First of all, congratulations to the many young medical students, soon-to-be residents, and their families who recently found out the results of the 2019 Match! A couple weeks ago was Match Day, a phenomenon that I had thought I might write about but which Lara McElderry of the Married to Doctors podcast and blog did so much more thoroughly than I would have! I highly encourage you to go over to her website and check out her post on the entire NRMP Match process. And while you're there, you can listen to her podcast, including a couple episodes where she interviewed me! Narcissism aside, Married to Doctors is an extremely valuable resource for all people in a medical marriage or partnership, and for the friends and family of doctors who want to better understand the experience.
Reflecting on J's Match reminds me of the moments in its wake when extremely well-meaning people wanted to share their wisdom and advice for this new stage in our lives. The problem was, many of these people were either not familiar with surgical specialties or were not involved in the medical field at all, so not all of the suggestions were equally useful. But what did I know? I was only just learning about what it meant to be a doctor's partner, and I had no clue! So I smiled and nodded and tried desperately to take their advice, only to realize months or even years later that their well-intentioned words may have done more harm than good. If only there had been a resource for them to learn what to say to this new almost-surgical-spouse in their midst...
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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. 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!" When all the Match Day envelopes had been distributed and opened, the hugs of joy and pain exchanged, the tears dried (or at least temporarily held at bay), I said goodbye to my fiance and his family to drive to work. I was a part-time teacher at an elementary school where my day started at 11:30 am. I had just enough time to pull myself together and get to class before 25 4- and 5-year-olds showed up at my music room door where I Had to greet them with a smile and joy.
It's astonishing I even made it to work that day, considering the recklessness with which I drove. I could barely see through the tears that refused to stop for very long, and on the way I called my assistant principal to tell her the news. "So," she said, stealing a few minutes from the meeting she was in, "Do we get to keep you for another year?" "I'm going to Brooklyn" I said with an attempt at a laugh. "Oh..." The stairs of the Medical College seemed at once insignificant and insurmountable. We walked together, both full of insincere confidence.
“We can do this,” I said, more to myself than to him. “And I will be happy. But whatever happens, we’d better not end up living in Borough Park, Brooklyn.” I smiled at the sheer absurdity of the thought -- being not only in New York, but in a neighborhood where Yiddish was the lingua franca, where I would be an outcast. He squeezed my hand and I knew he hoped his parents and classmates wouldn’t see even that tiny indication of the trepidation we both felt. |
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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