We graduated from medical school last month and I feel more lost than when we started this journey four years ago. Contradictory, my husband feels more stable with the start of his residency upon us.

After two years into medical school life changed for us. We moved two hours away to complete our third year of rotations. And thus the crux of where my journey of being off-track began. I was a teacher and expecting my second child in August during third year. Finding a job in a new location and asking for maternity leave; just didn’t look good. So, we decided I would stay home. That was a decision I really wanted to happen. When I left my career I had moved into administration and it was beginning to be quite a struggle with taking care of the home front. So, I took homemaking on by the horns and vowed to become the best June Cleaver ever (dang type A personality).

I did what I knew best, I got involved….I got all of us involved. Each day was a full schedule. I thought to myself, "If I just keep busy I won’t get board." At the time I thought being a stay-at-home mom meant I would become boring and be sitting on the couch and eating bon bons all day. The kids and I ended up burnt out. I wasn’t a nice mom, I didn’t have emotional or physical time for my husband and I resented our decision for me to stay home. I had to go back to the drawing board and figure out how to be a stay at home mom. How did others make it look so fun? So easy? So full of worth?

From then on we cut out several activities. I kept our afternoons free at home so I wouldn’t be rushing in and attempting a hot meal exhausted and at the end of my rope. We just stayed home when my husband was off and did at-home activities. Things started looking better, I felt a relief and started to enjoy being home. So, that is how people made it look good; they embraced and made a flow for their family.

Then enters medical school to throw us for a loop again. We had two options for fourth year; the kids and I stay in a town we just moved to while my husband was gone for six months or we move to MI with my family and see my husband. So, this AZ based family scoured the REI annual sale for winter items and headed to the Midwest.

Living with family with two very active boys was a whole other adjustment within itself. We were so grateful for the ability to save money and see my husband, but I had to learn how to be a stay at home mom again. In a new environment, no friends, no playmates, no activities, no church, and no feeling of community and not even in our own home. I did my best to keep my boys in library time and we ended up joining a gym, which saved my life, but life was defiantly different. Instead of playing with my kids I constantly followed them picking up after them. I held my breath when they played inside because I was afraid they would break something. I was exhausted of just surviving.

Now, fast-forward to today; we are in our own home in our new town. As soon as we moved in we began renovating, painting, unpacking, you know the usual excited new homeowner things. We are in our own space in a place I know we will be for at least four years.

But why am I not happy? Why am I not over joyous with this victory over medical school and matching in a residency?

We sat and did our budget the other day (non joyous answer right there) and we decided I had to bring in some type of income. Specifically to help with the overhaul we did on the house and just to give us an emergency fund again. So, I took the bull by the horns again and updated my resume and pulled out my references. But I had no where to go, I had no place to land….what have I done in two years….what am I doing with my time? Oh sure I could get my teaching certificate in MI, but when I left education I was in administration and I am not sure I have it in me to climb the ranks again and go back to teaching in a school system.

I found myself asking, "Who am I" and answering "I am a wife of a doctor" and it made me mad. I am a wife of a doctor who has sacrificed her career, her things, her feeling of a community, of things I knew all to help my husband fulfill his dream. And you know what, I was kind of angry with this for a week. Like drink a bottle of wine angry. I don’t know if it was the five moves in four years or the feeling that I have been just barely making it by and for the first time in my life I didn’t know what to do next.

Then, my husband got an email and asked me to take care of it. And it dawned on me…I am a wife of a doctor who couldn’t have done it without me. All those moves, all those new cable set ups, quotes for moving, packing of boxes and still making a homemade dinner (most of the time), yeah that was me.

Then, I even thought I have two young boys that I keep alive every day and one that is starting to read…because of ME.

I know it is so easy to get wrapped up in what you have said good-bye to in order for your husband to become a doctor. But at the same time look at what you have learned to embrace. I am not afraid….of anything really, nothing. Any change, any upset I know I can handle…because I have handled A LOT. What I have realized is that I am not identified by my career or my income (or lack thereof one).

So, what am I? I am a wife of a doctor who loves her doctor and her children more than anything.

Celebrate the small success, don’t dwell on the good-byes and embrace the change!

To all you doctors wives out there….YOU can do this and YOU can find out even more who you really are in the process.

NAME: Stacie Johnson

PROFESSION: A practicing wife and stay at home mom

(Oh and P.S. I have started watching children to help with our budget. But I always ask myself "What do I want to be when I grow up?").

　

　

　

　

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

Survivor Stories: How Residency Interviews Became the Best Memory During the Training Years

It’s easy for a “survivor” to recall the tough times during medical school and residency.   The tough times are truly numerous.  But since I like to keep the survivor stories light, I recently asked my husband to recall the best memory of his training years.  Having been with him since graduate school (and before any of this medical journey) I had a feeling I knew the answer he would give.  “The trip with my dad.”  He said.  The same answer I expected he would give. Although I would have phrased it “Your residency interviews.”  It was the same trip, just a different perspective of the memory.

When we think about residency interviews as a medical student, our pulse quickens and palms get sweaty.  How many places do we have to apply to?  Did we choose the right away rotations?  Did we do enough away rotations?  How many interviews will be offered?  How many can I afford to attend?  What will my ranking list look like?

