to live. The reasons to be disappointed in our new home just kept building up in my mind.

Then I realized it: I wasn’t really giving what would be my home for the next 3 years or more a fair shot. I was focusing on the negative and my outlook on our new hometown, as well as the opportunities it would provide, wouldn’t improve until my attitude did.

It is amazing to me to think that two years have already passed. I can’t tell you that it has always been easy or that I loved our new town in every moment, but I can say that I am very happy there now.

I want to share a few of the things that helped me deal with my disappointing move, as well as few things that—looking back—I wish I would have done from the start. I hope some of these tips can help someone else who is learning to love a new location after a move.

My tips:

1. Make your new location your home.
In our medical journey, I have always said paraphrased the old adage "Home is where the heart is" because for me it is more accurate to say "home is where my husband is." While some days that may feel like I should make the hospital my home, it helped me to remember that our new town was home now. It helped me to quit referring to our last city as "home". I couldn’t start loving and thinking of our new location as my home if I was continuing to think of and refer to someplace else as my home.

2. Make your house your home.
We bought our home, a condo in a suburb of our new city. There is a lot of debate about whether buying or renting is better in residency. I can’t speak to which is best and think it is a personal decision for each couple, but for me it has allowed a lot of freedom to invest my energy and emotions into our house, making it our own. Even if you rent, I would suggest doing what you can to make your house feel like a home. If you can’t make big changes or even cosmetic adjustments to flooring, wall colors, etc., try to find the areas where you can make it yours. Hang your favorite pictures, go thrift shopping or yard sale-ing to find new pieces of décor or furniture that will help you feel more at home. For me, the more I could make my house, or things in it, into a "project" the more invested in and connected to it I started to feel.

3. Go exploring.
Safety first if you do this! However, I do recommend taking a good look around your new city. Find what it has to offer. Where are the fun places to visit like museums, the zoo, restaurants, etc.? Where are the best shopping areas? Are there any neighborhoods you would LOVE to live in if you ended up staying there long-term? What is downtown like? Is your city more white-collar corporate focused or blue collar industry focused? It is also helpful to know, but maybe not visit, where the more dangerous parts of town are. Getting to know your city helps you learn to love it. While a lot can be found out behind the screen of your computer, I suggest taking field trips and physically exploring when and where you can. Remember, stay safe!

4. Get a pet.
Okay, I know this isn’t for everyone, but if your personal preferences, living situation, and budget allow, I definitely suggest getting a pet. I’m a big supporter of dog rescue organizations, but go with what is right for you. A pet helps you by providing both company and something to automatically love about your new city—its where you got Fido/Fluffy/Benedict Cumberbatch! We rescued a hound puppy a year into our residency and it was the best thing I did after moving. It forced me to get out and go on walks in our neighborhood, which helped me meet a lot of our neighbors—the cute puppy as a conversation starter was good too. He makes me feel more comfortable when my husband is working late at night or all night. If my dog isn’t worried about that noise, it is probably okay. He keeps me company and gave me a purpose before I found a job in my field.

5. Get involved.

Whether it is getting a job or finding someplace to volunteer some time, I recommend finding someplace to get connected in your new city. If you have kids, maybe it will be something at their school. If you can’t get a pet but wish you could (or even if you have one) maybe you can find a humane society or rescue group to volunteer with. Maybe there is a group at the hospital, either of other wives or a volunteer system. If you are involved in a religious group, see if your place of worship needs help in any way. Nonprofit organizations like museums, theatres, food banks, or shelter houses are always looking for volunteers. Finding some place to give your time, for pay or as a volunteer can help you feel connected to the city and see first-hand the value it holds and great people that live there.
　
What I wish I had done:

1. "Borrow an Egg"
I live in a very safe neighborhood. I wish I would have gone around to my nearest neighbors’ homes and introduced myself in the first few months of living here. I envision it like you see on the TV, with a 50’s style housewife bringing a pie to the neighbors and letting them know that she lives next door now. I don’t know if I would have brought pie, but I do know it would have been nice to get to know my neighbors early on, and just to know there was someone next door that I could come to in case of an emergency... or in case I needed to borrow an egg.

2. Stay in town.
This relates a lot to #1 in my tips, but I wish I would have spent more time staying in town early on. I went to visit friends in our last city pretty often in the first few months of living in our new city. I know many of you won’t have this chance because your move is much farther from your last city than mine was. I’m not saying to never visit friends either. I just wish I would have spent more time staying in town and getting to know my new home instead of keeping my heart so focused on our old town.

3. Play pretend.

While sometimes it is comforting (and realistic) to keep in mind that residency is temporary and living in this location may also be temporary, sometimes it can add more stress knowing you’ll just be picking up and leaving again (relatively) shortly. I wish I would have allowed myself to pretend that this was forever, or at least to let go of my focus on it being temporary. I know in the beginning I was less willing to fall in love with my new city because I knew it wasn’t "forever." If it helps you, let yourself pretend it is forever. Sometimes we need to let go of counting down the months and days in order to let ourselves be happy in our current situation.
　
I hope some of these tips help you. If nothing else, I want you to know that you’re not alone. Many of us have been through a disappointing move. There is hope. I, for one, have come out on the other side, happy and enjoying our home. I hope you will too! And remember, even if you don’t end up loving your new city, you love your spouse and as long as you are with them, you are home.
　

Survivor Stories: Having a Successful Medical Marriage

After nine years of marriage (and 11 years together) my husband and I recently experienced a first.  Our close friends told us they were divorcing.  We were shocked.  They are the first of our friends to divorce, although I sadly accept that they probably won’t be the last.  While we were not only shocked at the news of the divorce, we were more surprised by the circumstances that ultimately caused the end.  This was a professional couple that worked a lot, but they seemed to have a great connection and healthy relationship during their limited time together.  It made me wonder how anyone stays married to a professional, specifically a physician. 

