it's only five years: things not to say to a resident's wife

I get this a lot.

You probably know by now that residency is hard for me (and I'm not the one who is a resident.)

So maybe people don't know what to say when I complain (again) about residency.

And they try to cheer me up (?) by suggesting that it is only five years long. Only five years and then the hard part will be done. Only five years and then the living is easy.

Residency is only five years long.

But I just can't get behind the "yeah, your life sucks, but it's only five years of it". Five months, maybe. One year, maybe.

the power of the pager

beep beep beep.

Anyone married to a spouse with a pager just shuddered.

I remember when my husband first received his pager in Medical school. I thought it was kind of cool when it first went off. It made the idea that he was one day going to be a real doctor more of a reality. If he didn't feel important wearing it, at least I felt important for him.

The novelty has long since worn off.

And while hate is a very strong word, and my mom told me never to use it, I'm pretty sure I hate my husband's pager.

This obnoxious, electronic, little piece of plastic that has so much control over our lives.

What I dislike the most is the unpredictability. I don't want to not include my hubby in my plans for the day/evening. But at the same time, I don't want to make plans, only to be disappointed when the darn thing goes off and he has to head to the hospital.

Inevitably I end up planning nothing for the days he's on call, yet secretly hoping that maybe we could do such and such if he doesn't get paged. And then when he does get called in, I'm disappointed that my secret plans were ruined.

It's Murphy's law: If we do make tentative plans, he will get paged and have to head to the hospital. If we don't make any plans, or if I make plans to do something without him, chances are he'll have a quiet day at home.

And did I mention that the Doctor's pager seems to be about 5 decibels louder than any one else's pager? Seriously. As if it wasn't ornery enough in its simple existence, it feels the need to announce its importance to our entire neighborhood with every high pitched bleep.

I knew when my hubby started out in medicine that a pager would be a part of lives. I just think that I had glamourized it in my head. You know, getting paged and having to race off to the hospital to save someone's life. But the pager goes off for many many different reasons when you're on call for the entire province. And none of these reasons seem to phase my hubby. Like a lot of things in this adventure known as residency, I didn't really know what we were in for. And like always, the Doctor is amazingly more accepting and tolerant of the annoyances in our life.

I'm struggling to come to terms with the existence of the pager in our lives, knowing that this small square monstrosity is stuck with us for a while. But it's difficult. Perhaps as the Doctor's call load lightens a little bit, and the high pitched bleeping becomes less frequent, I'll be better able to cope.

Or maybe once these crazy pregnancy hormones disappear I'll just be better able to cope. period.

i want my mom

This week has been a bit of a tough one.

I'm just about 34 weeks pregnant and have started nesting like a madwoman. My house never seems to be clean enough or organized enough. We are in the middle of getting a 'big girl' room ready for the Bean, and nothing seems to be happening quickly enough for me.

The Doctor just had 5 days off over Easter and so we got the Bean's new room painted (twice, since we didn't like the first colour). Her 'big girl' bed and dresser arrived and the hubby put those together. the mattress is on the bed, sheets are washed and ready to go.

And still I panic.

I want everything done now. I want the shelves to be hung, the toy box to be built, the little details finished. I want the Bean to be transitioned into her new room, well before her sibling arrives to take over her current space.

Oh I realize that none of this matters. Really. The baby could arrive tomorrow (please don't) and we'd be "fine".

But I am still freaking out.

The Doctor is working on a big presentation that he has to give at grand rounds next week, and so I am trying to get as much (okay, everything) done without him. The Bean is of course trying to be "helpful" and so every task seems to take nine times as long as it should.

And all this unnecessary stressing makes me want my mom.

I lay in bed last night after an exhausting day of getting lots done, yet feeling as though nothing got done (my to-do list obviously over-ambitious) and I cried. Hubby asked me what was wrong and like a 5-year old, I blurted "I miss my mom".

I'll blame it on my hormones. Because I can.

You see, my mom is amazing. She is like a cross between Mike Holmes and Debbie Travis. If she were here, the Bean's room would be done. The shelves that I don't know how to hang would be up on the wall. The toy box that I will not attempt to put together on my own would now be built. My floors would be washed. She would confirm my wall decor choices.

