What Exactly Is Coaching?

This being a blog made of women physicians, I thought it would be prudent to write a post about Coaching. If you haven't noticed on the socials, coaching - a fixture in the corporate leadership world for some time - is really taking off in the physician and professional wellness space. There are coaches for every sort of physician wellness niche issue you might be facing: burnout, getting unstuck, work-life balance, negotiations, finances, parenting, weight loss, etc. And with some exceptions, these coaches are predominantly women. During the takeoff of the pandemic, coaching programs around the problems of PPE stress, furloughs, homeschooling, and quarantine were everywhere. 

I used to think coaching was for CEOs or entrepreneurs. High-powered execs who use The Secret and go to Tony Robbins events. Yet now, in our current landscape as women physicians, there's never been a better time to get some coaching.

My experience

When I was in the throes of burnout and self-care failure years ago, I had a coach. He was the spouse of my residency mentor, a person versed in executive problem solving with a thriving business and book on the subject. My sessions with him were so incredibly insightful; he helped me embark on the self-knowledge journey that I started during my sick leave... which ultimately lead me to starting PracticeBalance!

Yes I have a supportive family. I have a great relationship with my husband, and we openly communicate about everything in our lives. I've also seen a therapist during particularly dark times. But until I had a coach, I never realized just how powerful it can be to have an objective person listen to you, whose sole job is to listen without judgement, and help you analyze your thoughts.

It's like, all of a sudden, you gain CLARITY: on directions, on decisions, on values. Yet YOU are the one who solves your own problems... with some gentle help. I've had other coaches since, and I have one now.

The Power of Clarity

Is coaching effective?

Aside from the fact that it's very popular to have a coach right now, it's also effective. A 2019 study in JAMA found that primary care physicians randomized to a 6 month professional coaching program reported lower rates of emotional exhaustion of overall burnout. A 2020 study in the Journal of Occupational Health Psychology of a six-session coaching intervention found the same. And these studies are now extending to medical students and residents.

Coaching can take place in different settings: group, one-on-one, in person or virtual. Sometimes sessions involve themes, lessons, or mini lectures, and other times it is completely client-led. Sessions can last anywhere from 45-90 minutes, and as the coachee, you should expect to be put "on the spot". Coaching is about YOU. And expect to have homework between sessions. Also, the most effective coaching will involve follow-up, as you see demonstrated in the above cited studies. One-off sessions aren't completely useless, but part of the coaching experience is the accountability to take what you've learned/realized and apply it to your life... then report back to your coach.

Coaching vs. other things

How is coaching different from therapy, or even mentoring? Coaching takes a collaborative approach that is often future-focused and/or goal-focused, with the intent of changing behavior or thought patterns. Therapy tends to focus on past traumas and other experiences as root causes of behavior or thought patterns. Whereas coaches ask focused questions to help clients gain better self-awareness so as to institute their own changes, mentors offer advice and more concrete guidance.

What kinds of things can you expect to discuss in a coaching session? That depends on your coach, and why you sought out the coaching in the first place. (Full disclosure: coaching is a service I offer through PracticeBalance.) While I personally love to guide physicians on journeys of self-knowledge and self-care, my approach has been to individualize coaching based on what each client needs: more frequent sessions vs. less frequent sessions, higher structure vs. gently guided conversations. But some exercises I always suggest are mindfulness techniques and self-knowledge assessments; which ones depend on the individual client's interests and lifestyle.

How do you know if a coach is qualified? Unlike the practice of medicine, the field of coaching does not currently have an over-arching, governing body of certification. A "certified" coach is not necessarly better than a non-certified one; it really depends on the coach's experience - both with clients and within themselves. Kind of like a senior resident or a newly-minted attending vs. the senior physician with tremendous academic accolades, recent life experience can trump a pedigree when it comes to the quality of care you receive. In my opinion, in addition to basic listening and questioning skills, a good coach for you is someone who's experienced the pain points you're going through and has successfully moved past them.