There are dozens of questions, and even more factors to complicate the matter.  We had the usual complicating factor – specific desired location.  At the time, we were in the Midwest for medical school, where my husband grew up.  But as a Colorado girl, I was used to warmer weather and much more sun.  I couldn’t handle another 3 years in the Midwest and desperately wanted to get closer to home.  

Here moves in the second complicating factor.  There are few programs in the Western states around Colorado (at least for ER – my husband’s specialty).  

And our last complicating factor is that my husband doesn’t fly.  As we neared the end of third year, we wondered how we would make this work.

Ultimately, my husband chose to do his fourth year elective months in Dec and Jan.  The electives he chose allowed schedule flexibility, so he was able to manage a 4 week break that placed Christmas through New Years near the end.  His Midwest interviews he scheduled around 3-day breaks in November and early December, and the Western states he planned during the 4-week trip.  His dad, a recently retired ER physician, joined my husband for the journey along with our 1-yr-old golden doodle. 

For the journey, I made my husband a binder with a map of the US on the front and individual pages for each of the locations.  I had areas for him to write down notes related to the program director/staff, hospital facilities, other residents, best areas to live, etc.  Each location had a two-page spread for him to capture thoughts.  I also included printed mapquests, hotel recommendations, things to see and do at their destinations and along the way.  I stayed back as I was working full-time and unable to take that much time off. Although a road trip this extensive is more suitable for the boys anyway.

On their way to interview destinations, they visited Mount Rushmore, the Black Hills, the White Sands, the border to Mexico, and Saguro National Park – to name a few of the highlights.  We rendezvoused in Colorado at Christmas with both of our families.  

Overall, by driving to all of his interviews, my husband developed a great feel for each of the areas we considered.  He was able to see the surroundings and outdoor activities (just as important to him as the program).  And, it made for interesting conversation during his interviews.  People would ask about the adventures, what sights had he seen, how our puppy was holding up through the travel (very well, by the way).  I would like to think it helped him be more relaxed, allowed his personality to show through, and helped him stand out in the memory of the rank list panel when the time came.  His father’s wisdom, as a former academic ER physician, was hugely valuable in determining questions to ask and how to process all he had learned through the interviewee experience.  It was a powerful trip between a father and a son, and one they speak of often to this day.  He matched at his number one, and we enjoyed spending the next three years continuing to explore our surroundings – as much as a residency schedule allows.

Moving to new places is like finding the right relationship

Moving to new places is like finding the right relationship

by: Whitney Crisafi
 

DrH and I just completed a move to the great Mid-West for his first year of residency. We'd lived on the West Coast, the East Coast, and the Caribbean, so seeing the Mid-West just made sense (plus, the program seemed like the perfect fit). While our great Buckeye state has its quirks, we are settling in quite nicely. We can almost see ourselves wanting to stay forever! But, don't get me wrong. I, personally, have not always been so adventurous. Growing up, I was ignorant of anything east of Utah and moving to the East Coast was not something I particularly took to. It was cold. And windy. And full of pot holes.

I'm not going to lie: it was easy to complain about the things I didn't like there. The Costco was always crowded. Our power went out for 14 (14!) days. For some reason the city hated dogs. It was easy to lose perspective. Adjusting to a new place is never easy. For some who had a hard time adjusting to where DrH went to medical school it was easy to complain about say, people getting mugged or the water going out or the grocery store not stocking their favorite licorice for months at a time (that was just me). And just when we felt somewhat settled, it was time to move again for The Match. All this moving made me want to have a nervous break down. 

However,  on a cold night as I was doing the dishes, I had a thought. Because my best thinking occurs over dirty plates and the lack of a dishwasher. 

Moving to new places is like finding the right relationship.

 Remember when you were 16 and you had your first "serious" boyfriend and your dad was just like, "What are you doing?! Don't you want to just date a lot of people and...find out, you know, the type of person you like....what you like and don't like? Or never date anyone ever?" 

Yeah, moving is like that.

I've lived in quite a few different places. My hometown was homogenous and my mind. was. blown. when I moved to California for the first time. Every time DrH and I move, there are different aspects of our new city to get used to. That's the tough and, ultimately, the awesome thing about moving so much.

You get to experience different "types" of cities. Different people, different cultures, different food, different weather, different attitudes, different religions. Somewhere along the way, you find you have preferences you didn't even know you had! You find yourself thinking where you want to live when you ultimately (finally) settle down. Whether a big city with tons of nightlife is your thing. Whether the most important thing to you is having nice weather year round (what did I say about staying in the Mid-West...?) or whether you don't mind having to put on a thousand layers when you go outside with your crazy dog who has to go to bathroom in complete, uninterrupted privacy. If you like having a car or think walking everywhere is awesome. If good quality grocery stores that stock the best peach cobbler ice cream in the world are a want or a need (Need!).

Or whatever.

The point is: it's a pretty amazing opportunity to live in so many different and new places and experience so many different cities. Even if you don't exactly enjoy where you're currently living. Even if you're basically at the mercy of The Match. It's a challenge. It changes you.

And when you finally find the right place and finally settle down in one spot (which we will. Someday!)...well, that...that will make all the other places you've lived seem pretty worth it. :)

(At least that's what I'm going to tell myself as I brave the Mid-Western winters.) 