I started seeking advice from physician wives I know.  Their answers to my questions were so powerful that I expanded my interviewing to other seasoned wives willing to take the time to answer them.  I focused on wives who have been married to their physician husbands for over 30 years.  I felt that 30 years certainly qualified them as an expert on the subject.

Their insight was amazing.  And with their words came examples of hardship, frugality, adaptation and most importantly, independence.  Not only did it show me how possible it is to have a loving, long-term medical marriage, but was also critical in showing me how much MY attitude, effort, and commitment is needed to make this work.  Given our blog post limits, this is just a snippet of the interviews (one response per question).  The respondents are all anonymous so their names have been changed.

TRAINING What part of training was the most challenging? How did you get through it?

Linda – “Internship was definitely the hardest.  At the time my husband was an intern we had 4 children one being a newborn.  He worked probably 120 hours a week (no kidding!).  I just learned that we had to go on with life with or without him there.  We ate dinner at 6:00 and if he was there great, if not he ate when he got home.  We had to keep a schedule for the kids’ sake.”

SUPPORT SYSTEM What is and was your support system for challenging times? How did you keep your sanity?

Karen –“ I would say our biggest support system besides each other would have to be our friends that we were close with in the Emergency Residency program.   Our family on both sides was out of state and too far away to see much more than on holidays and summers.   So, our support system became our fellow residency friends who were going through the same things that we were at the same time.  We soon learned that they were our new “FAMILY” who we could count on and go to in an emergency.  About 3 weeks after my husband started his new residency, I had a miscarriage, and needed to go to the hospital.   Since we had to find someone to care for our 10 month old daughter quickly, we called our new friends, a couple we had just met in the residency program a few days before and asked if they could help us out with her while we went to the hospital.   They were our angels and came to our rescue that day in a time of crisis and need, which was such a gift for us and our daughter.  We realized that day our new friends were our  "new family” and to this day our connection to these special people is a priceless treasure.”

SACRIFICE What personal sacrifice have you made for your husband's career? Has this created problems in your marriage? How did you overcome any resentment?

Susan – “Well, me not having a career.  When my husband and I got married I kinda knew what I was getting into, although we didn’t have a lot of physicians in the family our next door neighbor was a surgeon and I noticed he was never home.  So I kinda knew it was going to be a rigorous schedule for my husband.  And we talked about that and I made the decision, we made the decision together, that I was able to stay home with the kids.  And that was definitely a gift.   It didn’t create any problems.  I accepted it, and had been in fashion merchandizing which did not have great pay, and the next level would have meant travelling and doing buying and I didn’t see that fitting into the equation.  I really wanted to have two or three children and that’s a big commitment.  Somebody’s got to be there and frankly, now that I hear the stories after they had grown up, apparently I missed a few things along the way – even though I was home full time.  So I can’t imagine what would have happened if I wasn’t around.”

FAMILY PLANNING  When did you join your husband on your journey? What is the best time to start a family? What types of things did you do to keep consistency in your family life? 

Mary - “We had our first child when he was PGY3 and second child when he was moonlighting while starting a new practice.  I have to give my husband the credit for keeping as much consistency as possible.  He insisted on "family dinners" every night - whether in or out.  I, on the other hand insisted on date nights every weekend!  Still do!  I needed something to look forward to by the end of the week.  We employed local teens to babysit when we moved 30 minutes from my parents.  We also took weekend trips alone - something I usually planned --again, something I needed to keep sane.”

MARRIAGE Did you know what you were getting into marrying a physician? How do you nurture your marriage?

Nancy – “My best friend's mother was married to a busy general surgeon.  She raised six children almost on her own.  She was a marvelous role model - a woman of grace and elegance, who sat me down six weeks before my wedding and told me how he wouldn't be around for most of the important things in our lives - and that if I couldn't handle that without making him FEEL BADLY about it, I shouldn't dare walk down that aisle. She told me he would already feel badly enough about everything he would miss, and that if I showered resentment on top of that, we wouldn't have a good marriage.  She was right, and I recount that story to every potential physician partner I've ever met.”

FAITH Did faith have an impact on your success as a married couple? 

Patricia – “We are not involved in organized religion, but we share the same values and desire to be decent people. We believe in God, that people are more than just themselves and part of something bigger, and we believe things happen for a reason that has a greater purpose. Our faith is something we have in common and one of the reasons we have remained in love. In other words, we admire each other’s values even though we know we are imperfect and make mistakes. We’ve never doubted that we are well-intended and that helps us approach challenges between us.”

FINANCIAL What's one piece of financial advice you can give to younger medical couples? 

Patricia – “ My advice is to realize that money represents different things to different people and when you’re dealing with money you aren’t really talking about dollars but people’s fears and dreams. Know what money means to your spouse… what it represents (security, self-worth, social acceptance, freedom, etc) and then work from there. Without understanding this, the potential for conflicts over finances unnecessarily increases.”

FUTURE OF MEDICINE What are the new challenges for today’s physicians? Did you or would you encourage your children to pursue medicine?

Linda – “I don’t think today’s physicians are treated the same way as they were years ago.  There are to many insurance worries for a physician NOT to order to many tests because there is always the fear of being sued.  There seem to be less physicians so their work load is greater.  Would my husband do it again…maybe.  None of our 5 children went into medicine because I think they saw how hard it was on their dad, the hours, the time away from family, they see the money is nice but not the hard work and pressure it took to get to this point.”

BENEFITS At what point did you feel like it had all came together? What is the best part of being a physician’s wife?