Have you ever had a coach - even a traditional coach for athletic performance? What was it like, and what did you learn? Share your thoughts below in the comments.

(A version of this post first appeared on the blog PracticeBalance)

Expectations and Realities

I will finally sign out that last autopsy that is due in 9 days so that this time I don't wait until day 60.
*I call my husband on day 60 and tell him I'll be staying really late to finish an autopsy, but I'll be home for Punky's bed time, for sure; she gets to bed 30 minutes late.

Tonight I get home from work before 6:00pm and I'm definitely going to wash my makeup sponges and re-order whatever stuff I'm low on from Sephora.
*A friend texts with a work crisis and I write back-and-forth for 45 minutes until I have to break for bath time.

For sure this time I will buy our plane tickets for our holiday travel at least three months ahead of time to save money.
*Three weeks before the trip I'm scrambling for the last three seats on the plane, surely paying at least $200 more per ticket. Again.

After Punky's bath tonight, I am definitely going to change her sheets and thin out her clothing that she's outgrown for donation.
*I spend that 25 minutes recording (for posterity) the funniest conversation that she and I had about unicorns vs. mermaids while she was in the bath.

Today will be such a good day at work; I have been off for a week and I am back and refreshed with an empty queue to start.
*43 new cases in the queue, Pedi GI calls and asks for a stat run on a liver biopsy for possible atresia, three separate colleagues come in with "sorry, I have a few quick cases that need review, and they're kinda old" and then the outlying problem hospital calls to say that a surgeon is screaming about a lost specimen and I need to call him NOW.

I will be the first one to sign up for what to bring to the next pre-K class party; I will definitely get paper plates or napkins this time!
*The list comes out when I'm on call and can't bring Punky to school or pick her up for a week; I cut an array of colorful fresh fruit for 1.7 hours at midnight and arrange them into an appealing rainbow configuration in an act of self-flagellation.

I will schedule a nice, easy play date with Punky's school friend that has the really nice and friendly mom to bolster my only child's social skills.
*I finally text her 14 weeks after I first committed to it in my mind, schedule them to come to our house for the upcoming Saturday, spend three hours the night before cleaning the house,  and then drink a mimosa beforehand to ease the path to small talk. It goes fine. The anxiety regarding the next play date begins immediately after the front door closes behind them.

I will work extra hard to keep up efficiency today and just work on my cases, one after another, until they are all completed before I do anything extra because I know that I'm too far behind already this week.
*I work steadily for 45 minutes, then make a doctor's appt for myself that I've been putting off for two years, make sure bills are paid, finally order Christmas gifts for my oldest friend's five kids so they get there in time (converted from birthday gifts, because I decide to face it, remembering five extra birthdays annually is essentially never going to happen), and make that rage donation to Amy McGrath (because Moscow Mitch did something heinous *again*) so I don't forget to do it later. Only half of my cases are signed out. Crap.

I really want to spend the 20 min of Punky's bath time doing color-by-number on my iPad.
*I fold two more baskets of other people's laundry and force myself to put away the clothes.

Tonight I will definitely clear off the clutter from the kitchen table that we never use for eating, because I know that my husband hates this state of affairs.
*I put approximately four pieces of paper into recycling, photograph 16 pieces of artwork for Keepy and throw them away, then realize that I need to answer my MOC quarterly questions now since the thought just popped into my head and if I don't do it I'll miss the deadline.

This year, I will wrap presents as they come in to keep caught up.
*I place gifts in reusable cloth bags on a random midnight a few days before Christmas in place of sleeping.

I will definitely complete all four of the reminders I set on my phone for internet errands today.
*At 1:23 am, I sigh and change the dates on all four phone reminders to tomorrow's date. Well, technically *today's* date.

I will work on that amazing wooden puzzle tonight after putting Punky to bed and eating something.
*I scroll thru my Facebook feed for 1.75 hours reading the news, getting angry; I see a couple of cute kids and I feel a little better.