Why I get on Stage in a Sparkly Bikini and Flex

Why I get on Stage in a Sparkly Bikini and Flex

 by: Emily Sanchez Otero

On Nov. 1^st, 2003, I was on stage doing my first Figure competition in Sacramento, CA.  Earlier that morning, I had driven the two hours north from Stanford, where I was a senior, a pre-med History major, a Pi Phi sister, and a very independent woman.  Period.  My boyfriend (DrH, now), was snapping pictures in the crowd, cheering.  He was an honors-bound, pre-med Biology major who had just finished his Medical School applications.  Smart as hell and hot, too.  But, right then, he was my #1 Fan.  And, I was in the spotlight for once.  It felt scary…and nice.  I got 13^th place.

Fast forward six weeks.  I was sitting in my 1998 forest green Saturn in the parking lot outside of Student Health, and I was crying.  The test was positive.  DrH was in St. Louis at his first Medical School interview and he was on the other end of my cell phone call—surprisingly calm.  “We’ll make it work,” he said.  “St. Louis seems like a great place for a family.” 

And that was it.  That was the end of me as an independent, sky-is-the-limit, might-be-a-doctor, too, intelligent, Woman.  Everything changed instantly.  And, eight months later, I was a mom living in the Midwest, married to a medical student, too uneducated (with my Stanford degree) to get a job that would pay enough for childcare.  I spent my days nursing and trying to figure out how to live on $1700 per month (DrH’s MSTP stipend).   There wasn’t a pretty wedding or a diamond ring—just a civil ceremony and a $40 band…that I bought for myself.  But, I knew that I was lucky to have snagged a future-DOCTOR.  So, I played the part of young, happy, new wife-and-mom.  I worked tirelessly to lose my baby weight and to figure out the ins-and-outs of WIC and Food Stamps and Medicaid.  Meanwhile, my new husband disappeared into his books, getting smarter and smarter and smarter…while I just got older.

In 2010, however, everything changed.  My youngest was two and potty trained, and with three kids under 6, we were DONE.  I had given up trying to live on nothing, as we had private Kindergarten and ballet lessons to pay for.  (It wasn’t our kids fault we had them too early; they would not lack any opportunity if we could help it.)  So, I was working as a personal trainer every free minute I had.  While the job was stressful and the hours painful (most people work out before or after work), it inspired me to get back to my own fitness goals—to get back on stage. 

Looking back, the idea of competing at that time was just short of insane.  Prepping for a fitness competition is 16 weeks of working out at least two hours, daily.  It is a constant ache of hunger, and never-ending stress—prep meals, do workouts, practice posing, repeat.  The process is hard for a single person with no kids.  For a working (50+ hours per week) mom-of-three, with a husband just about to start his away rotations (one of them would be 2,000 miles away for eight weeks); prepping for a show seemed impossible. 

And, it was…almost.  It was a messy, difficult, stressful, emotional experience that almost tore my marriage apart and made me question my ability to be a mom.  But, on July 9, 2010—seven years, 2,000 miles and three kids away from Sacramento—I stepped back onto the stage.  And, my DrH was there, just like the first time, cheering me on, supporting me like I had him through his MD/PhD years.  It felt so strange, so scary…and so good.  I got first place in Beginner Figure and Novice Figure, and I was hooked.  DrH carried both of my trophies around with him all night while we celebrated, and he bragged about me to anyone who would listen.  It was good for both of us.  It was healing; we felt like we were back on track.  He had felt bad for what life had taken from me, and I don’t think I realized it until that night.  But, there we were, on the other side of the hardest seven years of our lives…and we hadn’t just survived; we had killed it!

That, my dear Doctor wives, is why I am a Figure competitor.  It gives me something to think about besides “when is this going to be over?”  It distracts me from the impossible life that we have chosen and gives me a chance to make and follow my own dreams, now.  It makes me feel like I’m not “just getting older,” but rather, getting a little bit better.  But, most of all, it gives my marriage a brief moment where I am the one on stage.  My competitions allow my DrH a brief reprieve from being the star and give him the chance to be the supporter, the encourager, and my #1 Fan, again.  It turns out that we both needed that.

(And, hey, let’s be honest…the sparkly bikinis are super duper fun, too!)

Happy Wife, Happy Life, right?

Happy Wife, Happy Life, right?

by: Katie Allender 

Rank list. Oh yes, the rank list.  When it came time to rank anesthesia programs, I tried my best to relinquish control and allow my husband to “decide” where he preferred to go, where would be the best training, and ultimately where would be the best fit for us, as a newly married couple willing to try something “new.”  Every program had its strengths and weaknesses but big factors for us outside of the obvious were the design of the program, cost of living in the immediate area, the ability for me to find a teaching job, and things to do in the area (we love the outdoors!). After a few slight modifications, our rank list was complete; we still had a few reservations about some of our rankings, but in the end we opted not to stress about it because what should happen, would happen.