Karen - “For me, being a physician’s wife, has been and is an honor, with many more positives than negatives.    It is a mixed bag with many sacrifices and frustrations, but also many blessings.  One of the most sobering parts of being a physician’s wife over the years is the awareness that because my husband’s chair is empty at our family dinner table, somebody in the ER just might be getting a second chance at life because my husband is there running a CPR code, saving a heart attack patient from dying far too young, or running the trauma room on a young accident victim.  There is a certain joy in knowing that because our Daddy/husband is gone from our dinner table tonight and is working, that somebody else’s Daddy will be alive and will return to his family’s dinner table next week.”

ADVICE Knowing what you know now, would you have changed anything along the way? What lessons of life have you learned?

Mary – “Wow, a tough one.  Everyone has to live their life the way that's most comfortable for them -duh!.  For us it was being a couple, having a family, and just being the true people we are.  No faking it.  You are who you are.  Medicine is not a glamorous job, but with it comes respect and admiration from others.  Don't abuse that.  Make your marriage come first - you won't be sorry.  A lot of women I know put their children first above all else, and end up with lousy marriages.  I never felt that way.  With our kids out and on their own, you only have each other - keep up the fun, the love and the sex!”

If you would like to read more, I have all of the responses compiled into an eBook that is available for free on my website (see below).

 Amber Stueven is wife to an EM physician and mom to two little girls.  She has a website for physician spouses at www.PhysicianSpouses.com *not affiliated with LDW.

Work, Baby, Work

I didn’t start to hate DrH’s career until our daughter was born. We’d been together for six years—through all four years of medical school and one year of anesthesia residency all in the west. Now we were on the east coast for his final three years of residency. While we had always felt the inconvenient parts of him being a doctor in training, I never truly hated his job. Having a baby changed everything.

I grew up with two doctors for parents—one family practice and the other internal medicine. They practiced in my tiny hometown in Montana and took on celebrity status amongst its citizens. My dad delivered many of my friends and classmates. My mom kept their mothers and fathers sane and healthy. Everywhere I went I was told, "Oh I just love your parents. You’re so lucky." And I was. They were smart and could provide everything we needed. But I also saw how stressed they were at home and the energy they didn’t have for marital discussions, helping with homework, and decorating the Christmas tree. I knew how many hours a week I spent at daycare. In many of our home videos, my dad looks like he’s half asleep—because after delivering a baby at 4 o’clock the previous morning he probably was. I decided at a young age (as did my two sisters) to never be a doctor. I didn’t want anything to do with that life—the life of sacrifice at home to serve others. And then I met my wonderful husband.

When we started dating, he had already gotten into medical school. Right away, I shared my trepidation with him about the medical lifestyle. But he was a starry-eyed, first-in-the-family-to-become-a-doctor type and said he valued family time above all else and would never go into a specialty that didn’t respect that. And in addition to falling in love with him and knowing I would do anything to be near him, I believed him, thinking that my childhood experience was myopic—that the overworked, rural primary care physician wasn’t the only model out there.

And actually, medical school started to convince me that doctor training wasn’t that bad. Everyone told us to brace ourselves for how hard it would be. Throughout it all I just laughed to think of that, still do. Med school seemed totally doable! Being an independent woman with a lucrative job, I was happy to have my own thing going on and the space and time to meet with friends and do creative projects while he studied. We did date nights every week, went to concerts, and took little road trips on the weekends. He would study in the car. During fourth year we got engaged and traveled together for all of his away rotations, taking our adventurous wheaten terrier with us. It was a blast—a month each in six major cities, playing the tourists with our free time, planning our wedding, and visiting friends and family. I picked him up and dropped him off every day at work, exploring the city with our pup and doing at-home transcription during the days. On his days off, we sunbathed in San Diego, saw museums in Chicago, and strolled in New York’s Central Park. For the most part, we felt free and happy.

Then everybody warned us again: "The first year of residency is the worst." The dreaded intern year loomed after our wedding and honeymoon were over. Luckily, we matched for that year in the same city as medical school had been, so we were able to stay near all of the friends we had met the previous four years. I soon got pregnant and stayed busy working, planning for baby, doing home projects, and figuring out the move out east for the following year. Intern year flew by, and we were mostly still able to keep our date nights and sanity. Days off we spent at the pool or hiking and always felt rejuvenated afterwards. The best part was that DrH was truly free when he came home—no studying or applications or thank-you letters. We thought we had made it and felt like the next three years while financially hard—I was going to stay at home with our daughter in one of the most expensive cities in the US—would be emotionally and physically easier.

Wow, were we wrong! In October of this year, we welcomed our daughter into the world. Even planning for her birth was stressful beyond anything we had imagined. They wouldn’t give DrH any days off surrounding the birth, so we had to plan an induction for his vacation week (that he requested around the due date and thankfully got). Luckily I went into labor naturally one day before the scheduled induction, so he still had five days to spend with us in the hospital and settle us at home. We were lucky he had even that, and he was able to be with me through the entire process, which ended up being as wonderful an experience as labor can be. We had time to go to the first pediatrician appointment together and make sure our house was set up for our new leading lady. However, those days were over in a flash. The night before he had to go back to work, I thought he might cry (and I certainly did!). He knew once he was back in the hospital work zone, the sweet bubble of love we were creating at home around our new tiny family member would burst.

And it did in a way. As the early months of her life went by I started to get very, very bitter. It didn’t help that all of our friends and family were now thousands of miles away. But even had they been close, I wanted DrH home. He was missing so many things. I knew he had to work to support us, but did he have to work so much? Did his job have to demand everything from him? Our daughter was changing before my eyes every day, and he was only seeing it through my pictures and videos of her first smiles, motions, and baths. By the time he got home, she was often cranky and ready for bed if not already asleep. Besides, even when he was home now, I felt a huge divide of what I was experiencing and what he was. He was so tired and overworked on top of the debilitating fatigue of having a newborn that he was hardly able to participate in our family. Many times he would fall asleep while holding her. It broke my heart. I wanted my daughter to have a present and awake father, the kind I didn’t have growing up. Like my father, DrH was an amazing dad, sacrificing everything he could to make our daughter and me happy. But time and energy were two things he just couldn’t give because his job was sucking them from him.

