It's official: I've graduated from residency.
We had our graduation dinner last week. I was anxious about it all day and my husband kept asking me why. Somehow it wasn't a good enough explanation that I was scared my two year old daughter would scream her head off during a ceremony attended by professionals in my field that I highly respect.
One other graduating resident had a child and we conspired to sit at the same table, thinking that at least this way, nobody would be able to differentiate one screaming child from another. Right off, things didn't go well when Melly didn't seem to get that she was only supposed to clap when everyone else was clapping. Neither of our girls made it through the ceremony and our husbands had to take them outside. Apparently, her husband said to mine, "So this is what our lives have become."
In general though, I was very proud of how well Melly behaved. As long as there was food in front of her.
I'm proud of myself too. I still think of myself as very very early in my career, but when I see high school kids shadowing our doctors, I realize that I've come very far. They've still got to graduate high school, go through all of college, take the MCATs, go through med school, take Step 1 through 3, do internship, and do residency in order to get to where I am right now.
It was not easy. I am a little ashamed to admit how many times I came close to quitting. There are a lot of people who started med school with me in 2001 that have been lost along the way... they will not be graduating now or ever. There are so many ways to get tripped up on this journey: students who flunked out, switched into other fields, quit to raise children instead, or worse, are no longer with us.
But I made it. I'm licensed to practice medicine and will (hopefully) soon be board certified.
So has anyone warned you not to get sick in July?
Monday, June 22, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Worried
I really, really don't like to post about political topics. Mostly because it is inflammatory, but also because, to me, it is extremely personal. However, based on recent media coverage, and President Obama's recent remarks to the AMA, I feel that I cannot keep silent on this subject. In his recent speech to the AMA, he downplayed the importance of tort reform in decreasing rising medical costs (such as unnecessary, expensive tests, ordered primarily to CYA and keep the lawyers at bay). More disturbing, however, was the notion that, in a "public option" (aka Government-run plan) he would base physician rating and reimbursement based on their personal health outcomes.
So, wait a minute, what's wrong with that? You ask. I mean, it is the doctor's *job* to make you *better,* right? It doesn't seem so horrible...you have a cold, you visit your physician, s/he diagnoses you with a viral infection, you get better, life goes on. But, what about this? As a physician, your patient population is obese. Despite your multiple attempts and counseling and lifestyle change recommendations, your patients continue along their unhealthy lifestyle, becoming even more obese. Guess what? You get a pay cut. Your patient that has smoked a pack a day for 50 years, and laughs in your face at your attempts to counsel smoking cessation develops COPD. Sorry, that is coming out of your hide. You did such a *bad* job of taking care of this patient! Your diabetic patient doesn't fill their medicine for a month, and then comes in to the hospital in frank DKA. *Your* fault for a negative outcome. Then, to add more fun, your ability to order laboratory/imaging tests will be limited (in the interest of keeping costs low), but if you miss out on a diagnosis? Your *fault,* and here come the lawyers for their piece of your livelihood. Where is the personal responsibility?
Who wants to put up with years of rigorous training, difficult study, and mountains of student loan debt only to be stymied in patient *care* at every turn? Surely not our best and brightest. I am worried about the future of our profession. A "public option" (not "free," by the way, more like $62,000 taxpayer dollars per person) for all intents and purposes will likely undercut any private competition (not to mention the tax burdens that will be levied to discourage competition). This will leave us, both patients and physicians, with only one choice. Government Medicine. Just like Government Motors. I don't want to become a government employee. I don't want my health care options to be limited to government employees. I don't even like to spend a day at the DMV!
I do believe that some reform, obviously, is needed, but I think it needs to be more geared to catastrophic coverage. I think we need to go back to fee-for-service health care, even schedule fees on a pro-rated percentage based on income to make health care visits affordable for all. Get rid of insurance for preventative care, labs, and office visits. Competition will then drive the costs down naturally. We, as physicians, can stop shuffling through piles of insurance paperwork and prior auths and get back to doing that which we were trained to do. Something that we love to do....take care of patients! Personally, I feel that "free" = "of little value." I believe we need to give people back a financial stake in their health care, and, perhaps, when they are financially vested in staying healthy, then they will value their health, and their health care providers, once again. Until then, I jump through a few more hoops to get my patients the care they need, and I worry about the future of our profession, and our nation.