It's been weeks since I've had a work day off with the kid in daycare, I will definitely knock out at least four of my running to-do-at-home jobs off the list I keep on my phone, including setting up the Roomba that I bought two months ago which is sitting in it's box in the corner of the utility room.
*I drop off Punky, "stop in" to World Market for 1.4 hours, then head over to Target to wander around for another two, finally getting home at 1:45 pm and folding laundry/hanging clothes in the closest while listening to podcasts and scrolling Instagram until I have to pick up Punky at 5:30pm; the Roomba remains unopened.

I will make sure that this year, we get our family photos done in October so that I can get the cards completed in November.
*I panic and realize that the weekend before Thanksgiving is the last of the semi-decent leaf color and implore my husband to check out that spot that he's been meaning to look at for photography; cards are completed on December 8th and mailed on December 15th.

I will definitely go to bed in the 12:00 hour tonight; I really need a couple extra hours of sleep this week.
*I jolt awake at 2:34am, scroll back through the Schitt's Creek episode list to figure out exactly how many episodes I missed on auto-play, and finish cleaning up the kitchen before brushing teeth and falling into bed.

I will set a recurring reminder in my phone to write a blog post for MiM at some point so they don't kick me off the site.
*I sit at my desk at work at spew this out instead of signing out cases or validating immunostains, because, well, it's just time.

On Well-being

Physician burnout and mental health have been on my mind lately. Considering the many articles I’ve read recently on these topics, I’m sure it’s been on your mind too. I’m part of an initiative at my organization to address physician burnout and improve wellness among staff, both at the individual and systemic levels. I find this recent article on Kevin MD an interesting idea. Given all the metrics we tailor our system to based on patient care, safety and satisfaction, it’s an innovative twist to ask that our wellness, or lack thereof, be a goal marker as well.

Ultimately, our well-being affects how well we care for our patients and even their outcomes. The cynical part of me thinks the only way we can really get our healthcare system to change and address the epidemic of physician burnout is to tie those levels to dollar signs. There is a strong argument for the financial benefits of physician wellness and many organizations seem to be acknowledging that reality and investing more in this issue.

As mothers and physicians we’re used to putting others’ needs before our own. But I’ve realized over the years that I’m a better caregiver - to my children and to my patients - when I’m practicing good self-care. In the world of healthcare though, systems need to be in place to support that ability.

What are your thoughts? What has been successful or not so successful at your organization? Has your workplace found ways to encourage not only personal resilience but also support an organizational culture of wellness?

Bridging the Wellness Gap

I have to give a shout out to my hospital (University of Utah*) and my department (Anesthesiology). We are trying. In the age when burnout is rampant and physicians are frequently leaving clinical medicine, we are working to foster camaraderie and resilience. A few examples:

The women in my department recently held an ad hoc Ladies' Lunch. We do this every once in a while, approximately once a year, but we should work on making it more frequent. It's merely a casual potluck lunch held at a faculty member's house for all the female anesthesia residents and attendings, but for me it represents more. Because I work part time in such a large group, I can go weeks to months without seeing some of the other faculty. Anesthesiologists practice their specialty alone, so in order to process work-related issues we have to consciously make an effort to seek out those connections. Our blue scrubs and hats were replaced with sundresses and sandals, and the conversation turned from patients to children, schools, and summer vacation plans. Resident MDs who have yet to venture into practice ate lunch alongside veteran tenured professors. Many of us are moms, with children ranging from 8 weeks to 19 years old. I learned some useful school information from a few of my colleagues with grade school-age girls. It was also interesting to talk to a couple of the ladies who work exclusively in the pain clinic, sharing stories about work environment and frustrations with the medical system. Two babies even made appearances: one wide-eyed, active 11 month old and one brand new infant attached to her mother's breast at the buffet table!

We started an intra-department monthly wellness newsletter (managed by my colleague Dr. Jennifer DeCou), which not only includes interesting personal tidbits about faculty members but also links and info for wellness resources. In addition, Jen has spearheaded a plan for immediate support, in the forms of work relief and counseling, when any anesthesiology practitioner experiences a sentinel event or a bad outcome in the OR.