DrH started to get bitter, too, so it made it hard for me to be supportive. When he complained about work, I was quick to agree and criticize it whereas in previous years I had reserves of energy and positivity. Before, I knew his dream of being a doctor was becoming more and more tenable, and I wanted him to succeed and to support him in it. Now I couldn’t see the positive side of it, and he really needed me to. He still loved the mechanics of what he did, but the workload was harder than anything either of us had envisioned for PGY2 mostly because his hospital had massively increased its caseload that year. He was doing his best, but he just felt he was falling behind in fatherhood. And he wasn’t even giving all he needed to at work. In every spare moment, he was supposed to be studying for his big end-of-year test, but he just wanted to play with his baby girl. He felt the constant pull of these two demands, and all his desire pulled him toward family. His priorities had changed after her birth, but he still had to provide for us. We both knew that this was what we had signed up for—that residency wasn’t easy and that he would still have limited family time. Even if we wanted to reconsider, we were in far too much debt now to do so! We often wonder how many doctors in training are in a similar boat.

Our daughter turns eight months old soon. We are thankfully sleeping more and feeling better about being new parents. We also know we are so fortunate that he has a stable job, our daughter is healthy, and we are making do. I remind myself every day that many people in the world don’t have that and that life is not easy for anyone! But I am still trying to find a new peace with his work post-baby and trying to get rid of the bitterness—mostly because it harms our situation more than helps. PGY2 is nearly over, and the months are flying by. I know that we will blink, and his last two years of residency will be over. Hopefully this will free up some family time. It is hard not to just dream of that day. But I also know that by that time our daughter will be two and a half—walking, talking, forming opinions and saying crazy things, most of which he will have missed because he was working. We say regularly that we wished the payoff were even marginally worth the sacrifice right now. He recently told me very matter-of-factly that if he had to do it all again he would have chosen engineering or even just a nine-to-five job. Maybe the payoff is coming. Maybe it will all be worth it in the end. Until then we will keep plugging away and trying every day to focus on the joy our daughter has immeasurably brought to our lives—to focus on the moments and love we’re gaining not missing. After all, life is only now.

Catherine

A Year of Firsts

Two years ago my now mother-in-law handed me a book titled "Surviving Residency: A medical spouse guide to embracing the training years" by Kristen M. Math. It’s an amazing read. I was 23 years old, seriously dating a medical student who was approaching graduation, talking about engagement, marriage, and a life that seemed like a dream. I had no idea what God had in store for me.

When my mother-in-law handed me that book, I tore into it anxious to know about what this whole "residency" thing was about. I made it to the preface and read this:

"The medical training years present unique challenges that test even the strongest relationships. Medical school and residency training require a commitment of time and emotional resources that can leave little room for family… Even with the 80 hour workweek rules firmly in place, many students and residents find that they are exhausted by the relentless cycle of stress."

Wait. What?

I stopped dead in my reading tracks. 80-hour work week? What do you mean 80-hour workweek? Relentless cycle of stress? Exhaustion?

I’m not sure if anyone else felt this way, but I can honestly say I had no idea what being married to a physician would be like. Sure, we’d dated throughout medical school and it sucked. We didn’t get to see each other very much, and I knew he was stressed out a lot, but I was never face to face with it because we lived 30 minutes apart. But I figured, shoot, once we are married, we will be living together and even if he works long hours, I still get to see him. Little did I know…

Then before I knew it…he proposed.

After about a year of wedding planning, our lives began to speed up. Within a span of a few months, there was Match Day, graduation, our wedding and his first day as an intern.

BOOM.

And here I sit a year later after celebrating our first anniversary and the first year of residency, proud, extremely proud, that we made it through.

Residency is hard. In the beginning I remember looking at the calendar each month, as my DrH would post his schedule and crying. Yes. Crying. There were rotations that I absolutely dreaded; two weeks of overnight shifts, call nights, weekend calls, all of it in new rotations he’d never experienced before as a Doctor. He was exhausted all the time, stressed beyond belief, and was scared to death that he might make a bad decision.

The first year of marriage is hard. I wasn’t used to being alone that much. I got to sleep in the same bed as my husband for about 1 month before his first night shift began. I had a lot of lonely nights and embarrassing breakdowns to friends and family. There were fights, abrupt changes of plans, and prepared dinner plates that never got eaten.

But there is a season for everything. And even though this past year was hard, SO hard, I can look back now and say, "We made it." Not only did we make it, we grew so close to one another.

One year of marriage is complete. One year of residency is complete. And there are so many more years ahead of us that the years we spent in residency will look so small compared to what we will have someday. So as we say in our group, #itgetsbetter 

We established rules to fight by. We agreed to always be 100% honest with each other about our feelings, regardless. We communicate, we listen, and we pick our battles. We forgive each other like God forgave us, and we embrace the fact we are a team. We are going through this together, and we will make it together.

My DrH went from escaping to hospital bathrooms and breaking down over the uncertainty of his decisions to a newfound confidence in himself I’d never seen before. I watched him work so hard to be a great physician and an amazing husband. He kicked some serious butt, and I am so proud of him. 

Granted, we are still growing. We are still experiencing our "firsts" as a married couple. But as most of you know, being married to a physician is hard work. It is emotionally draining, exhausting and stressful. And yet once you get your first "wins" together, you can start to look back and say, "We did it."