So, wait a minute, what's wrong with that? You ask. I mean, it is the doctor's *job* to make you *better,* right? It doesn't seem so horrible...you have a cold, you visit your physician, s/he diagnoses you with a viral infection, you get better, life goes on. But, what about this? As a physician, your patient population is obese. Despite your multiple attempts and counseling and lifestyle change recommendations, your patients continue along their unhealthy lifestyle, becoming even more obese. Guess what? You get a pay cut. Your patient that has smoked a pack a day for 50 years, and laughs in your face at your attempts to counsel smoking cessation develops COPD. Sorry, that is coming out of your hide. You did such a *bad* job of taking care of this patient! Your diabetic patient doesn't fill their medicine for a month, and then comes in to the hospital in frank DKA. *Your* fault for a negative outcome. Then, to add more fun, your ability to order laboratory/imaging tests will be limited (in the interest of keeping costs low), but if you miss out on a diagnosis? Your *fault,* and here come the lawyers for their piece of your livelihood. Where is the personal responsibility?
Who wants to put up with years of rigorous training, difficult study, and mountains of student loan debt only to be stymied in patient *care* at every turn? Surely not our best and brightest. I am worried about the future of our profession. A "public option" (not "free," by the way, more like $62,000 taxpayer dollars per person) for all intents and purposes will likely undercut any private competition (not to mention the tax burdens that will be levied to discourage competition). This will leave us, both patients and physicians, with only one choice. Government Medicine. Just like Government Motors. I don't want to become a government employee. I don't want my health care options to be limited to government employees. I don't even like to spend a day at the DMV!
I do believe that some reform, obviously, is needed, but I think it needs to be more geared to catastrophic coverage. I think we need to go back to fee-for-service health care, even schedule fees on a pro-rated percentage based on income to make health care visits affordable for all. Get rid of insurance for preventative care, labs, and office visits. Competition will then drive the costs down naturally. We, as physicians, can stop shuffling through piles of insurance paperwork and prior auths and get back to doing that which we were trained to do. Something that we love to do....take care of patients! Personally, I feel that "free" = "of little value." I believe we need to give people back a financial stake in their health care, and, perhaps, when they are financially vested in staying healthy, then they will value their health, and their health care providers, once again. Until then, I jump through a few more hoops to get my patients the care they need, and I worry about the future of our profession, and our nation.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Elizabeth Blackwell is rolling in her grave
When I was in grade school, we did a one week segment on human biology. What I remember about grade school human biology was that our teacher would write a bunch of information on the blackboard and we'd copy it down and then memorize it. By the way, did anyone else really really hate copying things verbatim from the blackboard? It seemed like something we had to do an awful lot.
At the end of the one week, we would select three pieces of paper from a bag of questions, and we'd have to answer those questions in front of the whole class. If we got all three questions right, we'd win a prize. For the girls, the prize was a book about Elizabeth Blackwell, the first female doctor. I had like four of them by the end of grade school.
(FYI: I remember one of the questions was, How many bones are there in the human body? I no longer know the answer to that question. I was smarter when I was six than I am now.)
Anyway, fast forward fifteen years into the future. I am at a med school interview and I get asked a really dumb question by the interviewer: "If you could have dinner with any person, living or dead, who would it be?"
That's such a stupid question. Honestly, if I could have dinner with any person, living or dead, it would probably be my husband. I like having dinner with my husband. If I were having dinner with, like, George Washington, I'd probably be really nervous. And creeped out, because he's dead. I'm sure I wouldn't enjoy the meal very much.
(A better question would have been, if I could FIGHT any person living or dead, who would it be? I'd fight Ghandi.)
So I had no clue what to say, but I remembered that Elizabeth Blackwell book, so I said, "Elizabeth Blackwell. Because she's also a woman in medicine and she understands the obstacles we have to overcome."
Oh man, good answer, Fizzy! Except for the fact that I've spent the last nine years kind of feeling like a tool for saying that. I mean, it was just the lamest, most untrue answer I could have given. I don't actually want to have dinner with Elizabeth Blackwell. I was just trying to come up with an answer that would impress the interviewer. (Although actually, maybe it would be fun to talk to her about arrogant male doctors.)
The worst part is, that med school went and rejected me.
At the end of the one week, we would select three pieces of paper from a bag of questions, and we'd have to answer those questions in front of the whole class. If we got all three questions right, we'd win a prize. For the girls, the prize was a book about Elizabeth Blackwell, the first female doctor. I had like four of them by the end of grade school.
(FYI: I remember one of the questions was, How many bones are there in the human body? I no longer know the answer to that question. I was smarter when I was six than I am now.)
Anyway, fast forward fifteen years into the future. I am at a med school interview and I get asked a really dumb question by the interviewer: "If you could have dinner with any person, living or dead, who would it be?"