Well fast forward to Match Day and we matched at the University of Michigan. We were excited (elated, even!) at the opportunity to move and start our life together, just the two of us (or three of us rather, including the newly rescued dog).  I quit my teaching job and three days later we were packed up and moving 1,200 miles across from Denver to Ann Arbor.  We were so immersed with the move that we had almost forgot about the one reservation circulating around our move to Michigan.  While researching programs, we had learned that teaching jobs were exceptionally difficult to come by in and around Ann Arbor.  Before even moving, my husband was especially anxious at the idea of me quitting my desirable job back home and potentially not being able to find something out here. I assured him time and time again that we would make it work.  Well here we were in a new city scouting out teaching jobs, and his worst fear about moving came to reality.  I couldn’t find a job.  It never was about the money but more about my happiness and contentment with our new “home”; my husband’s biggest fear was that I would become resentful towards him.  Sure there were jobs to be had, but taking a job an hour or two away was not something that seemed all too practical given our situation.  It was hard for me to justify taking a position where I would be gone twelve or more hours a day (including drive time) coupled with a first year resident working brutally long, exhausting hours.  For a while I remained optimistic that something (anything!) would come along, but nothing ever did. I honestly think this situation became harder on my husband that it was on me.  All along, though, I had a “Plan B” – I would nanny! And quite frankly I was completely content with that decision. It wasn’t too long before I found an amazingly great family to nanny for. I love what I do and there are qualities about being a nanny that resemble teaching.  Do I miss teaching? Absolutely! Teaching is part of my identity.  But I also know that I’ll be back in the classroom before I know it; this current phase of our journey is a small hiccup in the grand scheme of things.

So, rather than choosing to be resentful toward my husband for “making me move,” I have chosen to make the most out of our time here.  I cannot say that it has all been unicorns and rainbows, but for the most part, our move has been a very rewarding, extremely liberating, and great for our marriage.  As any spouse or significant other in our situation can attest, there are times where I have felt lonely and just wished for a normal lifestyle; but with the help of an invaluable group of girlfriends who I have met out here, frequent happy hours, craft nights, book study meetings, and training for a half marathon (something I have desired to do for years), there is less time to dwell on my loneliness.  I make time for my husband when I know he will be off, but sitting around and waiting for him to get home will not make this process any less lonesome, less stressful, or go by any quicker.  Going out and getting involved is the best piece of advice I can give anyone in a situation remotely similar to ours. Do something you have always wanted to do! Take a class, learn a new hobby, travel to new areas, or join a club.  Meet new people! Enjoy growing in your relationship with your spouse!  Instead of viewing residency as something we do for our spouse and his/her career, I can only suggest that you take this time for yourself, too; it’s not easy doing what we do, but what we can control is making sure that this part of the journey is a positive one, one that will only last a short while.

I couldn’t have survived medical school and now residency without practicing these simple steps

Having three kids under age four and a husband in PGY2 is no small feat. Some days, life is awesome. My DrH actually gets to come home when he says he will, helps with the kids, cleans up after dinner and gives me a foot rub while we watch TV. We call these “Golden Days” and we savor them. But more often than not, life is a struggle.

I could write a book on why savoring the Golden Days will save your sanity and marriage, but I think that point is fairly universally understood. What isn’t universal is how to cope with the crappy days; because no two people’s crappy days are the same. Here is the advice I’ve learned so far (and wish I would have gotten earlier in this journey!).

Your DrH would rather be at home. Yes, he’s gone all the time. But he’d rather be at home with you than at work. That’s just the way of things. His constant absence from your life isn’t because he doesn’t like you; it’s because he likes you enough to provide for you. (I know that we all know this. But as women, we’re emotional beings and have to remind ourselves to be rational about things!)
Learn To Be Independent. I finally found happiness and sanity in this crazy life of residency when I realized that I needed to implement and adhere to a schedule, regardless of my DrH’s schedule. At first, I’d let the kids stay up until 10pm to see Daddy. But the next day we’d all be cranky and irritable. Yes, putting the kids to bed at 8pm means they may go several days without seeing their dad. But it also means that they’re respectful, kind, easy to get along with and much less prone to temper tantrums during the 12+ hours I’m with them. If my husband happened to come home early, we consider it a happy surprise and we’re all overjoyed. If not, at least I know that tomorrow won’t be Grouch City.

Recharge Your Batteries. Walk the aisles of target. Lock yourself in your bedroom and paint your toenails while chatting with a friend. Go out to dinner with your mom. Whatever gets you out of the house and away from the kids; away from the dishes in the sink and the Mount Everest sized pile of laundry for a few hours. When you return to face reality, you’ll feel recharged, refreshed and reenergized to tackle the tasks at hand.

Take breaks. Let the dishes sit for a few hours. Skip that project you’d planned on getting done today. The way to enjoy your kids is by getting on the floor and playing with them. Even the best laid plans of educational play, sensory exploration or science lessons devolve into tickle fights and indoor soccer. But it’s the tickle fights that they’ll remember anyway, so let it slide. That being said:
Pick Your Battles. With your husband and kids, especially. If the problem will go away by a change of your attitude, then let it go. There are so many real problems, so many bigger fish to fry, that the little stuff has to be ignored. Recognize also that one person’s mountain is another’s molehill. What is unacceptable behavior to you may be par for the course for someone else. Only you can decide which hills you’re willing to die on.

Have Sex. Often. And with gusto. It’s a great stress reliever and brings you closer as a couple. It’s easy to forget to be intimate when you’re both so exhausted, but it’s important to schedule one on one “Mommy and Daddy Time”.

Act As A Team. I tell my three year old “We’re all on the same team. We’re Team Westbrook and we cheer for each other.”. On occasion, I’ve had to remind my DrH that I’m on his team. We’re stronger together than we are apart, and neither of us could function as we do now without the other. He’s gone all day working so that I can raise the kids and run the house. I run the house and raise the kids so he can be at work all day to both advance his career and provide for the family. We’re equal partners on the same team, working toward the same goal.