So keep doing it. It gets better sisters.

Love you all,

Lauren

The Worst Decision I Ever Made

…was falling for a doctor. Anyone not married to medicine won’t understand how heartbreakingly true that statement is but will shame me for even thinking about not being by his side. But, come on, you know it’s the worst.

What a shame it was when we met in college as he studied molecular biology. He put up with my endless girly shenanigans and I faked enjoying working out because a few more minutes flirting with each other was better than anything else we could or should be doing.

How terrible when he had to move far away for medical school and I agreed to go with him because although no one had gotten down on bended knee yet, we knew an important question would be popped soon enough…and that the answer would be a resounding yes.

Oh, the misery of adding a research year (to be a more competitive applicant), walking down the aisle, moving in together, and seeing what all the fuss about marital bliss was! Those early years were a mix of interviews, newlywed nights, rank lists, and mister and missus days.

And then there was residency, which meant another move (but this time thirteen hours away). Just as the ink dried on his seven year contract…TWO pink lines appeared! And then disappeared. Too soon and just two weeks before he disappeared into the hospital for intern year. The wounds of the years that would follow still sting.

Work, work, work for him. Labs, tests, needles for me.

Baby? No baby.

Family? Friends? Nope. None of those out here either.

But there were plenty of hours…countless hours of him learning how to save lives at work and then us struggling to keep ours afloat at home. No one understood what we went through to help him live the dream of being a doctor while hiding the nightmare of personal struggles.

What kind of masochist chooses this life? Who agrees to move around again and again? Who supports a career that comes with so many strings? Who works this hard with this little recognition? Because no matter whose side of the family or which friend it is, everyone applauds his dedication and sacrifice but merely expects mine. How can you not want him to succeed and do everything in your power to make it easier for him to do that? It could be worse, you know? Why are you the one complaining? You don’t work those hours; he does. Because, of course, while he’s working I’m certainly not. What kind of monster hates her husband’s job sometimes…oftentimes?

And then…BABY! And baby! And baby! And, goodness gracious, another baby. And the hours at work went on and on. As our lives grew and changed, our responsibilities increased, but only my to-do list got longer. Take care of everything I need, everything he needs, everything we need, AND everything they need too. After all, he has to go to work. Those dreadful words always coming at the most inopportune times: I have to go into the hospital. Forget missing the big events and dates! That was commonplace at this late in the game. Now the small moments, the ones that meant nothing to anyone but me and him and them, were being stolen too. Studying for boards. Reading for cases. Prepping for presentations. Falling asleep ALL THE TIME. In fact, I still don’t know how that hilarious story about his attending ended because he only got halfway through the first word before falling asleep with a mouthful of the dinner I prepared for our family. Terrible decision.

That’s right. I learned to cook! And I’m kind of good at it. I also taught myself how to pay bills, do taxes, work in the yard, collect trash and recycling, balance schedules, not miss my career right now, make appointments for home repairs and health repairs, deal with two families who don’t really get it, take one, two, three, and four babies out alone, be an independent woman AND man, remember everything, and forget nothing. I learned it all, but he has the degree and the letters behind his name. Horrible decision.

The worst decision I ever made lead me to a life where I live in a lovely home with my four amazing children and their disappearing, zombie father. My partner is never fully present. Their daddy lives at the hospital. I sleep alone more times in a week than I thought I would in a year. Everyone we know cheers him on for the incredible work he does while barely mentioning all that I give to make it possible for him to succeed. So there are moments where instead of being grateful, I curse the stars for having me look up at the stud standing in front of me so many, many years ago. The explosion of my heart in that moment left me no choice but to begin my happily ever after.

But I stay. And I always will.

Because the worst decision I ever made looks at me with tired eyes, scruffy face, smelly scrubs, an empty stomach, a full bladder, an impressive brain, a strong will, and a thankful heart. He kisses me. He hugs me. And he calls me the best decision he ever made.

BOOM goes my heart.

And who could need more than that?

By: Soraya
 

I thought I was already at #itgetsbetter…

I have been a doctor’s wife for 2 years and I am still coming to terms with it being part of my newfound identity. You see, I didn’t have the fairytale romance of meeting my DrH in high school or college and taking on this medical journey with him from the beginning, side by side. Some days, I think that if I had, the transition I am currently going through wouldn’t seem quite so drastic, but then again that is merely my assumption. This transition I speak of is me trying to find myself again and get back to the #itgetsbetter stage after having found and fallen in love with DrH later in life. 

Let me take you back about 5 years, as the backstory is very important to give some perspective on where I am today. Before DrH, I was a very successful 30-year-old single girl living in the city, surrounded by my family and closest friends. My life was already at the #itgetsbetter stage and I had gotten there on my own. The idea of marriage was nice, but not really at the top of my priority list, as I was happy with my independent life. You can probably already guess where this story goes from here. DrH walks into my life and everything changes. I was very hesitant to date him at first because I did not want to be involved or potentially end up with a physician. Yes, you heard that right. In my career, I had worked with doctors as a malpractice consultant for 9 years, so I knew all about the sacrifices and the long hours. It was just not the life I had envisioned for myself. However, DrH is very intelligent, handsome and charming and before long I had fallen head over heels for him. So, I joined DrH in "our" medical journey when he was in his third year of residency.

Now, let me take you to present day. I have been on this journey with him for some time now and we are currently PGY8, as DrH is completing his third and final fellowship in a couple of months These past two fellowships have taken us from one side of the country to the other, resulting in me giving up my career and six-figure salary, and moving away from my family and close friends. I have gone from shopping at Nordstrom on a weekly basis to shopping the sales at Target on occasion and from brokering big deals in the boardroom to trying to figure out how to fill my days. As you can imagine, there have been many times along the way when I felt I had lost myself and put aside my desires for my husband’s career. I was already at #itgetsbetter before meeting him and now I am not…or so I thought.