That's such a stupid question. Honestly, if I could have dinner with any person, living or dead, it would probably be my husband. I like having dinner with my husband. If I were having dinner with, like, George Washington, I'd probably be really nervous. And creeped out, because he's dead. I'm sure I wouldn't enjoy the meal very much.
(A better question would have been, if I could FIGHT any person living or dead, who would it be? I'd fight Ghandi.)
So I had no clue what to say, but I remembered that Elizabeth Blackwell book, so I said, "Elizabeth Blackwell. Because she's also a woman in medicine and she understands the obstacles we have to overcome."
Oh man, good answer, Fizzy! Except for the fact that I've spent the last nine years kind of feeling like a tool for saying that. I mean, it was just the lamest, most untrue answer I could have given. I don't actually want to have dinner with Elizabeth Blackwell. I was just trying to come up with an answer that would impress the interviewer. (Although actually, maybe it would be fun to talk to her about arrogant male doctors.)
The worst part is, that med school went and rejected me.
Friday, June 12, 2009
MiM mailbag: NP or MD?
I am a 30 yo woman who finally got up the nerve to pursue medical school after dreaming/obsessing about it for 15+ yrs. I'm planning to start a post-bacc program next May. But now that I'm 30, I've realized that I do want to have kids, soon, and I don't want to miss the most exciting years of their lives. Although becoming a Nurse Practitioner has never been a goal of mine, I'm wondering if you Mom MDs think it would be worth it to settle for a career as an NP in order to have more time to spend with my kids. Thoughts?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
When EBM is not enough...
I recently had my third child (he's 7 weeks today) and he's a boy - which is a new experience since my two others are girls. Among the various new challenges (which include changing diapers - I've managed to get sprayed on more than one occasion) one unanticipated challenge is what to do with the vaccination schedule? Since my 2 older children are girls, I didn't really worry about autism - but now that I have a son, I find others are asking what I will do?
Well, I started to answer this question with my EBM skills - I looked up the evidence to support any change in the normal practice and of course, there is no good evidence right now. However, now that I have engaged my many Mom friends on this topic, I have heard many, many anecdotes of parents who are sure that a known case of autisum was related to the vaccines given all at once.
Next week, my little one is schedule to get 5 vaccines at once - 4 injected and 1 oral. With all due respect to EBM, while there's no good evidence to support any interventions, I've decided to give the vaccines over 2 visits, probably 1-2 weeks apart. I figure there's little to lose and possibly something to gain? At the very least I wont' have to sit there and watch him scream 4 times - on the other hand, I'll have to take a crying baby home on 2 different days...
Any thoughts on this issue?
Well, I started to answer this question with my EBM skills - I looked up the evidence to support any change in the normal practice and of course, there is no good evidence right now. However, now that I have engaged my many Mom friends on this topic, I have heard many, many anecdotes of parents who are sure that a known case of autisum was related to the vaccines given all at once.
Next week, my little one is schedule to get 5 vaccines at once - 4 injected and 1 oral. With all due respect to EBM, while there's no good evidence to support any interventions, I've decided to give the vaccines over 2 visits, probably 1-2 weeks apart. I figure there's little to lose and possibly something to gain? At the very least I wont' have to sit there and watch him scream 4 times - on the other hand, I'll have to take a crying baby home on 2 different days...
Any thoughts on this issue?
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Playing nice
Recently, we've been teaching Melly to be nice.
Some of the kids at her day care were hitting and we were shocked to discover that she was one of the perpetrators. So we took it upon ourselves to train her not to hit.
Me: "Melly, don't hit the babies. The babies are your friends."
Melly: "Fwends."
Me: "So what are you going to do with the babies?"
Melly: "Hit the babies." (Repeat x 100)
But we were eventually successful and now the day care is reporting that she gently pats the other babies and says that they are her "fwends." We have successfully trained our daughter to be nice.
Now it's my turn.
It's not that I'm not nice. I'm nice enough. But when Melly woke me up at 5:30AM and I've just seen 15 back pain patients that morning and now I'm on #16, it's hard to keep a smile plastered on my face. Especially when patient #16 showed up 20 minutes late and now I'm going to have two minutes for lunch.
(I tend to get really irritable when I think I'm going to miss lunch. I hate the fact that it's totally acceptable in our field to have zero lunch break in a day. Sometimes my morning clinic ends later than my afternoon clinic, so I have negative lunch. I guess that means I'm supposed to throw up?)