And I would be calm.

Because my mom is a get-er-done kind of woman. I on the other hand, am a terrible self-motivator and tend to get overwhelmed when looking at my long list of things to accomplish. But I know if my mom was here she'd say "let's get this done" and we would.

It is (hormonal) times like these that I am reminded yet again that living so far away from your family sucks. In all honesty, it is not only my mom that I miss. Not only her that I want near me. I have a whole slew of talented and hard working family members that would be here in an instant if we lived close and I were to call them up and ask.

So for now, I'm trying to be patient. I'm waiting until after next Wednesday, when the Doctor will be finished his presentation. And then I have a rather large honey-do list for him.

And I'm going to visit my family. This weekend the Bean and I will take what is probably the last flight just the two of us, and spend four days with my mom and dad and sister. While nothing will be accomplished to help prepare for this baby, I know that just being with my mom and talking things through will help.

And hopefully, when I return home I'll be calmer and less stressed about what needs to get done.

But I'll still miss my mom.

me and my momma
february 2012

when to draw the line

We were talking not that long ago with friends of ours about our "portfolios". The things in our households that he always takes care of or she always does. It was a light hearted conversation that had us laughing. But it led to a more serious discussion between my hubby and I later as the Doctor and I came to realize that a vast majority of the items in my husband's portfolio had somehow made their way into mine.

How this happened, neither of us are quite sure. I certainly didn't sneak into his folder and steal his jobs to bolster my own portfolio. Trust me, it's full enough. Perhaps some of them I took willingly from him, and filed them neatly (and alphabetically) into my own. But others are shoved in there, crumpled and out of order.

Can I take care of things on my own? Heck, yes I'm capable.

But do I want to? Or should I have to? This is the more difficult question to answer.

I don't resent my husband for studying hard or working long hours. But there are times that I definitely do hold some resentment. To be quite honest, there are times that I wish our family ranked higher on his list of priorities. There are times that I wish I ranked higher on that list.

I get it. He's a resident. A student-doctor. He is learning a highly skilled profession that deals with people's health and lives. It's serious. No duh he has to study. I wouldn't want someone operating on me without reading a thing or two about the procedure, right?

So the hard part is knowing where to draw the line between needing him here with me and wanting him here.

The tricky thing is helping him to find balance when all he can focus on is that next exam or that new surgical skill he has to master.

I know it's going to get better. As the Doctor repeats procedures and becomes more comfortable with his skills and knowledge, he won't have to study as much. His call load will eventually lighten and someday, one day, he'll be able to have more control over his hours. From what I hear, second year residency is one of the busiest years of training.

But right now I feel as if it's going to be a never-ending cycle. And if we don't find a balance now, maybe we never will. There will always be something to study for, a paper to read, a surgical procedure to learn or improve.

I love the handsome, intelligent, fun-loving man I married so much. I feel like I can never spend enough time with him.

So for me, I'm trying to determine how much I can share. How understanding and flexible can I be before enough is enough? Before our marriage suffers for it?

I am so thankful that my hubby and I can be open and honest with each other. I really make an effort not to whine and complain to him about the long hours he spends away from us. Especially the ones he can't help. But I do let him know how I'm feeling. When it is getting to be too much. When he needs to take a break. If not for his sake, then for mine.

We're getting there. We're learning how to make it work. And once our new baby arrives, we'll have to figure it out again.

But that's what marriage is.

That's what being a family is all about.

This past week I drew the line.

We took a much needed break from our everyday lives. We went to Cuba for a week's vacation. We went to an all-inclusive resort. All our meals were prepared for us. Our room was cleaned every day for us. The beach was beautiful. And our time was our own. Time together. Time as a family. Does it get any better than that?

We also made a decision to invite my parents to join us. They helped to take care of the Bean and she even had 4 sleep-overs in their room! The Doctor and I got some much needed time alone. I even got to sleep in (kinda'). And we took long walks by ourselves on the beach.

the Bean and her Oma and Opa

I really can't express how refreshing this holiday was. Did my hubby study on the beach almost every day? Well, yes. But he was beside me. I was reading a novel and usually the Bean was napping in her shade tent. I didn't care. And did I mention it was on a beach with the sun shining down on us?