As we are approaching the end of his training, I am beginning to realize that the real truth is: we have always been at the #itgetsbetter stage. The moment I met DrH my life was better. He made me realize that I didn’t have to face this world alone, that love is so much sweeter than anything money can buy, and that I now have a best friend for life. When he completed residency and we packed up and moved across country as newlyweds, our life was better. A girl who had never left her home state was now moving across country and we would make lifelong friendships and strengthen the bonds of our marriage as we took on the world together. I learned to step out of my comfort zone at 33. Another "dreaded" year of fellowship would take us to a new city (another cross country move!), where we would be tested and tried by the long demanding days and come out even stronger and better as a couple. I would learn to treasure only having one car so that we could enjoy time together each morning and night on the ride to and from the hospital as that was all we would see each other most days. 　All of my free time allowed me to find a new passion for volunteer work that would be so fulfilling and help impact young lives in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

Unfortunately, it has taken me almost to the end of this medical training journey to realize that while I was waiting for that next phase of #itgetsbetter, I missed out on the moments that were already made better through this experience. While I mourned my past identity as a career woman and breadwinner, I missed out on the opportunity to embrace my new role as a support and strength for my DrH. As we move forward in our next phase of #itgetsevenbetter, I will embrace the here and now and not always be waiting for tomorrow. I will be okay with being identified as a DrW, as I know that having that title means I provide my husband with the love and support he needs to do his life changing work… and I think that is something I can be proud of! So, for all of you that are anxiously waiting for it to get better, it probably already has. Take it from someone who has already been there before...or so I thought.

By: Toshia Wagner

Survivor Stories: The Next Chapter in A Different Kind of Survivor Story

Last month, I wrote about my husband's background, and how that began his journey towards a career in medicine.  He and his parents, along with some of his mom's siblings and their families, were refugees from Laos in the early 1980's.  It was a risky choice, to say the least, crossing a river at night with toddlers aboard, hoping to reach Thailand safely.  They spent 18 months in a refugee camp in Thailand before American missionaries helped them settle and start anew in Massachusetts.

When I've asked V about how early he knew he wanted to go into medicine, he tells me it was in his teen years.  Although stereotypical Asians excel in school and pursue professional careers after attending college, the numbers are somewhat different within his culture.  Many teens from his country, from his generation, got into gang culture and never went too far from home--geographically or ideologically.  V embraced Western culture, and his parents always had extremely high expectations for him.  It was understood that he should do well in school and live up to his potential.   I think they always knew he was capable of great things.

V did excel in school, enough so to have his choice of universities and scholarships.  Here is where he and his family took another huge leap of faith:  V decided to attend a private university three states away from his family.  Within their social circles, made up primarily of family and friends from their homeland, V and his parents found themselves to be rather odd.  First, V was going out of state, for college.  Second, he seemed to have no intention of working in his dad's small business and/or taking on ownership of it someday.  Third, his parents did not expect him to hold a job during college; they wanted him to focus on his pre-med studies.  Fourth, they assisted him financially because they could and they wanted to.

His parents continued to believe in him and support him after college, when he wanted to work in a biology lab on campus until he was absolutely certain that medicine was what he wanted to pursue.  Around the same time, he asked a fellow alumnus, also working on campus, on a date.  Within the next two years, he knew that he wanted to apply to medical school, and he also knew he wanted to marry that young lady...me.

I was on a walk through campus, passing the building in which V took his MCAT.  I was in his living room when he opened his acceptance letter to his top choice of med school.  That was around the time he told his parents he wanted to marry me.  His family hasn't had the best experiences with their men marrying American women, so although they were thoroughly cordial to me, they were open with him about their concerns.  "She'll be a distraction...she'll get pregnant and you'll drop out of school..."  I have to applaud my husband for his defense of me and our relationship.  We got married amongst great joy and hope, and both sides of the family, a month before med school started.  That was 13 years ago.

Even as I write this, I'm realizing how many risks V and his family have taken to get to where they are now.  There is more to his story, which I can add to if there continues to be interest.

My husband's story captivates me because of the fascinating results that have come from his family's decisions to take risks.  His story encourages me because lately he has been saying that he feels like there is more to his calling, yet to be seen...

I am married to an ENT physician, and together we have two children, ages 9 and 5.  We live in Florida and enjoy playing outside together, and gathering both sides of our family in our home for good food and fun.  

Pre-Med Perspective: It's the climb.

The infamous MCAT is behind us. The applications are in. Secondaries are complete and fees are paid. Now comes the all too familiar waiting game. Ever since I've been married to DH, it's been a test of our patience for our lives to move forward. Seven months after we were married, my husband was deployed to Iraq for 15 dreadful months. After DH was gone for only 30 days, I received news that would play a huge part in our life's course. On Halloween night as I sat by a bonfire with my best friend, my phone rang at 11:36pm. My husband had been hit by a roadside bomb. My heart was beating from my chest as I heard the words coming from my point of contact over the phone. For the next few hours I was restless and prayerful until the moment I heard his voice over the phone. It's surreal to me. It's so hard to understand the pain he felt and I cannot imagine what he lived through. As horrifying and dark the incident was, I am thankful. There is always something good to be found in even the most awful events. From this single event came my husbands desire to become a Doctor. He was the first to administer first aid to the other soldiers wounded in the explosion. It changed him. It sparked a fire in him that I've never seen before. Though his recovery was long and difficult, his doctors impacted his life in a big way and he knew he wanted to do the same for others. So here we are trekking up this mountain. While I am counting down the days until we reach the top, I have to remind myself to enjoy the climb.