My new resolution to be nicer comes from a recent visit to my youngish female primary care physician, who was clearly running an hour late and doing my physical exam during a time when most people would be eating lunch. Yet through our visit, she kept the brightest, most cheerful smile on her face. She was so nice, I wanted to hug her. And I'm not such an awesome patient to warrant that kind of niceness.
Obviously, it's great to be a master diagnostician, but I am most impressed with doctors who can exhibit that kind of unconditional, overwhelming niceness. (Especially in a field where there are, let's face it, a lot of assholes.) My PCP is a physician mother as well and I'm sure she has all sorts of stress in her life, but I wouldn't have known it from looking at her. When I look at my PCP, I think to myself, "She is a born doctor."
When I meet a doctor like that, I resolve to walk into every patient's room with a huge smile on my face. It generally lasts for about a day, sometimes less. Sometimes I can only smile through my first patient. Still, I'm working on it. If my two year old daughter can be nice, I can too.
Some of the kids at her day care were hitting and we were shocked to discover that she was one of the perpetrators. So we took it upon ourselves to train her not to hit.
Me: "Melly, don't hit the babies. The babies are your friends."
Melly: "Fwends."
Me: "So what are you going to do with the babies?"
Melly: "Hit the babies." (Repeat x 100)
But we were eventually successful and now the day care is reporting that she gently pats the other babies and says that they are her "fwends." We have successfully trained our daughter to be nice.
Now it's my turn.
It's not that I'm not nice. I'm nice enough. But when Melly woke me up at 5:30AM and I've just seen 15 back pain patients that morning and now I'm on #16, it's hard to keep a smile plastered on my face. Especially when patient #16 showed up 20 minutes late and now I'm going to have two minutes for lunch.
(I tend to get really irritable when I think I'm going to miss lunch. I hate the fact that it's totally acceptable in our field to have zero lunch break in a day. Sometimes my morning clinic ends later than my afternoon clinic, so I have negative lunch. I guess that means I'm supposed to throw up?)
My new resolution to be nicer comes from a recent visit to my youngish female primary care physician, who was clearly running an hour late and doing my physical exam during a time when most people would be eating lunch. Yet through our visit, she kept the brightest, most cheerful smile on her face. She was so nice, I wanted to hug her. And I'm not such an awesome patient to warrant that kind of niceness.
Obviously, it's great to be a master diagnostician, but I am most impressed with doctors who can exhibit that kind of unconditional, overwhelming niceness. (Especially in a field where there are, let's face it, a lot of assholes.) My PCP is a physician mother as well and I'm sure she has all sorts of stress in her life, but I wouldn't have known it from looking at her. When I look at my PCP, I think to myself, "She is a born doctor."
When I meet a doctor like that, I resolve to walk into every patient's room with a huge smile on my face. It generally lasts for about a day, sometimes less. Sometimes I can only smile through my first patient. Still, I'm working on it. If my two year old daughter can be nice, I can too.
Monday, June 1, 2009
My golden anniversary
When I realized that this was to be my 50th post on this blog, I decided I want to make it good. (Not my usual crap, right?) I asked around for advice and got some suggestions that were good, possibly topics for future posts, but didn't quite have the WOW! factor I wanted. I wanted to make a post that was not just interesting, but.... SHOCKING.
So here goes:
When I joined this blog back in its infancy, one year ago, I had an ulterior motive. The truth was that I felt that going into medicine was a huge mistake for any woman who wanted to become a mother. And I was determined to share that opinion.
Anyone who has read some of my earlier posts would know that I came dangerously close to blurting out that opinion on several occasions, but I always just barely stopped short and ended with some cheesy phrase like, "But it's all worth it." I didn't say what I truly felt because I was scared. I knew this opinion would not be popular. Nobody wants to hear that a woman shouldn't follow her career aspirations just because she wants to have a family. And moreover, I was embarrassed to admit that after seven grueling years of training and 100's of thousands of dollars in tuition, I had major regrets. But I felt that it was important and needed to be said.
(Maybe that's why I've written so much. I'm like the guy who buys twenty unneeded items at the newsstand, hoping the one issue of Playboy goes unnoticed.)
A year later, I still haven't made a definitive post warning mothers-to-be not to go into medicine. But not because I'm chicken anymore; it's because reading these entries over the course of the year has actually changed my mind. Hearing about all these female physicians (both the bloggers and the commenters) who love being mothers in medicine has inspired me. I'm changed. If you guys love it, then I'm optimistic that I can too. Maybe I'm just giddy about graduating residency, but I no longer feel a dire need to tell young female pre-meds to run before it's too late.