I feel now that I can make it through this next month while the Doctor prepares for his huge exam at the beginning of April. It was a break we both needed. It was the uninterrupted time together that I so desperately craved.

perspective

When my hubby gets home from work, it's customary for us to ask about each other's days. You know, "how was it?", "what did you do?", "did you eat?" (okay, that last one is me making sure my hubby is taking care of himself, since it's often difficult for him to grab 10min to eat something).

I love hearing about the Doctor's day. Probably because I think his days are infinitely more interesting than mine. And luckily I am not squeamish, and also think the surgeries he's performing are "cool". He, in turn, is always eager to hear about what I've been up to, especially if I've spent the day with the Bean. I know the little things she does bring a huge smile to his face, so I try to remember as many of them as I can.

Talking about our days helps us feel connected. To know what our partner has been up to and to know what their state of mind is at the end of a day.

Occasionally one of us will have a "bad" day. My husband is a great listener and a wise man. I know that for me, talking through that bad day with him can help me vent frustrations, it can help me sort out exactly what made it bad and why I'm feeling the way I am.

And occasionally, something like this happens:

hubby: "how was your day?"

me: "ugh. it was terrible. i wore the wrong underwear and they drove me crazy all day; i got stuck on the highway because of an accident and was late for work; then i spent all morning working on a spreadsheet for my boss, who looked at it and then decided he wanted something completely different and i had to re-do the entire thing. it was a frustrating day."

hubby: "that does sound frustrating."

me: "it was. how was your day?"

hubby: "well, we had to meet with a patient's family to tell them their loved one was going to die. it was tough, i almost cried. then we got the test results back on another patient and it looks like she isn't going to make it either. my pager went off all night and i only slept for an hour in the call-room."

me: "oh."

So you see, sometimes talking about our days can make my "bad" day seem not very terrible at all.

Sometimes God grants me a little perspective.

Sometimes I am a little more conscious of what really matters in this life. And sometimes I am reminded to count my blessings and grumble less.

a blessed christmas

I know.

This post is about a month late.

That's what happens when you're pregnant, chasing after a toddler, and married to a resident.

But I still wanted to write it because this Christmas was so different for us from ones in the past.

Last year my hubby had to work on New Year's Eve. No biggie. We don't really do anything huge for New Year's and I was content to spend it with friends while he worked.

This year the Doctor drew the short straw and had to be on-call for Christmas Day.

At first I was kind of upset.

Okay, I was really upset.

We have always flown home for Christmas since we moved out east, away from our families (for residency). We spend Christmas Eve at my parents and Christmas Day at my hubby's parents. It's been a great tradition that always worked really well. It's busy, but I love being with my family over the holidays, and participating in the traditions we've created. So I was really sad that this year it would be much different. We wouldn't be able to fly out until the 26th.

Occasionally I have these moments where I get very frustrated with residency, the amount of time it consumes, and the demands it places on my hubby. This was once of those times.

Then I started to think about it a bit more.

And I actually started to get a little excited.

Being in our home for Christmas meant that we could start our own traditions with the Bean. It meant I could actually decorate our house for Christmas (something I never bothered to do since we weren't ever here). It meant we could have our own tree! (also something we've never done since moving away). The more I thought about it and began to plan, the happier I was with the turn of events.

Fortunately my hubby is in a residency program that has home call* which meant he could go in early on Christmas day to round on his patients and then (barring any unforeseen emergencies), he would be able to spend the rest of the day with us.

What I originally thought was going to be a big lonely failure of a Christmas turned out to be one of the most blessed ones. We went to a Christmas Eve church service as a family and opened our stockings when we got home. And when the Bean and I woke up in the morning, my hubby was home and ready to eat a leisurely breakfast with us before we started the gift-giving. It was relaxed. It was joy-filled. It was ours.

It was so fun to be able to watch our Bean's reaction to Christmas, to see her slowly start to grasp the concept of gift-giving and present-ripping. To watch her little face light up at the smallest gift. To be a family. Just us. To start new traditions of our own.