I guess you could say I had it pretty easy growing up

I guess you could say I had it pretty easy growing up. Besides living out of state for the first couple years of my life (which I obviously don’t remember) my family moved once. I was 13 years old and it was a mile up the road. Neither my schools nor friends were affected.  While I couldn’t admit it then, my teenage years were easy and carefree. I lived with both of my parents and my 3 siblings and we had what we needed. My biggest challenges were AP tests and upcoming swim meets and water polo matches.  Oh, and boyfriends.  Life was just fine and change was a term I probably didn’t even understand the exact definition of. In fact, since we are only OMSIII, I still probably don’t…

Imagine my reaction when I found out we were moving out of state for medical school. Out of state?! What a swear word! People in MY family don’t do that. I had been married for almost 4 years and would have my second child by the time we moved. It was the end of the world, clearly. I guess I should mention that we moved one whole state away, which turned out to be about 11 hours driving. Knowing what I know now, I should be embarrassed for my “Drama Queenery.” But then, this was HUGE. I didn’t even know what to expect. We would be moving from Salt Lake City, UT, a place where I felt extremely comfortable and protected, to Phoenix, AZ. All I knew about Phoenix was that it had cactuses, scorpions, and it was one hundred and a billion degrees in the summer time. None of those things have proved to be wrong, but I’ve found so much more.

I grew up on the east benches of Salt Lake City. When I looked out my front room window I would have a majestic view of the towering Mt. Olympus. Whether is was Spring, Summer, Fall or Winter that peak had all sorts of secrets to offer my eyes when I peaked through the blinds. It is beyond beautiful.  When we wanted to roast marshmallows, we drove 5 minutes to the mouth of the canyon and were immediately buried in towering trees and 100 foot cliffs and our ears were inundated with the sounds of rushing water. The parks around my home had the softest, greenest grass and everyone in the neighborhood had lush gardens full of colorful flowers. When we wanted to cool off from the “hot” summer we sped up Parley’s Canyon to the legendary Park City, and just a little further to beautiful lakes and rivers.  It really was a dream. Even the dreaded winters were beautiful (when blankets of haze weren’t covering the valley). So the biggest problem I had with Arizona? It’s beauty, or lack thereof.

We had just driven through Las Vegas and I’m not sure what I was expecting to see but I wasn’t seeing much. There was a pile of rocks there and a bigger pile of rocks over there. Then there were cactuses. Those entranced me for two miles and then I realized something: there were no mountains (at least what I consider a mountain) and none of the “trees” had leaves on them. Wait, were there any trees? Then we finally got to our destination and I opened the car door. You know that feeling when you open your oven door when it’s 400 degrees inside? I felt like I was walking into a 400 degree oven.  I had come to a conclusion. Arizona was ugly. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly.

We had gotten settled and I hadn’t really changed my mind about what I thought about the physical appearance of my new home. That was until we experienced our first monsoon. It was the beginning of August and the wind was blowing dust like mad.  I was receiving warnings on my phone about a massive dust storm, the “mythical” haboob. They DID exist! Once the dust died down, nature performed the most awesome light show I had experienced in my life and then it started to pour. Like buckets. And guess what? It was BEAUTIFUL! That night I turned a new leaf (hahah, leaf, those rarely exist in AZ). I was going to find all the beautiful things Arizona had that Utah didn’t. Now don’t get me wrong, I still laughed when people told me I was lucky to be living so close to the mountains that I could go hiking everyday. Sorry, but those “mountains” you speak of are literally the size of the sledding hill at the local park back home. And those “hikes”? Those were more like a walk around the block. But on a more positive note, here are some of Arizona’s beauties I discovered with my change of attitude:

-Sunset: The myriad of colors those things produce on a nightly basis are breathtaking. And there are no mountains to get in the way of those. Nothing but a wide-open spectacular of the sun retiring for the day.

-Cactuses: While there are countless numbers of these pokey creatures ALL OVER the state, did you know they bloom? Yes, those painful plants actually produce a flower. And not just a simple flower, they are gorgeous.

-Bunnies: Everywhere. But cool nonetheless. There isn’t a lot of wildlife back home that come out at night to eat your grass. I mean, they’re a lot better than raccoons and skunks, but unfortunately cause just as many stains in the road as one another. I may or may not be a culprit.

-Coyotes:  Beautiful? No. But completely awesome and different? YES! Just a few months ago I was on a morning jog and was greeted by a coyote that thought it was being sneaky by running along side me concealed by the brush.

-Road Runners: Beep Beep. Enough said

-Lightning: I know I already mentioned this before, but it’s definitely worth mentioning twice. When it storms here, it is lightning non-stop. I could just stand outside and stare. But I don’t, that would be dangerous…

And much, much more.

This experience on finding the physical beauty in Arizona has been so refreshing to me, and the farther along my family moves in our medical journey, I’m realizing how metaphorical it is. There will be so many times where we are let down and things don’t go the way we planned or hoped them to go. But there is always beauty. Beauty exists everywhere. Sometimes we just don’t see it at first because we haven’t experienced that type of beauty before. Whether it’s finding the beauty of being alone, or changing jobs or specialties, I believe beauty can exist in every situation, we just have to open our eyes and hearts to see it.

And for those of you still dwelling on the fact that you have no idea what a haboob is or if it is an actual word, it is. They say it on the news, so it’s real. Now watch this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vQMuwRjI6s

Don’t you just want to go stand in that? I do. But husband says I can’t. I’ll get something called Cocci. Whatever THAT is.

Survival Stories: Don't Yell at the Flowers

I'm overdue in posting something here, which really hurts me more than anyone since writing is so therapeutic to me.  Chalk it up to a stressful home purchase, moving, and trying to get settled in before school starts on August 13, but I haven't sat down to write in months.