So I guess for my 50th post, I'd like to say thanks. Thanks to everyone who posted or commented about how being a physician mama is a gift that only a few of us get to experience. I needed that.
So here goes:
When I joined this blog back in its infancy, one year ago, I had an ulterior motive. The truth was that I felt that going into medicine was a huge mistake for any woman who wanted to become a mother. And I was determined to share that opinion.
Anyone who has read some of my earlier posts would know that I came dangerously close to blurting out that opinion on several occasions, but I always just barely stopped short and ended with some cheesy phrase like, "But it's all worth it." I didn't say what I truly felt because I was scared. I knew this opinion would not be popular. Nobody wants to hear that a woman shouldn't follow her career aspirations just because she wants to have a family. And moreover, I was embarrassed to admit that after seven grueling years of training and 100's of thousands of dollars in tuition, I had major regrets. But I felt that it was important and needed to be said.
(Maybe that's why I've written so much. I'm like the guy who buys twenty unneeded items at the newsstand, hoping the one issue of Playboy goes unnoticed.)
A year later, I still haven't made a definitive post warning mothers-to-be not to go into medicine. But not because I'm chicken anymore; it's because reading these entries over the course of the year has actually changed my mind. Hearing about all these female physicians (both the bloggers and the commenters) who love being mothers in medicine has inspired me. I'm changed. If you guys love it, then I'm optimistic that I can too. Maybe I'm just giddy about graduating residency, but I no longer feel a dire need to tell young female pre-meds to run before it's too late.
So I guess for my 50th post, I'd like to say thanks. Thanks to everyone who posted or commented about how being a physician mama is a gift that only a few of us get to experience. I needed that.
once I get through May (June, July, August...)
It's Monday morning, hope y'all had a great weekend. I did, but the weekends haven't been a problem, relaxing with Husband, Just Five, and Almost Three, as silly and lovable as they all are. Work-wise, though, I've noticed a trend I've fallen into all too often of late. I find I'll have a lot on my plate, usually professionally (sometimes personally) and so I say to myself calmly, if I can just get through May, then I'll have a lot less to do. I'll just get through all these deadlines that have crept up on me for early, mid, and late May, and then I'll be set. But of course, then June rolls around and I have yet more decisions to make, work to get started on, tasks to complete, things to prepare... They are things I enjoy, usually, but a lot of things nonetheless!
Well, when I had my little fender bender last Monday (no one was hurt, kids not in the car) I had an all to harsh reminder that it was time to slow down, literally and figuratively. Might not have been my fault, after all, in an accident you don't intentionally bump into another car, maybe it bumped into you. Who knows? Then, get this, after the accident and exchanging information and seeing that every one's okay, and taking care of all those necessary details, I got back in my car, drove to my morning meeting, walked in a few minutes late apologizing that I had an unexpected delay, and proceeded to lead the meeting for which I'd set the agenda. Only afterwards did I share what had happened with a trusted colleague, and then with my mom (with whom I cried on the phone) and had already called my ever so supportive ("It could happen to any of us") husband.
So, I've decided to slow down, this month, now, today. You?
Well, when I had my little fender bender last Monday (no one was hurt, kids not in the car) I had an all to harsh reminder that it was time to slow down, literally and figuratively. Might not have been my fault, after all, in an accident you don't intentionally bump into another car, maybe it bumped into you. Who knows? Then, get this, after the accident and exchanging information and seeing that every one's okay, and taking care of all those necessary details, I got back in my car, drove to my morning meeting, walked in a few minutes late apologizing that I had an unexpected delay, and proceeded to lead the meeting for which I'd set the agenda. Only afterwards did I share what had happened with a trusted colleague, and then with my mom (with whom I cried on the phone) and had already called my ever so supportive ("It could happen to any of us") husband.
So, I've decided to slow down, this month, now, today. You?
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Better than a birthday
The one year anniversary of Mothers in Medicine is like a birthday for me, but better. I guess it's like a birthday back in the day when getting a year older was the most awesome thing that could happen to you. Like that day, a month ago, when my daughter woke up and said, "I'm FOUR!" with so much enthusiasm, I thought I could see fireworks and rockets swirling around her head. Turning four was so good.
I think from the idea of wanting to start a group blog of physician-mothers to the actual launch was possibly 2 weeks or less. Things happened quickly. I distinctly remember driving home one night after some event with my husband and having The Idea. That's what we need! A group blog! For mothers! In medicine! After that, it was all momentum.