I am so thankful to have an extended family who is flexible. Who were willing to wait for us and celebrate on different days than we normally have.

We got the best of both worlds this year.

A Christmas of our own and a Christmas with our families.

I didn't realize how much I would treasure being able to have our own Christmas as a family. My family. The family I'm building with my husband.

I am so blessed.

*home call means you can "stay home" when you are on-call, unless you get called in to deal with something. In house call means you must stay at the hospital for the entirety of your on-call shift.

steamy notes

I’m sorry. It’s been rather quiet around here lately, I know. The Doctor has been studying for the second part of his licensing exam, so I’ve been flying solo on the home and baby front.

Needless to say, I’ve had my hands full.

And I get lonely.

I’ll admit it.

I miss my hubby. My partner.

I somehow thought that residency would be less busy than medical school. Boy was I wrong.

Med school now seems like a sort of vacation in comparison. Summers off, classes starting at 8am, frequent afternoons off. Oh sure it was busy. Especially around exam time. But residency is double the busy.

I know, part of this probably has to do with the fact that we now have a bigger house to take care of, and a 13-month old running around. But my hubby starts work at 6:30am or earlier most days, and when he comes home at 6 or 7pm it doesn’t end. There is always more studying to be done. Cases to read about for the next day.

But I’m getting off topic. My reason for writing this post was to talk about romance. Now my hubby is a huge romantic. When we were dating he wrote me more songs than I can count. Letters and dates (planned by him) were also a frequent occurrence when we were dating and also in the early years of our marriage. It is so important to keep the romance alive.

This is easier said than done when married to a resident.

Life changes.

I've learned that it is so important to step back and regroup every once in a while; to re-prioritize our life. My hubby sometimes loses focus; he’ll be the first one to admit that. Planned date nights, when we go out without the bean and have time to just talk by ourselves without distractions are so wonderful. We don’t do them nearly enough.

But even more important is the day-to-day romance. The little things to let your spouse know you’re thinking about them. These are the hard ones to do because they take time and forethought. I started a little thing a few months back that I love.

Our shower door is glass. This means it is perfect for writing on with a dry erase marker. So I started leaving my hubby little notes before I went to bed (he usually gets ready for bed faster than I do and is out of the bathroom before me) and he would see them in the morning. And most times, when I got up, there would be a little note written back to me.

This may not seem like a big deal, but these notes brighten up my whole day. I start off my morning knowing that my hubby is thinking about me. Sure, I know he’s thinking of me during the day. But it’s nice to actually be told that he loves me and is thinking about me.

Residency is stressful and demanding. And I think it’s even more stressful if you don’t have a good support team at home. This is probably true of many jobs. I’ve taken it upon myself to pull my hubby out of his studying fog every once in a while and remind him that we’re in this together, and I need him too.

It’s too easy to just sit back and wait for the romance to happen (and you could be waiting a long time). Sometimes husbands need a gentle nudge.

Fact or Fiction: Doctors are cool and hip

You know those doctors you see on TV or in films? The ones the girls are always trying to catch because they’re handsome….and rich….and cool? Well, I’m here to tell you the truth.

Doctors are nerds.

Especially mine.

I know plenty of doctors. And deep down? They’re all nerds. Oh, they may appear hip at first. But get to know them a little better and you’ll soon find that your nerd-alert radar has started beeping at a high frequency.

This nerdiness is most recently apparent in the form of a phenomenon occurring in my husband. He seems to have lost his filters. You know those filters that tell you when someone has lost interest in your conversation, or when you might be talking over their head? Virtually non-existent in my husband.

It wasn’t always this way. It used to be that he could tell me about his day and I would understand everything he was saying. In fact, sometimes I used words that he didn’t know. The further he advances in his medical career however, the less I comprehend what is coming out of his mouth. What is worse is that he doesn’t realize that he is no longer speaking normal, everyday language. It’s those non-existent filters. Lately, a frequent conversation goes something like this:

Me: “What did you do today”

the Doctor: “Oh, we had this patient with (insert long latin medical term) and so we had to (insert 

obscure name for medical procedure)”

Me: “Um, was I supposed to understand that??”

the Doctor: “Really? Everyone knows what (insert medical word no one knows) is!”