Our hospital just opened a Resiliency Center on the medical school campus. It provides a space and some resources for relaxation, but the main advantage of this addition is a dedicated space where for on site, free and confidential counseling services. I have personally utilized the services of the third party counseling group on two occasions during my employment already: once when I experienced a health scare during my residency, and again when I underwent infertility treatment. It was invaluable to me, and now it will be even easier for employees to access the benefit since it will be in such close proximity to our workplace.

The piece de resistance... our hospital recently opened a faculty lounge that feels like an airline sky club. Attending physicians from all specialties are invited to use it for eating, changing, working, conferencing, meeting, sleeping... it has all of those features. Not to mention two fully automatic coffee drink dispensers! We have never had a physicians' only lounge before, and I'm excited to socialize there more with doctors of other specialties.

Where we could do better: childcare. As physicians, our schedules are often unpredictable and out of our own control. I live in fear of the midday call from my daycare that my child is sick on a day that my husband is unavailable to extract her, or the moment I get stuck in the OR with no one to pick her up at the end of the day. Some physician friends work at places where there is on sight, low cost childcare with extended hours, which to me would be the ultimate benefit. Within the past year, my hospital has at least added a backup care resource to their benefit package, but my experience using it so far has not been seamless.

Does your hospital, clinic, or practice group offer any unique services or facilities to enhance your work experience and promote wellness? Share them here so we may all get ideas to bring back to our own places of work!



* The opinions expressed here represent my own experiences and are not those of my hospital or department.

Time To Move On

Hi, I’m new here.  And very honored to be here, at that.  I’m a pathologist, in private practice for > 5 years (settling in to the flatter portion at the top of the exponential career curve of knowledge/abject terror), but < 10 years (I suspect, the point on that curve at which cynicism overrides all other basal functions and drives one towards a retirement countdown sticker chart).

I’m in my second post-training big-girl-pants job, and I’ve been here for a little over 8 years.  I briefly tangled with a super-crap job, lasting only six months right out of training, working for a very bad man rocking various personality disorders.....but that will be another story for another day.  This current job is where I became an adult.  And this job is where I damn near had my love for pathology drained of my brain completely.  But it’s time to move on, and I’m doing just that.

Over a period of years, I had somehow found myself struggling to get through the work day, doing twice as much work as is safe to do, getting paid a quarter of the money being made off of my back.  I had become everything to everyone in my office and to the clinicians in the hospital, and nothing to myself professionally. I hated every minute of it.  And my marriage was suffering for the long hours, which I finally figured out after hearing myself in every conversation trying to justify my absences. It just didn't sound authentic to me. Working 60+ hours a week as a pathologist is not particularly normal. But it took a while for me to figure this out -- Stockholm syndrome is real, ya'll. And then, nearly exactly two years ago I had a gorgeous baby girl, induced at 36+1 weeks for oligohydramnios, weighing in at a whopping 4 lbs 15 oz.  And my placenta was just as small as that tiny girl, 5th percentile.  Everything was "fine" until it wasn't.  I've since learned that many of the births to female docs in similar situations to myself are premature for various reasons, commonly for oligo……………can’t help but think there is a link there. 

I’ve worked with some wonderful people over the years while doing this job.  Most of the ones who have stayed for longer than a year are the type that persevere long past the expiration date, and they just keep on going.  Each seems to have his or her own reason for doing so:  'finish what you start', 'I cannot be defeated', 'everyone will like me eventually', 'it’s not really that bad', 'I deserve this pain', 'it is too hard to change'.  What is my reason?  I’ve already made too many mistakes.  This can’t be another one.  I can make this work.  My family is depending on me.