Starting out, I didn't know the majority of women who joined me to become regular contributors. But, over the past year, in writing together the joys and struggles and challenges and humor that come with this territory, they have become friends.
This year has been amazing. Amazing to see the growth of this blog community which continues to steadily grow. We've had 5 topic days. 18 guest posts. Over 290 posts. Over 120,000 page loads. I'm excited to see what this next year brings.
And probably some of the best moments have been hearing from you, the readers, about what Mothers in Medicine means to you. I encourage you to write in, give feedback, suggestions, submit guest posts, be involved. Because we are all in this together.
In reflecting on this year's posts and what stood out for me, I realized many of them have already been highlighted by my fellow MiM writers. Yet, there was one that wasn't: we received a comment to one of the posts that was so, well, amazing, that we posted it as a guest post proper, even though we never did track down who it was that left the comment.
Guest Post: A comment from a daughter
Thanks for reading (and sharing your stories),
KC
I think from the idea of wanting to start a group blog of physician-mothers to the actual launch was possibly 2 weeks or less. Things happened quickly. I distinctly remember driving home one night after some event with my husband and having The Idea. That's what we need! A group blog! For mothers! In medicine! After that, it was all momentum.
Starting out, I didn't know the majority of women who joined me to become regular contributors. But, over the past year, in writing together the joys and struggles and challenges and humor that come with this territory, they have become friends.
This year has been amazing. Amazing to see the growth of this blog community which continues to steadily grow. We've had 5 topic days. 18 guest posts. Over 290 posts. Over 120,000 page loads. I'm excited to see what this next year brings.
And probably some of the best moments have been hearing from you, the readers, about what Mothers in Medicine means to you. I encourage you to write in, give feedback, suggestions, submit guest posts, be involved. Because we are all in this together.
In reflecting on this year's posts and what stood out for me, I realized many of them have already been highlighted by my fellow MiM writers. Yet, there was one that wasn't: we received a comment to one of the posts that was so, well, amazing, that we posted it as a guest post proper, even though we never did track down who it was that left the comment.
Guest Post: A comment from a daughter
Thanks for reading (and sharing your stories),
KC
Friday, May 29, 2009
MiM celebrates one year: Fizzy
The end of this month marks Mothers in Medicine's one year anniversary. In honor of this great occasion, I asked our writers to share their favorite post (of their own) from the last year. Throughout the month, I'll be highlighting their picks.
Fizzy wins the prize for most prolific writer on MiM. While being a resident! (Any future resident writers: you have big shoes to fill!) Fizzy has made us laugh on a regular basis with her posts, which have become a staple of this blog. She's a PM&R resident, soon to finish, and mother to a toddler girl.
Fizzy writes:
It was hard to pick a favorite post, since I've written.... holy crap, 44 of them! But it would probably be this one:
http://www.mothersinmedicine.com/2008/08/mothers-dont-let-your-daughters-be.html
Fizzy, your unique writing style and contributions have rounded out MiM --you have woven your voice into the fabric of our community and have made it richer, funnier, and fuller. Thank you for being a part of MiM!
Fizzy wins the prize for most prolific writer on MiM. While being a resident! (Any future resident writers: you have big shoes to fill!) Fizzy has made us laugh on a regular basis with her posts, which have become a staple of this blog. She's a PM&R resident, soon to finish, and mother to a toddler girl.
Fizzy writes:
It was hard to pick a favorite post, since I've written.... holy crap, 44 of them! But it would probably be this one:
http://www.mothersinmedicine.com/2008/08/mothers-dont-let-your-daughters-be.html
Fizzy, your unique writing style and contributions have rounded out MiM --you have woven your voice into the fabric of our community and have made it richer, funnier, and fuller. Thank you for being a part of MiM!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
MiM celebrates one year: dr. whoo
The end of this month marks Mothers in Medicine's one year anniversary. In honor of this great occasion, I asked our writers to share their favorite post (of their own) from the last year. Throughout the month, I'll be highlighting their picks.