A conversation I had with my children over the summer has stuck in my mind, though, and I think it's applicable to nearly everyone, in every stage of life.  Our son is nine; he is a bright, funny, friendly kid, but he inherited impatience from both my husband and myself.  Not surprisingly, it is his only sibling, our four-year old daughter, who tests his patience the most.  One day, he was particularly exasperated with her, and he moaned to me, "Mommy, why can't she just grow?  Why does it take so long?  When will she change?"

Many replies ran through my head, but as I was picking the right one, I saw a pot outside by my parents' pool.  In it were some zinnia seeds my daughter and my dad had planted a few weeks before.  The stems were getting higher, the buds getting more ready to bloom, but they weren't quite ready.  I pointed this out to our son, L, and asked him if the flowers would bloom sooner if we went outside and yelled at them, the way he felt like yelling at his sister.  He laughed, and agreed that yelling at flowers to grow would only make us look foolish.  I told him that he should try thinking of his (fierce, strong, vocal, determined) sister as a flower.  She is growing, but in her own time.

I think L understood what I was trying to teach him, though patience with Little A continues to be a big growing point.  Since then, though, I've realized how often I've tried to yell at the flowers, so to speak.  From little things to big, I somehow have this notion that my timetable is the best, the only way to go.  No matter what your spiritual leanings, I think we can all agree that none of is in charge here.  Things happen that we can't control, people do things that let us down, change happens slowly or not at all...if we are the yelling-at-flowers type, we will get torn up inside.  It's a tiring and unhealthy way to live.

As I've walked beside my husband through medical school, a five-year residency, and now four years of private practice, there are so many things that I thought I wanted to change--how long it was taking, how hard it was, personal struggles, financial difficulties, uncertainty about big decisions--but when I look back, I can see that if those things, people, and situations had changed the way I thought they should have, then perhaps my husband and I (and our kids) wouldn't have grown and changed the way we were supposed to, either!

It's hard for L to have patience with his sister.  But I know he loves her, and I know that the patience he does show is growing, and it is developing deep kindness, endurance, humility, and a prayerful heart in this young boy.  Likewise, being married to a person pursuing a medical career is very hard, harder in some seasons than others.  But I know we love each other, I know his career is more of a calling than a choice, and I know that we are growing in amazing ways--as long as we stay quiet and stop trying to yell at the flowers!


I am a stay-at-home mom to a 9-year old/5th grade son and a nearly 5-year old/pre-K daughter.  My husband practices general ENT in the Sarasota, FL area.  We have been married for 13 years.

Married to Medicine

Married to Medical Innovation

When I married my husband, I was well aware I was marrying medicine. However, I had no idea I was marrying medical innovation as well.

While doctors and surgeons have differing styles of approaching medicine, I think, we, doctor’s wives would agree our DrHs are very intelligent, focused, and driven men. After all, completing medical school, residency, and fellowship is no simple task.

Like many others who enter into a medical career, my husband dove head first into medical school, residency, fellowship, and now professorship, with the sole intent to save lives and to give patients a better quality of life. He operates through rose-colored loupes.

Yet, making a difference in people lives, one patient at a time, was not fulfilling enough for my husband. His innovative spirit and mind worked even while his body rested, and eventually, after years of dreaming of a new medical technology, he found the right time, resources, and talent before him to bring his innovation to life.

There on our kitchen table, which was technically an outdoor teak picnic table, I stood and witnessed my husband and an engineer map out the medical device they would spend the next five years laboring over during their “free” time.

It was our first start-up, and, as any “first”, there was a hard and furious learning curve.

We learned the patent process. We learned why retaining multiple attorneys was a must. We learned why it was imperative to incorporate in the state of Delaware. We learned all about raising capital, and the difference between founder, preferred, and common stock. We learned the pros and cons of accepting rounds of funding. We learned the internal structure of a Board of Directors. We learned it was okay to stand our ground, and fight for our beliefs.

And, perhaps most importantly, we learned to trust our gut. 

Medical innovation is like medical training; they both require time, effort, focus, drive, and financial support. However, an interesting dichotomy comes to play when the medical doctor, the innovator, mixes together with deep pocket investors.  While they share the common goal of a successful endeavor, they mostly mix like oil and water.

While the doctor is innovating in an effort to better medical technologies to help patients, to make medicine simpler, less invasive, and find cures for hideous diseases, the venture capitalists are working to, well... capitalize on their investments.

It’s understandable. Like the doctor’s job is to cure, the investor’s job is to bring a return on investment. And, preferably, the highest return possible. These investors are educated in business, economics, finances, contracts, and legal-eze. Meanwhile,  doctors are educated in anatomy, histology, neurobiology, etc. There are no business classes within the medical school course catalog.

My doctor husband found himself in strange waters. Many times, he found himself on the opposite side of the table... and he sat there all alone. Medicine on one side of the table and investors on the other. Often times, the two sides did not congeal in agreement, and because the scale tipped in the investors favor, we found our hopes and wishes for the technology and business, being outweighed.

While the innovation aspect of business was thrilling, the business endeavor was a battle; an appreciated battle. Our investors were wonderful teachers, indoctrinating us in the world of biotechnology start-ups.

No longer green, no longer naive, no longer idealistic, but more realistic, and with more business savvy, my DrH continues innovating as I work beside him responsible for the business development, grant writing process, and marketing collateral of our new corporation and fresh, new technology.

Yes, I married medicine, but I married medical innovation as well.

Menée Hill is a freelance content writer and social media coach in her free time. In addition to being a doctor’s wife and CEO of her household, Menée’s strong background in marketing, business development, and real estate have lead her to her current position as a biotech start-up CEO. You can find more of Menée’s doctor wife stories at DoctorsWivesLiving.com . Follow Menée on Twitter.