No they don’t.

And sometimes, I do understand what he’s saying, but it’s uttered in such a nerdy fashion that I have to do a double-take to see if he’s joking.

He’s not.

One of my favourite examples is this:

the Doctor (while feeding our daughter dinner): “HELP! Bilateral hand soiling!!”

Apparently she had gotten both (bilateral) hands in her bowl of food (they were evidently soiled).

Who talks like that?

Nerds do.

Don’t worry everyone. I have made it personal mission to try and pull my hubby from the depths of his nerdiness and to incessantly constantly frequently remind him how it is that normal people speak.

So if the next time you’re having a conversation with my husband you can’t understand what he’s saying. Please, just tell him. He’s not talking over your head on purpose.

He’s just a big nerd.

trying not to let the nerdiness rub off on me...

Fact or Fiction: Doctor's wives lead glamorous, cushy lives

Ha.

This one gets me. I’ve seen it happen more than a few times.  Apparently being married to a doctor is a symbol of status.

“So, what does your husband do?”

“Oh, he’s a doctor”.

Then there is something that happens. I can see it behind their eyes. Stereotypes enter their head, most likely acquired by television dramas or Hollywood movies. And they form an opinion of me.

Sometimes it’s more light-hearted, like “nice catch!”. But the implications are there.

I must lead a privileged and glamorous life. After all, I’m married to a doctor. I must be “set” for life. After all, I married a doctor.

Well, let this be the second myth I debunk. My life is certainly not very glamorous or cushy. It’s actually quite ordinary. And I certainly didn’t marry my husband for the money. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t spend my days shopping for my Fall Wardrobe and attending Charity Teas while the nanny looks after the baby and the maid cleans the mansion. In actual fact, I work part-time, take care of the bean, clean our small house (when I have time) and never buy anything that’s not on sale.

Now let me be fair and say that our life-style will change one day, once my husband has completed residency (and fellowship?) and is actually hired as staff somewhere. Oh, and we pay off our debt. But we’re talking another 10 years here, people. And even then, I don’t expect to be a “kept” woman.

I’ve joked before with other doctor-spouses that we’re earning our PHT degree (that’s Putting Honey Through). Medical students, Residents, and Doctors work incredibly hard. But so do their spouses.

I'm not a trophy wife. I'm not an accessory.

I’m right alongside my hubby, supporting him in the best ways that I can, working hard to make this life of ours work.

welcome to my glamorous life...

Have something to say? Or another myth you want me to debunk? Please leave your comment below!

Fact or Fiction: Doctors are rich

*snort.

Sorry.

When my hubby and I started out on this journey, I was under this false impression too. Doctors drive fancy cars. They have big houses. They go on luxurious vacations. Little did I know what I was in for…

Let me start with a disclaimer: this blog post is not intended as a complaint, nor am I looking for pity. I’m just trying to tell it like it is, people.

Becoming a doctor is quite the expensive, trying process and I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop and explain a bit of it here. If that doesn’t interest you, please skip ahead.

A medical career begins in Undergrad. You have to get really good marks in all 4 years (like, really good) and take really hard Science courses (did I mention I majored in English?). And you should probably also volunteer somewhere (preferably medical) every year, and take interesting trips to other parts of the world. This looks good on your application.

Then you have to write the MCAT. It’s a little 8 hour exam that you have to study months in advance for. And you have to do really well (like, really really well).

Then you can apply to Medical schools. This is a laborious and fairly expensive process. If you’re lucky, you’ll get an interview (or 2 or 3). You then face a subjective panel of physicians, community members, and med students who decide if they think you should be accepted. If you do get in (some people, like my husband, have to complete a Master’s degree and apply again), you’re overjoyed, and relieved that the process is over. Think again.

Medical school is 4 years long in Canada (except for a few schools that don’t have summer breaks and git’er done in 3 years). In your second-last year you better start to figure out what you want to specialize in and start completing electives (across the country) and research projects in those specialties. This is the part no one told me. Getting into Medical school is just the beginning. You have to apply to match to a residency-training program. So even though you’re a Dr. after the 4 years, you can’t practice medicine until you complete your residency (used to be referred to as an internship).