Her choices involve a) her contribution to the Topic Day on "Things we wish we knew in medical school" --apparently a popular source of favorite posts for MiM bloggers; 2) a raw look at working in the trenches of medical culture where there is still a difference in treatment between male and female physicians (Boys Club); 3) continuing struggles to balance work and home life (How do you do it all?).
dr. whoo writes from the heart, with a clear point of view. Her love for the work she does is inspiring. We're rooting for her to be able to strike the work-life balance with a better job on the horizon. Thank you, dr. whoo, for being a part of MiM. We're looking forward to hearing all about your new adventures to come.
dr. whoo, an ob/gyn and mother of 2, is a veteran blogger with a popular personal blog with an awesome name. I mean, Ob/Gyn Kenobi, is brilliant, no? We were thrilled when she joined Mothers in Medicine as a regular contributor shortly after we launched.
dr. whoo writes:
Hi KC! Favorite post? Hmmmm, I think I would pick "What My Medical School Accpetance Letter Didn't Say..." I also liked "Boys Club" and "How do you do it all?"Her choices involve a) her contribution to the Topic Day on "Things we wish we knew in medical school" --apparently a popular source of favorite posts for MiM bloggers; 2) a raw look at working in the trenches of medical culture where there is still a difference in treatment between male and female physicians (Boys Club); 3) continuing struggles to balance work and home life (How do you do it all?).
dr. whoo writes from the heart, with a clear point of view. Her love for the work she does is inspiring. We're rooting for her to be able to strike the work-life balance with a better job on the horizon. Thank you, dr. whoo, for being a part of MiM. We're looking forward to hearing all about your new adventures to come.
Friendship and Female Physicians
I've noticed over the past several years that it hasn't always been easy for me to make friends.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm the reason. Am I simply un-like-able?
When I was in grade school I constantly found myself blurting out goofy things and wincing afterward. I'm sure my social awkwardness cost me some friendships at that age.
Then there was high school Oy. Recently a friend from high school whom I've always admired told me I could sometimes be intimidating back then. ME?! Intimidating?! But I'm so sweet! And shy, and awkward! And un-tall! But I suppose my love of Renaissance history, French poetry, and molecular biology might have struck some people as off-putting...
I had a great time in college. I found like-minded people, kindred spirits, people in different spheres who loved a lot of the same activities, subjects, books, etc. I made some life-long friends in college, as many of us do (and a few good friends in med school and internship as well, though not as many).
I can think of a few things that can make building new friendships and maintaining existing ones hard after college. Relocation. Marriage. Parenthood. Jobs.
And if your job is in medicine as a resident of some kind, you get the added challenge of sleeplessness, no time, no energy, no patience, high stress, contact with suffering on a daily basis, making lonely decisions in what can be an isolating profession, all free time spent sleeping or running errands. Relationships of all kinds suffer during residency; friendships are no exception.
But I think there's yet an additional layer for female doctors. I can't quite put my finger on what it's made of, but it's there.
When people find out you're a doctor - that's if you can even get around to meeting new people in the first place - sometimes their whole vibe toward you can change. It's almost imperceptible, but there's a turn somewhere. It's there. A pulling back, maybe, or the inexplicable sudden presence of an invisible veil between you and the person you'd like to befriend who happens not to be a physician.
I'm not sure why that happens, or even if I'm making something out of nothing. Women-doctors want to hang out and watch chick flicks as much as any group of women friends, or go to cafes to chat, or cook together. Why the sudden barriers?
I have a friend - a drop-dead gorgeous, brilliant, super-sweet, supportive-beyond-measure, talented, couldn't-be-nicer friend, fellow-mom, and fellow-physician - who meets with a group of women on a regular basis to engage in a much-enjoyed activity. She told me that for a long time she didn't tell the other members of the group she was a doctor. She was concerned they might not be as relaxed, or their attitude to her might change, with the knowledge of her profession. I have another, newer friend - also multi-talented, also a fellow-mom and physician, very nice, with lots of different interests - who has observed a shift in others when she strikes up a conversation but then reveals that she's a doctor.
I don't think we're all just imagining this. There's something about us female physicians that seems to make some people hesitate to get too close, which makes making friends even harder in the context of busy, demanding lives juggling work and family. I tried googling "women doctors" and "friendship" to see if I could learn more, but no one seems to be talking about this much, or I'm not looking in the right places, or no one else thinks there's an issue.
Do male physicians experience anything similar? Am I just being over-sensitive? I don't know. But I do think the whole subject of physicians and friendship in general, and women doctors in particular, is worth exploring.
Cross-posted at Notes of an Anesthesioboist.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Future Mother in Medicine?
I was reading a story on the Washington Post about a girl graduating high school with 13 years of perfect attendance. She has not missed one day of school in 13 years.
It's easy enough to say that this is a great accomplishment, one to be proud of, but I'd actually say it's a little bit scary that such a young person feels so driven that they did not stay home once since the age of 5. *cough cough* Sound a little familiar to some of you?
