First, a few announcements:
When I tell people my husband is a surgical resident, some like to comment on how little we must see of each other. Having little to compare it to, his 80-hour weeks are the norm and set the baseline for how I live my life and how we manage our relationship. But some weeks are harder than others and last week was particularly brutal due to a confluence of events including two call days, an interview out of state, and a minor programmatic crisis at work. Here, I share a glimpse into the life of a surgeon's spouse: Sunday: Call J and I both wake up early - me to get a head start on the large To Do list of home- and work-related tasks for the weekend, J to go to work. He has to be in the hospital by 8 am for a call shift that will keep him busy until at least 10 am tomorrow. I have the day to myself, but I also have the laundry, the groceries, the errands, the dishes, the cleaning. . . At the day's end, when everything except the laundry is checked off the list, I call J for just a few moments to see how call is going and to say goodnight. Then I sprawl out on the bed and relish having its entirety to myself for the evening. Our cat, Clara, claims the extra pillow. Monday: Post-Call
I wake up when I need to, my sleep uninterrupted by J's alarm clock that usually rings at 4:30. I go to work at my school and at some point throughout the day he texts me to say he got home safe. I ask him to do the laundry after his nap and to change the light bulb that went out yesterday. I would do it myself, but I'm far too short to reach it. He says he will and promptly falls asleep, having not done so for close to 30 hours at that point. When I get home at 5 pm he is at the laundromat, dutifully taking care of the task I couldn't (okay, refused) to do yesterday. When he brings home the bulbous bag of clean but yet-unfolded laundry around 6:00 pm, he changes out of his scrubs from yesterday and goes back to the hospital for an emergency meeting with the other 4th year surgical residents to address a sudden programmatic issue. I add "fold/hang laundry" to my evening's To Do list, after "Lesson planning," "Dishes," and "File the taxes." He comes home close to 9:00 and we manage to spend about an hour of awake-time together, during which I'm stressed and cranky and he's anxious about an upcoming interview. Still, between packing and worrying, J rushes out to buy a light bulb from the corner store to fix the problem he'd forgotten about before. We go to bed and Clara is disappointed that her humans claimed both pillows. Our tummies will have to suffice. Tuesday: The Flight The alarm clock goes off at 4:30. Then J's phone alarms ring in succession every 15 minutes until he's finally alerted enough to wake. I'm so used to them by now that even if they wake me I'll fall back asleep immediately, often barely conscious when he kisses me goodbye. He does so at 5:30 am and I wake up a half hour later to get ready for school. We text here and there throughout the day, and that evening he goes directly from work to the airport to catch the last flight out to Chicago for his first fellowship interview. (Even though he won't finish residency until June 2019 and start fellowship that August, he submitted his fellowship applications in January and has interviews scheduled through September.) Flurries of texts follow updating us each time the flight is delayed, and I follow them from the table of a restaurant where I am treating myself to a lovely meal instead of going home to cook for one. He finally gets on the plane over an hour later than planned, and once up in the air I lay down in bed. Clara curls up on the human-free pillow. Wednesday: The Interview I barely remember to text him "Good Luck!" with extra kiss emojis before I walk into my first class of the day and he into his interview. Four hours later the interview finishes and he has an entire afternoon to kill before getting on the last plane back to New York tonight. Meanwhile, I finish my classes, successfully navigate an uncomfortable conversation with a colleague, see my therapist, and come home to babysit for a friend's daughter across the street. When I get home after 10 pm I know I should go to bed right away but am torn between my fatigue and the need to see J when he gets home, knowing full well that won't happen until after midnight. Sleep prevails around 11:30, and I barely notice when he crawls into bed and displaces Clara an hour later. Thursday: Call I am still asleep when he leaves for work, but it occurs to me while I get ready for my day that I still don't know how his interview went. But I proceed with my day - a half day of teaching, a few hours of meetings, an event in the community at night that I am free to attend without worrying about whether or not J will enjoy it. Except I think he would have enjoyed it. I leave halfway through. I feel imbalanced. The challenges at work, the extra things popping up that require my attention and problem-solving, the tasks at home are simultaneously par for the course and suddenly a little more than I can bear. I have a hard time going to bed alone tonight and I text J to tell him so. He calls almost immediately and we get to talk for six minutes. Clara and I go to bed, and she takes the abandoned pillow. Friday: Post-Call Work is harder than usual that day. After my voluntary before-school extra violin class, I teach back-to-back from first period through fourth. Lunch is disappointing and far from restorative before heading into my last class of the day, but at least because of the schedule change I'm able to leave early. I've reached my limit by the time I get home, but I still have to prepare a full Shabbat dinner just in case there are guests at our synagogue in need of a meal. J helps, his post-call nap rendering him far more capable than me. I go to the synagogue for evening services and feel elated when I realize everyone's meal accommodations are met and I can go home alone. J and I finish preparing the table while singing the traditional songs before Shabbat dinner, then sit down at the table for the first time in too long. The wine is cool, the challah soft, the food is warm and flavorful. Our conversation flows through the topics we haven't had the leisure to discuss all week, and my mind and breath slow to something resembling stasis. When we go to bed Clara finds a comfortable spot between us, as happy as any cat can be to have both her humans in bed. It's been a long week, but we're finally home.
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AuthorNashira is a music teacher and proud Small-Town Jew who, after surthriving six years in Brooklyn for her husband's surgical residency, is finally back in Wisconsin where she belongs! At least until the end of the two-year surgical fellowship, that is. It's a wild ride, and she's ready to tell you all about it! Archives
September 2019
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