Be Kind. Really, is there anything more simple and yet more important? Stress is so quickly accompanied by short tempers, which can lead to compounding the problem. As I tell my children: it’s important to be kind, even when you don’t feel like it. Being snotty (while satisfying at times) serves no purpose. You’d be amazed what a difference being polite will make. I’m still working on this one!

There you go, ladies. I hope this advice hits home with some of you! These are the things that I’ve had to learn in my 5 years of marriage. I couldn’t have survived medical school and now residency without practicing these simple steps! Good luck! -Jackie Westbrook

Residency Roundup: The Next Step!

What next step is awaiting your medical family this June or July??

In June, my DrH transitions from being a junior resident to a senior resident! We finally get to say good riddance to primary call! 

No more attempting to sleep at the hospital waiting for crazy things to happen!  As a PGY4 and chief (PGY5) resident, we can plan DrH sleeping in our home every night!  Of course with this change the nightly back-up call pages will begin and our sleep could be interrupted... but at least we can rely on seeing DrH more!  

The preparation of the next two months has my head spinning: finishing up PGY3 (including the remaining 14 on-call night shifts), Child #1 finishing Kindergarten, Child #3 entering the world in 3 weeks, deciding if a fellowship is in our future, and watching our Med school friends and family prepare to move to ridiculously far away residencies.  

Each of you has your own preparations to make as this transition approaches. Good luck and enjoy what you can!  Brighter horizons are ahead.

Happy Spring!
Cami

Residency Roundup: Run A Match

Last Tuesday was DrH's residency program's final interview day for the entering 2014 class!  I was able to attend their applicant dinner that evening and met six of the interviewees.  I was impressed by their kindness and hope them each a successful match.

The feelings that surface during this time of anticipation, pressure, chaos, excitement... are exhausting, and I empathize with each applicant.  This year, more than the previous two, has me on edge for the match.  This is mainly due to the fact my Brother-in-law is eligible for the 2014 match, which could send/assign my sister and her family anywhere!

I'm sure many of you MS4 families are having to explain over and over again what exactly is 'the Match'. While reading the nrmp.org site I found the following information helpful.

• The Matching Process- a general synopsis. 
• Run a Match- a document describing the process of algorithm that matches each MS4 and residency spot.  My family would have found this interesting during our match...and would have saved them from hearing my simplified analogies;)

Here are some important dates to have marked on your calendar (if not already!):
February 26, 2014- Rank Order List Deadline.  Must complete and certify your list by 9:00pm ET.  Three years ago we decided to put a preliminary list in the system to avoid any last minute computer glitches and then updated the list with minor changes the day or two before the cutoff.

• Interesting facts on Rank Order List Length. 
• My previous post that outlined our match list. 

March 17, 2014- Matched?!? Applicants receive notification of a successful match!  Or the beginning of the SOAP process for unmatched MS4 students.

March 21, 2014- MATCH DAY!!  www.nrmp.org even asks for pictures of the 'Match Face'!   Make contact with your program director or residency coordinators to show your excitement!  Congratulations!

If your DrH has previously match and you have any pearls of wisdom please share!
Best of Luck!!
Cami

Night Float Sucks

Night Float Sucks                                                                                                                                       by: Guest Author  Kelly Adams

The dreaded Night Float. There is really no other way to sugar coat it...it just sucks. They come home exhausted and need sleep but you haven't seen them so secretly you just want to keep them up and have adult conversation for 5 minutes. And it doesn't end after just one night it goes on and on!

It's just horrible!

You don't get to see them, they don't get to spend time with the kids, and overall everyone is cranky! Our son is now 15 months old and DrH would get home in the morning about the time he would need to go down for his morning nap, then when DrH got up the little guy would be down for his evening nap...And no offense, but I am not waking up a sleeping baby just so you can hug him and leave me with a crying cranky toddler!

I also stay home with our son so DrH would need to sleep in the same teeny tinny house that our screaming toddler was running around crazy in! It would stress me out to no end so I end up trying to stay out of the house all day. Have I made it clear how much fun this is?!

Our first month of night float was horrible. I remember crying a lot. I took the baby and we left for about half the month and went to visit my parents. But it was still so hard to be away from DrH, and he was so pitiful not being able to see us. So the second time around I was determined to do something to make it suck less. Granted it was still awful but I feel like we handled it a little better the second time around.  These are a few thing we did to lessen the pain:

1.) We talked a lot. We talked, texted, FaceTimed, etc. any time he had a break or a few seconds to spare so we could stay connected. FaceTime is a great invention and he really liked seeing our son interact and show off for him:) I would also send lots of pictures and videos whenever our little guy did something cute or funny.

2.) We ate dinner with him almost every night. This may or may not be possible for you depending on the program but it's worth a shot if it is. We just needed some form of normalcy so I would either cook or pick dinner up and take it up to the hospital with the toddler in tow. Granted some nights he was too busy for us to eat together so I fixed him a plate and we left. But on the nights it did work and we could have 30 min of a normal family meal time, it made all the difference. DrH got to see his son and hug on him for a bit and he got a good meal. I tried to cook his favorite meals so he had something to look forward to-he loves pot roast and its super easy:). We have a wagon so I would load up the wagon with the food, strap in my son, and wheel it up to the residents lounge for dinner. It's definitely not the easy way to do dinner but it was worth it.

