Nine months ago the online application system opened for Surgical Critical Care, the specialty in which J decided long ago he wanted to do a fellowship after residency.
Eights months and two weeks ago, J submitted the Surgical Critical Care common application, indicating over thirty programs to receive it, most of them on either the East Coast or the Midwest in places we could reasonably consider living for a year. Six months ago, J flew out to Chicago for the first of what would be many interviews. Twenty-two in total, in fact, the last of which was one month ago. Two weeks ago, J submitted a ranked list of all those programs in hopes that the Match gods would look favorably upon the top of our list. In two days, we find out where J's education will take us after Residency.
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A couple months ago I found myself at large, relaxed Shabbat lunch filled with about 15 people, half of whom were new to me. I eventually wandered my way into a conversation with two young women where we spoke about our careers, their dating lives, and my marriage. One of them had recently started dating a medical student and was trying to wrap her head around his education, so I began explaining the detailed process of becoming a doctor - not just getting the MD with your medical school diploma, but the training that follows. After what ended up being a rather long explanation, she said with eyes wide: "Wow, I bet your husband wouldn't be able to describe your career training so well!" 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. About a month after we moved when I was still refusing to be anything but sullen and pessimistic about our new home, J forced me to listen to the hard truth I needed to hear: "You need to find a way to make this work otherwise it's going to be a very long residency." He was right, of course, and that was a turning point in my approach toward this new journey of ours.
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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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