This residency matching process is referred to as CARMS.

shudder.

The memories are still fresh.

In this process you apply to the programs that you want to match to. A residency training program is anywhere from 2-6 years long. A family medicine residency is 2. Most surgical residencies are 5.

If you get interviews (and you better hope you do), you have to fly to the different cities across the country to interview. Once your cross-Canada tour is over, you sit down and rank the programs from 1 to whatever. The program directors also sit down and rank everyone they interviewed, from 1 to whatever. Then a computer makes the best match. You log on in March and ta-da, find out where you’ll be for the next 2-6 years of your life.

What?

Yep, a computer makes the best match, and you are contractually bound to accept that match. For the next 2-6 years of your life.

Then there are fellowships, which can be completed after your residency to further specialize, but I think I’ve explained enough for now.

Let’s get back to the money.

Medical school for my hubby cost about $14,000 a year. And you certainly can’t work while you’re in Medical school. Hello, line-of-credit. Then you add all the crazy expensive and intimidating textbooks. Plus any medical tools (like stethoscopes and otoscopes), also not cheap.

Remember those electives and then the residency interviews he had to fly all over the country for? Also out of our pocket.

Then my hubby began residency. Surely the money would start rolling in now.

Or not.

If we calculate my husband’s wage, based on the number of hours he works, he makes about 15$/hour. I made $16/hour as a teenager, working as a lifeguard at the YMCA.

And when he’s on-call and works 13 hours through the night, saving lives? Here’s 110 buckeroos (about 8$/hour).

Needless to say, we have a crap-load of debt. An incredibly huge crap-load.

Now when he completes residency, finds a job (yet another, not-so-easy process), and starts working as a staff doctor, yes the pay is quite good. But we have many, many years of debt to pay off. 

I don’t see any fancy cars or big mansions in our near future…

Are you or your spouse in the medical profession? I’d love to hear your comments.

the very beginning

Hi. And welcome to my blog. I'm really glad you're here.

Seeing as this is my very first post (gulp), I thought I’d explain my reasons for starting a blog, and what you can expect to read about here.

Let me start by telling you a bit about myself (woah… flashback to awkward first days of school). I'll start by telling you that I’ve been with my husband since high school and we just celebrated our 7^th wedding anniversary.

He’s a doctor.

That’s part of the reason I started this blog. You see, I think there are a bunch of misconceptions and false impressions surrounding being a doctor, and more importantly (from my point of view) what it’s like to be a doctor’s wife. So maybe I can debunk some of those here. It’s been a long road so far and I really wish I’d started this blog when my hubby was in Med school. But better late than never, right?

I should probably clarify that my husband is a resident. For those of you that understand the difference, you’ll get this important distinction. Yep, he is a doctor. He has completed medical school and has an MD behind his name.

But he is still a resident.

He has 4 more years of specialty surgical training to do. I’ll explain this more in a future post!

I’m also a new(ish) mom. My baby girl is about to turn one and she lights up my life. So this blog will most likely feature some of the joys and challenges of raising a baby (while being married to a doctor  resident). It will be a way for me to look back and remember my thoughts and feelings at this stage in my life, and to share and gain advice from you!

And I’m a big foodie. I love food. I spend a lot of time in the kitchen and really enjoy sharing and trying out new recipes. We’ve recently embarked on a new food adventure. More on that in another future post (I have to keep you intrigued, right?)

Lastly, I like to write. A long time ago I majored in English. I’ve read a lot of books and written my fair share of essays.

I have things to say.

And I’d like to share them with you.

nice to meet you!

    the bean, hubby and me

Note: I’ve thought long and hard about sharing my family’s life and mine with you. I wouldn’t say I’m an especially private person; but I’ve also never shared like this in a public arena. I’m going to reveal as much as I can. But there are some things I’ll do to protect the privacy of my family. I’ll refer to our daughter as “the bean”. It’s what we’ve called her since she was a little jumping bean on my 19-week ultrasound. And I’ll refer to my husband as “hubby” or “the doctor”. I hope that's okay with you.