The End and the Beginning

Today my husband kissed me goodbye like any other day.

But it’s not just any other day…

You see, today he began the next step in his training.

He headed off to the hospital to begin his fellowship!

You know what that means, right?

My husband is DONE with residency!

I feel like this development should be accompanied by balloons and confetti and maybe a parade with some acrobats and a float with a beauty queen on it, and, of course, a marching band. I mean, it’s the end of a three-year stretch that has been a huge learning experience – not just for him at work, but for our marriage, and for me, personally.

Plus, it’s the beginning of this entirely new stage in my husband’s career and our lives. We’re another step closer to Real Life, after all! (Strange to think that the nine years since college have been just LEADING UP TO Real Life…)

But, instead, it doesn’t really FEEL like a big deal.

I think that’s because we’re not going anywhere. You know, physically.

So far in our lives, all big milestones like this have spurred a Big Move. There’s nothing like stowing all your belongings away in Home Depot boxes to make you feel like change is happening.

This time, however, we’re staying put. We’ve got this house. We’ve got at least three more years here. My husband isn’t even changing hospitals for fellowship.

That’s the other reason it doesn’t feel like a big deal, I think. In the past, the milestone and the Big Move resulted in a big change in his routine. From a retail job and a few classes while I was in grad school… to classes and short, simple hospital rotations during medical school… to 80 hours a week in the hospital during residency.

Until now, I always had to adjust to seeing my husband more or less. To taking my work to the library to study with him… Or to steeling myself for not seeing him for 30 hours at a time.

Fellowship, as I understand it, won’t be all that different from residency. My husband will still work a lot. He’ll still have rotations that will vary his routine every few weeks. He’ll still be on call (although he’ll have HOME call instead of HOSPITAL call, meaning that he’ll be home to answer issues over the phone and will only have to go to the hospital in an emergency). But even then, call won’t be as frequent as it has been these past three years.

Of course, he will go back to being the low man on the totem pole for at least a year. That’s tough, I think, after finally getting to the point in residency where you know the ropes and feel comfortable and knowledgeable. To get dumped back into the dark panic of not really knowing what to do, learning new equipment, working with a whole new team… that’s not fun or easy.

But I think he’s excited. Looking forward to specializing in a field that interests him so much. Looking forward to mastering the procedures that will be such a big part of his career. Looking forward to this last (hopefully) step on the path to Being Done.

Oh Internet, I am so proud of my husband. He’s worked so hard.

I am so happy that he’s about to begin this new step in his training. I hope fellowship gives him a chance to fall in love his with field, to truly feel like he’s building up an expertise in an area that interests him.

And I’m looking forward to watching him grow more knowledgeable and more confident as he settles into this new role.

As far as how this new stage will affect me (which is, of course, the subject of this blog: me me me), I’m withholding judgment.

My husband, of course, swears that fellowship is going to be much better than residency was.

I am not holding my breath.

Read Full Post »

Better

Going into residency, you hear all these nightmares about intern year.

It’s going to be awful. You’ll never see your spouse. You’ll be so lonely.

And I’m not going to lie – it wasn’t awesome.

But… it wasn’t horrible either.

And no matter how bad it was, I simply set my jaw and looked forward: “Next year will be better.”

* * * * *

This is what I wrote at the end of intern year:  “Did I mention that my husband is officially No Longer an Intern? That means he’s an upper level resident! And it also means no more overnight call! Except in certain situations, which I am not entirely clear about! (I swear, the hospitals make all these super crazy confusing schedules just to eff with me. ME.) Oh and also when he’s on a Night Float rotation…”

Second year stood like a beacon of calm in front of me. The year that my husband would know what he was doing. The year that he’d have more time for him, for me, for us. The year that everything would be better.

Internet, second year was not better.

It was worse.

* * * * *

Have you ever been behind a line of cars waiting to turn left at a stoplight? The lights all blink at different paces, but if you watch long enough, they sync up? Sometimes that’s how I think of our marriage.

For a long time, we’re in sync about most everything. We’ll make dinner together, we’ll spend lots of time snuggling, we’ll spend lots of time laughing, we just WORK.

But then something happens:  My husband comes home after 8:00 five nights in a row… Or he purposely stays late to help another doctor (which is a good, generous thing) and I feel jealous and frustrated that he’s choosing work over me (DUMB)… Or I’ll have a week of no sleep and get snappy and short…

…and we get out of step.

Sometimes it lasts for a weekend, sometimes it lasts for a week or more. But… even though I KNOW we’ll get back in sync again, it always makes me feel upset and out of sorts.

However, I’m well aware that we’re two totally different people with totally different brains who see the world in totally different ways. Really… it’s a wonder that we’re ever in sync at all!

This past year, we’ve had a lot of out-of-sync times, which has been rough. But I have faith that it’s just one of those many repeating patterns that make up life: it will be this way again, but it won’t be this way forever.