3.) Weekends were off limits. I made sure the weekends were stress free and had zero commitments. It was time to sleep and relax as a family. We took our son to the park, went out to dinner, watched football, etc. For two days I wanted him to be relaxed and stress free...as much as possible.

4.) On the weekends we have some us time. We put the baby down by 8pm so that gives us some time to cuddle on the couch, eat ice cream, and watch a movie. I'm not the needy type but having down time with my husband really helps me get through the challenges of residency.

5.) Lastly, and so very important...I do things just for me. You spend so much time alone during this time that it's important to do things just for you, to make you happy. For example, I get really absorbed in books and tend to block off the rest of the world when I am reading, so this is a perfect time to get a good book. I also pick up my favorite ice cream at the grocery store, I record all the "chick" TV shows that he hates to watch, or I might talk for an hour on the phone with a good friend and not feel guilty about it .  Basically I find things to get excited about to make the time go by and suck less. 

So that's it. Nothing mind blowing.  We have out next night float in February and you can be sure I will post about how much it sucks...because it just does.

What do you do to make night float bearable?

Residency Roundup: Interview Prep

Welcome to the Residency Interview Season!! 

 Hopefully, you are successfully juggling the quick responses to offers, the calendar filling up, purchasing travel plans, all while continuing MS4 rotations. 

I've compiled a list on how to prepare for residency interviews. 
DrH should bring this information to each interview!

• Program background- Basic information on FRIEDA https://freida.ama-assn.org/Freida/user/viewProgramSearch.do.  Go the the programs website for more details, how long the program has been active, number of faculty, current research emphasis. 
• Bios for the faculty and specifically for whom your DrH will be interviewed by.  My DrH read each bio while flying to the new location.  
• Bring copies of CV, cover letter, and research.  Many programs didn't want separate copies...but some appreciated them.
• QUESTIONS!! - There is a bunch of time set aside for questions.  Make your list based on what is most important to you and your family.  I recommend between 4-10 good questions ranked in order of importance.
• Home or in-house call
• Clinic hours 
• Average Cases for the current residents
• Mentoring program
• Research requirements
• Vacation requests
• Locations- housing, schools, recreational activities
• HR- Medical, Vision, Dental insurance? Parking? Food?
• More ideas-  https://www.aamc.org/download/77936/data/residencyquestions.pdf

This is another great list!! 

http://www.ama-assn.org//ama/pub/about-ama/our-people/member-groups-sections/minority-affairs-section/transitioning-residency/the-residency-interview-making-most-it.page

The AMA page lists possible interview questions.  Such as 'Why did you choose this specialty?" or 'What are your strengths?'  We typed each question with DrH's answer and we rehearsed his response.  Obviously, you cannot predict what question they will use, but this practice will help.  Here are some other possible question your DrH will be asked. http://som.georgetown.edu/docs/2012%20Handout%20Residency%20Mock%20Interviews.pdf

Warm wishes to all MS4 families.

Cami

If you have some additional interview prep advice please leave a comment below:) 

Darlin’ you’ve got to let me know…should I stay or should I go?

My journey of loss and life, from bread winner, to reluctant stay at home mom

by: Sarah Vaca

Anybody that knows me knows that I strive on stress. I am an over achiever to the 10^th degree. I was that girl… president of my class in HS, valedictorian, cheerleading captain, and wannabe professional ballerina. In college, I continued to half-heartedly pursue my ballet career, I was sorority recruitment chair, served on student government, volunteered, worked a 20 hours/week, and maintained a superb GPA with 18+ credit hours of science courses, and still found ample time to have fun. I graduated from college and joined the real world, where absolutely none of that mattered. I married my college sweet heart weeks after my graduation, gave up my spot at a prominent PA school and moved to a rural town 3 hours from home for my new groom to start medical school. The “me-centric” life that I knew and loved was over. I waited impatiently to see if I would make it off the waiting list and be granted an out of state spot in the PA class at my husband’s medical school…I wasn’t, at least not then. This new, slow paced life depressed me. My husband was busy studying. Most would not envy such tedious hours spent at the library, but I longed to be learning and I desperately missed the collegiate environment. Few of his classmates were married, but I became friends with the med students and their significant others, but even still, I felt like something in my life was missing. I found a job right away that was far from my dream job at the local 20-bed hospital. I worked as sort of a jack of all trades aid. I drew blood, did typical CNA/secretary work, helped educate new moms, and became very active in a research project. I didn’t love my job, but it was the only thing I had to keep me busy, so I gave it my all. I was quickly handed new responsibilities and went from aiding research to being the primary author. But still, something was missing.