I think it's really admirable to have perfect attendance, but not at the expense of being human. This student was mourning the fact that she couldn't go visit colleges because she was unable to miss a day of class. Although I snickered a little bit at these warped priorities, I have to say that I've been guilty of the same line of thinking myself. I recall last year that I dragged myself to work with a really bad stomach bug when any normal person would have stayed home. Instead, I went to the bathroom to vomit between patients. (Yes, I had mints.)
On another occasion, I went to clinic when I had severe laryngitis. I could barely speak a word. I don't know how I thought I was going to interview patients... sign language? As soon as I opened my mouth, my attending said to me, "OH MY GOD, GO HOME." I would have tried to argue with her but I couldn't talk.
Come to think of it, I was kind of the same way in high school.
The end of the article states that this girl is going to be pre-med in college. What a shock, right? She'll fit right in.
Of course, I want my daughter to have a good work ethic, but I don't want her to feel like she's not allowed to be sick, the way I do. A mother always wants her child to inherit her good traits, not her bad traits... I'm not sure where this sense extreme responsibility fits in there.
It's easy enough to say that this is a great accomplishment, one to be proud of, but I'd actually say it's a little bit scary that such a young person feels so driven that they did not stay home once since the age of 5. *cough cough* Sound a little familiar to some of you?
I think it's really admirable to have perfect attendance, but not at the expense of being human. This student was mourning the fact that she couldn't go visit colleges because she was unable to miss a day of class. Although I snickered a little bit at these warped priorities, I have to say that I've been guilty of the same line of thinking myself. I recall last year that I dragged myself to work with a really bad stomach bug when any normal person would have stayed home. Instead, I went to the bathroom to vomit between patients. (Yes, I had mints.)
On another occasion, I went to clinic when I had severe laryngitis. I could barely speak a word. I don't know how I thought I was going to interview patients... sign language? As soon as I opened my mouth, my attending said to me, "OH MY GOD, GO HOME." I would have tried to argue with her but I couldn't talk.
Come to think of it, I was kind of the same way in high school.
The end of the article states that this girl is going to be pre-med in college. What a shock, right? She'll fit right in.
Of course, I want my daughter to have a good work ethic, but I don't want her to feel like she's not allowed to be sick, the way I do. A mother always wants her child to inherit her good traits, not her bad traits... I'm not sure where this sense extreme responsibility fits in there.
MiM celebrates one year: FreshMD
The end of this month marks Mothers in Medicine's one year anniversary. In honor of this great occasion, I asked our writers to share their favorite post (of their own) from the last year. Throughout the month, I'll be highlighting their picks.
FreshMD was one of the first women I recruited to join MiM. I came across her personal blog and fell a little bit in love. Since then, we've enjoyed her poignant, articulate, witty, insightful posts here on Mothers in Medicine.
She writes:
"Hmmm, hard to decide. I think this one: http://www.mothersinmedicine.com/2008/11/full-days-work-by-9-am.html
It was fun to review them! I don't remember writing some parts. Some of the details about my son breaking his arm I had no recollection of."
FreshMD was one of the first women I recruited to join MiM. I came across her personal blog and fell a little bit in love. Since then, we've enjoyed her poignant, articulate, witty, insightful posts here on Mothers in Medicine.
She writes:
"Hmmm, hard to decide. I think this one: http://www.mothersinmedicine.com/2008/11/full-days-work-by-9-am.html
It was fun to review them! I don't remember writing some parts. Some of the details about my son breaking his arm I had no recollection of."
FreshMD, thank you, for writing with us for the past year. We wouldn't be the same without you. (And while we are sad to hear you will no longer be posting at your personal blog, we are glad you will be able to pursue new creative endeavors and thrilled we can still read your words and insight here.)
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Dandelion poetry
We brought dinner to the beach last week, and afterwards we walked out to the dock and played along the shore. Leif found a cluster of dandelions gone to seed and hunched over, snapping the hollow milky stems and double fisting his prize.
"I'm going to make a wish!" he said. "I wish for . . . " I could see him searching for something extravagant. "A chocolate cake!" he said expansively.
puff puff spit huff spit puff
"I'm not going to blow anymore. I'm just going to whack the wishes off now," he said, striking the fluff balls against the railing, then plucking them apart manually. "Look - a school of wishes!" He watched them drift off in a hazy clump. "Hey! The wishes are all hugging each other!" And then he spotted some goslings and trotted off down the beach.
How wonderful to wish for chocolate cake. To have to think hard for something to wish for, to have all your needs met, to have no cares or sickness or worries to wish away.
For me, my children and their pure, unspoiled interactions with the world are the most potent antidote to the suffering I witness at work and sometimes carry home with me as a little black cloud over my heart.
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