* * * * *

Despite struggling with loneliness and adjusting to a new city and supporting a husband who felt like a fish out of water, I felt like intern year was GOOD for our marriage. Learning how to be apart… Learning how to support each other in a new way than we’d ever had to before… Learning how to live as two career people… It all brought us closer together. Strengthened us. Showed us vulnerabilities and fortes we didn’t know we had. Taught us to treasure those rare moments we had together.

But second year…

I don’t know what happened.

Maybe familiarity DOES breed contempt. And the changeable work schedules and late nights and exhaustion that were so novel first year became routine and horrible.

Maybe I’d leaned so heavily on the idea that “second year will be better” that – when it wasn’t – I didn’t know how to deal with it.

Maybe this is just normal – normal for marriage, normal for life. Ups and downs. Ebbs and flows.

* * * * *

By the way, let me stress that our marriage is fine. It’s strong. We are in love and love each other deeply. But that doesn’t mean that things are always easy.

* * * * *

As a second year resident, my husband has had to bear a lot more responsibility. He’s in charge, for the most part. He oversees interns and medical students. He does complicated procedures. He runs codes.

That’s a lot of weight for someone to carry around. (Yes, I realize he’ll continue to carry it around… and the weight will just get heavier as the years go on.)

Second year has been The Year of the Long Hours. Sure, as an intern he did 30-hour stretches in the hospital. But he got more days off. He usually had at least one weekend day off. And his upper level residents helped make sure that he got done each day at a reasonable time.

Well, now he’s the upper level resident who stays after the interns have gone home. He works almost every single weekend day there is. He still has (more frequent than I anticipated) stretches of 30 hours at a time. And most nights, he’s at the hospital until 7:00 or 8:00. Rarely, he leaves around 5:30 or 6:00.

My workload changed, too, which has added to the stress. (If there’s one thing I’ve learned about our marriage, it’s that dual work stress means at least ten times the strain on our relationship.) (I am not pleasant when I’m overly stressed and underly slept.)

During intern year, if I was having a period of particularly heavy work, my husband would make dinner or do the dishes or do the laundry or do other things to help carry the workload of our household. Now, more than ever, the household chores fall on me – simply because (even when I’m working 16 hour days) I have more time at home to do them.

(Which is not to say he doesn’t do what he can. But there’s only so much you can do when you’re stuck at the hospital for 14 to 30 hours at a time.)

So there are more raised voices (usually mine). More microwaved meals and last-minute meals and meals eaten separately. Less house cleaning. Less time spent together. Fewer long, dreamy conversations. Fewer mornings spent sleeping in.  More frustrating encounters with attendings (his). More hours spent alone in our apartment (mine).

Less time for just being with each other.

* * * * *

Some things are better.

I’m not as lonely. I have a book club that meets once a month, and that seems to be enough socializing to get me through. My work situation has changed a bit, and I interact with my clients more than I ever have. It’s nice. (Why was I so afraid of the telephone for so many years?) (Okay, okay.  I don’t actually like the telephone.) I still have my best friend from back home; we talk about once a week. And my mom and I email at least once a day.  Plus, I have you, Internet. And you’ve helped stave off the loneliness more than I could have ever hoped for.

And, best of all, my husband is more confident as a doctor. I look at him and am just blown away that this man – the one who makes “that’s what she said” jokes and smoothes his freshly-shaven cheek against mine in the mornings and whips up a kick-ass spaghetti sauce – is a real live doctor who heals the sick and saves lives and soothes worried families and comforts the dying.

I am so proud of him. So in awe of his patience and his intelligence and his strength.

* * * * *

Today is my husband’s last day of second year. Tomorrow, he’s officially a PGY3 – a third-year resident.

It’s been a bumpy year. I don’t have any illusions that it will be our last bumpy year, or our worst.

The current third year residents go around saying things like, “Third year is so much better.” And the fellows say, “Just wait until fellowship. It’s so much better than residency.”

But I’m not falling for it. Maybe the coming year will be the best one yet! Maybe it will be the worst. Probably it will fall somewhere in the middle. I can’t pretend to know.

I’m certainly not going to do what I did last year and pin all my hopes on the future. That led to nothing but disappointment and frustration.

And I’m not going to wish it away. Our lives are changing so quickly. And time is spinning by so fast. I want to stretch it out – savor all the good that’s mixed in among the not-so-great.

* * * * *

Oh Internet, despite the little roughness of the past year, I am so incredibly fortunate. I have work I enjoy. A family who supports me.

And I get to be married to this man – this man who works so hard and endures so much stress and sees so much sadness… yet comes home to me with his tired, worn-out, overworked heart full of love. For me.

We may not be in sync every step of the way. But the privilege of walking through life with this man at my side? There’s nothing better.

Read Full Post »