Soon, I found myself staying late to help when new moms came in to deliver. I adored that new life and the opportunity to teach and snuggle a perfect, brand new baby. I loved helping with deliveries and seeing new moms as they met their child for the very first time. Driving home one night, it suddenly dawned on me: I desperately wanted a baby. My husband and I come from large families and both knew we wanted children, but never discussed when. I knew I wanted them sooner than later…after all, I had changed my career path in college from a MD track to a PA track when my mother told me that if my then boyfriend and I were both going to be doctors, I should probably freeze my eggs. I was young and my husband was a medical student. We were buried in student loan debt and were just barely getting by financially as it was. My career was blossoming, and I still had dreams of a graduate education. However, absolutely none of this seemed as important as my need to procreate. I approached my husband with the idea, and though at first he was absolutely shocked, after a week of pondering, he said he thought now was as good of a time as any other. We weren’t going to get less busy, and if we waited for that moment to come, we could wait forever.  It took a short two months for the positive test to come and we were thrilled to announce our pregnancy. Our family was shocked, but thrilled also. I was horribly nauseous and hardly glowing, but I was extraordinarily happy… happier still to find out that we were expecting not one, but two babies. As a twin myself, I was over the moon. At my 16 week appointment, my small town family practice physician was concerned that I was losing, not gaining weight. I was still extraordinarily nauseous. She wanted to do an ultrasound and some blood work. I obliged. I knew immediately something was wrong. To make a very long and very sad story short, one baby was actually a molar pregnancy, an egg that, instead of the normal two sets of chromosomes, has one or three sets and was rapidly dividing in my uterus. The other baby was normal. The molar pregnancy was not compatible with life and was a large danger to the other, normal baby. At 23 weeks, the inevitable happened, and I lost my first baby.

I was unbearably depressed. I still looked pregnant, I still felt pregnant, but I had nothing to show for it. Strangers asked me when I was due and I would burst into tears in a public place. My family and coworkers were supportive and my husband tried to be. He didn’t know what to do with me. I had never been depressed, and he just kept waiting for me to snap out of it. I ended up getting into PA school, something he thought would bring me joy, but it didn’t. My employer was impressed with my research and wanted me to stay, but they really needed someone with a license to carry on the research. They offered to pay my way through an accelerated nursing program and some graduate statistics classes so that I could extend my research. I obliged and started to feel some twinges of happiness. This job had just sort of fallen in my lap and it was turning out to be everything I wanted it to be. I could study, teach, research, write, and serve a clinical role, and best of all, distract myself from what I really wanted…a baby.

We moved to a bigger city, planned for me to start school that January, and I began to expand my research project while my husband continued to study. He commuted back to our medical school town for his second didactic year of medical school.  Suddenly, I started feeling terribly nauseous again. I was terrified that the molar cells that had been eliminated for the last 6 months were back. I had a positive Hcg test, and I prepared myself for another round of methotrexate. In the ultrasound room, I prayed, please, no white snow on that machine. There was no snow, but there was that flashing light...a heartbeat. I was pregnant. I was astounded…terrified…and totally joyful. I called my husband who was in the hospital’s library studying. He came and saw that screen and cried the very first happy tears I ever saw him cry. I was eight weeks pregnant. Our child was to be due just 5 months after I was to start school.

We decided to move in with our in-laws to save money and still allow us both to pursue our educational dreams and afford to start our family. This proved a difficult, but a doable sacrifice to finally hold that baby and have the career I so very much wanted. School started and everyone was shocked to see that I was going to undergo this intense program while 5 months pregnant. I excelled, even when I got placed on bed rest and fellow class mates had to roll me in a wheel chair around my clinical sites. Our son was breach and had a nuchal chord that was preventing him from turning. At 35 weeks, 6 days, I went into labor. My son was born via c-section at exactly 36 weeks and he was absolutely perfect. He was healthy, strong, and instantly had our hearts. We took him home two days later. He came to class with me the next week. He nursed while I studied, and my husband and I frequently read aloud from our text books to put him to sleep. We joked that he would be 10 steps ahead if he ever went to medical school as he had been studying the human body since infancy. Life was beautiful. I graduated on time and returned from work, and although it broke my heart to walk out the door and leave my son behind, I loved the joy on his face each time I returned. Also, working cheered me… the intellectual stimulation, the encouraging feeling of making a difference in someone’s life, and even the mere distraction helped me keep my mood up when I was frustrated with a new phase in my child’s life or missing my husband... I never missed a single developmental milestone and being gone made me cherish each moment I had with my little family.

Match day came and we knew that residency would mean changes. Big changes. We were to be moving to a brand new state 4.5 hours from the nearest family member. I knew that this new stage of life would require me to count on doing all of the child care myself. Because we decided to buy a house, it would also require me to take on the majority of the care of our home. We made our two busy lives work in our medical school town by me working nights and enlisting the help of willing grandparents, aunts, uncles and friends to care for our child while I slept. I frequently went without a full “night’s” sleep and sometimes went without any at all. I knew this situation could not be replicated in our residency town and struggled to find child care and a new job that would work for our new life situation. After a particularly stressful week, my husband suggested that I just stay home. After all, his income would replace mine, and we were doing quite well financially. He said he did not know if he could handle the stress of my job in addition to his. I honestly had never pondered this option, nor considered that my stress brought him stress, but my immediate response was “no.” I’ll be honest, I had absolutely no idea what stay at home moms did. I imagined gossiping with women I didn’t really like and watching daytime TV. The idea sounded horrendously borin. I liked working and I really, really liked the idea of us having two incomes at last! I had this brilliant plan that we would live on the same budget (our house was actually less expensive than our previous rent) and use my income to pay down debt ASAP. I felt confident that I could find some sort of job that would be regular hours and a day care that we could trust before we ever even moved. I didn’t.

