My husband is a hero. There's no doubt about it. I mean, how else do you describe someone who not only doesn't get furious at you when you manage to drop your e-reader in the tub AND lose a credit card in the same weekend, but actually gives you the last piece of his favorite candy just because he loves you? Yeah, I'm married to a saint. The fact that he's a surgeon (he'll debate me and say he's still just a "surgical resident," but I don't care, he's a surgeon) just adds to his sainthood. You know, that whole saving lives thing. What he does every single day, whether he's actively saving lives or simply caring for ill patients, is no small feat. But that's not actually what I'd like to talk about here. Yes, he does amazing work and he's an unbelievably patient and loving husband, but he is also showing me that there is hope for a brighter future in the often dismal world of surgical education. A little background: In addition to surgery routinely being considered one of the hardest specialties, surgeons themselves have a bad rap for being some of the hardest people to like. This excerpt from a post on the blog Behind the Mask is a great synopsis of the stereotype:
While there are a great many fantastic surgeons who are anything but what's described above, I'm convinced there is a correlation between the persistence of that stereotype and the persistence of severe problems in surgical training that push young residents to and often beyond their breaking points. While not all surgeons are callous, cold-hearted scalpel jocks, far too many surgical residents suffer under the weight of antiquated "this is how I did it so you have to do it too" educational systems that break the body, the spirit, and the soul of these young physicians. (For a heart-wrenching and agonizingly accurate portrayal of this, I highly recommend Jennifer R. Bernstein's "Residency Wellness is a Lie" series, the third installment of which I'm still waiting on with bated breath as of this writing.) How many times has J told me "It is what it is" when I sigh in frustration that he got home after 10 pm and has to go back in at 6 am? Why was it considered normal and not a dangerous warning sign when he lost 50 pounds in the first six months of residency because he didn't have the time to eat? And why do we laugh instead of cry at the stories of colleagues who suffered from one illness or another but managed to do their rounds only after hooking themselves up to an IV and walking around with it in tow? These stories are real and all too familiar to surgical residents and attendings, most of whom chalk it up to "the way it is." Sick days, post-call rest, respect for the lives residents have outside the walls of the hospital - these are little more than fantasies for the weak and ill-prepared. Meanwhile, there are those of us on the sidelines who are convinced it doesn't have to be this way. We are not so entrenched in the system that we cannot see the harm it does to those deeply imbedded in it. Complaining about it does nothing, of course, because our surgical spouses are at the bottom of a precariously tall totem pole which, if they tried to change anything, would only fall on top of them. At least, that's what they're told. This is why whenever J comes home with yet another terrible anecdote about how an attending managed a problem with a resident that I say "Remember this moment. Remember this feeling. And when you are an attending in a teaching hospital, you will do better." J is proving to me, though, that he doesn't have to wait until he's an attending to improve the culture he's in. Recently while he was at work, the intern (first year resident) on his team became sick to the point of throwing up. Had the same thing happened to him six years ago, he probably would have been expected to stay and work through it, maybe take some Zofran and fluids and STFU. However, J promptly sent her home and assumed the responsibilities of both the chief and the intern for the day. Then this weekend, J got a call from his co-chief resident (R) whose wife had just gone into labor with their first child. R was supposed to be on call, and J had call the next day. But without a second thought, he told R "If the 4th year resident can't come in to cover, I can be there in 30 minutes." As it happened, the 4th year resident was able to cover for the remainder of the night, but the speed with which J rushed to get ready and leave at a moment's notice to support his colleague was impressive. Not just because it was the fastest shower I've ever known anyone to take, but because he acted on the principle that people have lives outside the hospital that must be respected. There wasn't a question in his mind that R needed to be with his wife in labor, and he was going to make sure that happened even if it meant sacrificing his own time. In a world of tough love and god complexes, was a powerful statement. There are a lot of systemic problems with surgical education, problems whose solutions are often so complicated they seem impossible. Change is slow, but it does come, and I know that J and surgeons like him will cultivate a more caring, empathetic, and healthy world for the next generation of residents, one act of kindness at a time.
5 Comments
Patrick Young
4/16/2019 03:01:31 am
This is a wonderful (another wonderful) insight into J's life as a surgical resident (yes, a Surgeon!). Thank you for giving us yet another glimpse into this world of medicine and J, your husband--my son-in-law. Oh, how I love you both.
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Nashira
4/16/2019 08:07:45 am
I love you too! Thank you so much for reading <3
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Sarah
4/19/2019 02:05:13 pm
Hi, Nashira -- I hear you loud and clear. My spouse is not a surgical resident, but is a resident, and the idea that residency is something "to get through" as in boot camp for service members, is pervasive and deeply entrenched in the psyche of anyone well acquainted with physician training. If residents were paid a salary commiserate to their efforts and time, the whole thing might be more palatable.
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Nashira
4/19/2019 02:48:43 pm
Sarah,
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Abby
6/29/2019 09:10:19 am
Loved reading this. Thanks for sharing. My husband is an EM intern and I loved hearing about how your husband is learning and making a difference by his sacrificial attitude to his patients and colleagues.
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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
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