The move came and that first month of living in our new home, we were both home. I was so thankful for that time together. There was so much to do, and I was grateful that we could help our son adjust and settle in without either of us having to rush to work. When my husband started his program and spent his first week working exactly 81 hours, I had another rush of relief… how would I do all of this and work full time? However, I continued my job search until one frustrated day, after snapping at my husband for no real reason, he said, “I think you need to stop looking for a job. Do me one favor, just wait until December.” In the moment, this infuriated me. Who was he to tell me what to do with my life? I already left everything I knew to follow him here, if I wanted a job, I would get one. But, sanity hit, and I realized he was right. He was stressed and any stress that I brought to the table pushed us over the edge of what we could handle. In addition, we were trying for another child also, something that wasn’t happening near as easily as we thought it would. When it did happen, this would be a big life stress. Why would I get a job just to hopefully go on maternity leave? Would I even want to work with a brand new baby? Would it be profitable? I wanted to want to stay home… but I couldn’t make myself love the idea and this made feel extraordinarily guilty. I wanted this child so badly; shouldn’t I want to be with him all day, every day?

 I vowed to take his advice. Just stay home. Ha,” just stay home” is a ridiculous phrase. I was so wrong about what stay at home moms do! I work an absurd amount harder now than I ever did in the ICU… and I frequently never sat down, even to pee, for 13 hours straight in my ICU days. Now, I work 24/7 with pretty much no break. I have to do lists that are never done and I have no one to take over as my shift is never over. Just recently, when a nasty GI bug hit me, I realized I no longer have the ability to call in sick… I felt horrendous and desperately wanted to curl up in bed, but I had nobody to take over for me. When this same bug hit my son, I learned that I still get the pleasure of cleaning up every type of gross body fluid imaginable. That was not something I missed about the ICU! When, in a period of five minutes, my son puked on the couch and then pooed in the tub, I began to miss the ready-access I had to latex-free gloves.  I once left him outside in our fenced in back yard for a brief moment alone so I could go use the ladies room and returned to find our gate open and him on the other side of the street checking the mail. This made me miss always having a second nurse around to look out for me if I needed a second. It also brought the harsh reality that if someone were hurt due to my negligence it would be worse than losing a license; it would mean losing my child and the fault would be 100% mine. 

Since staying home, I find myself losing my temper with him far more than I ever did when I was working. My son is two, and like most two year-olds, he is very busy. He is very strong willed, and sometimes, after a particularly difficult day, I watch the clock waiting for 5 pm when I find it acceptable to have a glass of wine. I love my child, but I don’t always enjoy playing trains for hours on end when I have a to-do list a mile long waiting for my action. I will never love chasing him around with his clothing, literally begging him to be still so we can get dressed and get out the door. I don’t like discovering the food I make him being fed to the dog or thrown on the floor, and temper tantrums make me want to throw myself on the floor and scream. One minute, I find myself swelling with pride at his verbal ability, and the very next, wanting to a dig a hole in the ground and disappear with his words (namely when he clearly stated, “You’re fat, don’t see me” to my overweight relative at my grandfather’s funeral). When he insists on using the potty (and immediately demanding a marshmallow when he sprinkles 3 tiny drops into the pot) and ten minutes later pees through the undies he demanded to wear and onto my couch, I find myself trying not cry.

The constant power struggle is exhausting and I give in to him on things I know I shouldn’t. He drinks too much chocolate milk, watches too much TV, and eats too much macaroni and cheese. Every day is a battle for independence and I am pretty sure I am not gaining any ground. Our days are filled with mundane tasks and happy little moments. Yet, I still find myself checking out job postings and longing to apply. As much as I love answering his constant questions and his extraordinary joy at the tiny things in life, like getting stopped at a train track, I will probably always miss my old life.  I don’t really believe that I was designed to do this forever, but I am grateful that I get to do it now. After all, when in my life will I be able to do this again? My son will never be two again. I will never get to hear him “vrooming” his trucks down the hall and see him chasing the dog outside. I will get one opportunity to answer the questions, “how do plants grow?, “What does special mean?, and “Where is God?” It is hard, thankless work, but somehow, there are moments of unbelievable gratification, brief glimpses that tell me, “You’re doing alright.” Advice from wonderful women in Side by Side (a national organization for Christian medical wives) and women from the Facebook LDW group made me realize that it takes time to grow into this new role and I must take time for myself. I do have some spare moments, if I let myself. My floors don’t have to be spotless, my bathrooms don’t have to be scrubbed, and I don’t need to cook a gourmet meal every night. I was encouraged to join some women’s groups and have and the interaction with the women I have met is absolutely essential to helping me maintain my sanity. I have started to carve out a small amount of time to do something I want to do at least once a week, rather than making time to do only the things I feel obligated to do. This is no small feat for me, as I am usually overwhelmed with the obligatory tasks, and find it near impossible to squeeze anything else in. However, I have discovered that moments I carve out painting something for our walls or working on a scrap book, taking an excessively long shower, painting my nails, or reading the New York Times bring enough happiness and sense of self to make each moment “wasted” worth the small stress that having foot prints on my wood floors brings me. By no means do I consider myself an expert in mommyhood. In fact, I would like to meet the woman who does. But each day, I learn and grow. Some days, I can’t wait until that promised date in December. Then the next day comes, and my child wakes up and tells me, “Mommy, you are my princess,” and I pray that I get to do this forever.