Life is too short to stay in a job that is soul-crushing.  No job is perfect certainly, but no job should harm your psychic core or fizzle your spark.  If you don’t recognize the person that you were, that idealistic nerdling resident, marveling at those exquisite enterocytes mingling with those gorgeous goblet cells, and you can’t find her deep down in there somewhere………..it’s time to make a change. And preferably before that gal has packed up her shit and moved to the outer recesses of the universe, never to be seen or heard from again.  Mistakes will always be made, some big and some small, but they can always be corrected.  Be the change, as they say (whoever they may be).  You always have the power to make things better.  I have become a path beast during my time here, and now I’m doing my best not to become a pathological beast.  Put yourself into the situation that you want to be in, whatever that may be.  It could take awhile, sometimes may even take eight years and some major life changes.  Remove yourself from the people and entities who take everything from you and give nothing back in return.  I’m doing just that in short order.  Even though it’s a move to a more backward state than the one in which I currently reside, but that’s yet another story for another day………

Take care of yourself first, the rest will follow.

Progress and peace to my fellow burnout warriors :0)
TheUnluckyPath

Witnessing sorrow and grief; taking trauma home.

About a week ago, I awoke to the news of the Orlando mass shooting-that 49 people had been murdered in the Pulse nightclub--for no other reason than that they were gay, and most were Latinx. The mass shooting du jour in America. You know the rest of the story, because unfortunately we've all heard these stories repeatedly. But it made me wonder about something else, tangentially related--but related to us in our work.

I came across a Facebook post by Dr. Joshua Korsa, an Orlando resident who described his experience caring for the surviving victims. Check out his story here (original post) or here (short news story)--. The "tangible reminder" he refers to below? His blood soaked Keens. He writes (about the survivors of the shooting):

"They've become a part of me. It's in me. I feel like I have to carry that reminder with me as long as [those patients] are still under my care. So this is a tangible reminder that the work's not done. That there's still a long way to go" 

Later I read the NY Times' "Orlando Medical Examiner: ‘Take a Typical Homicide Scene, Multiply It by 50" which was just amazing (for lack of a better word)--in less than 48 hours they were able to identify all 49 victims and in less than 72 hours autopsies were done on every single one of them. That's a logistical accomplishment and an emotional....quagmire. I cannot imagine being a part of that. I cannot imagine how hard that must have been. What exceptional work-- bringing confirmation to each of the 49 families and countless loved ones involved.

But wow, logistics aside--consider for a moment about the pathologists and technicians who did this work, who painstakingly photographed each victim, prepared them for transport to the morgue, the pathologist/assistants who later performed the autopsies, cleaned the bodies--these are the unrecognized people behind the scenes in such catastrophic events. How are they doing this week? How are the police officers? The crime scene technicians? Are they ok? How do people that witness such awful mass casualties cope? 

So that got me thinking (this is how my ADHD brain works, one topic to another, bouncing along)...WE deal with some really difficult stuff.  Not mass casualties (I don't think most of us do, anyway) but day to day casualties of life. Car accidents. People losing limbs. Diabetes, heart attacks, cancer, strokes. Kids dying. Homicides, suicides, accidents. Alcoholism. Lung cancer. New diagnoses of leukemia (surprise! you didn't just "have the flu"!). Homelessness. Stillbirths. Domestic violence. And so on. It's a lot to deal with.

How do you deal with the anger, death, violence, despair, stress, grief in your job? Sometimes it isn't even the death that's so hard, it's the sorrow, the daily witnessing of human distress. Death is a separate entity, and varies in it's impact on me--some deaths leave me with a sense of calm, some break my heart and I swear I never want to go back to work again (but I keep showing up.). Some don't seem to affect me emotionally much at all, and that's ok too. Every one is different.

As I walked around the oncology ICU recently, several rooms were empty-- and I realized as I walked around that I associate almost every room with a patient I have cared for in that room--and who has since died. I often think of them as I pass by (Oh, that's J's room...oh, that was D's room...etc).

As I walked down the long hallway to grab lunch, I thought:

• M's room-she was my age--she died in that room over there, overlooking the water. She and her husband were avid skiers and mountaineers and he shared incredible pictures of their adventures together. I swallowed back tears during rounds that day; that was the second time I'd cried that day. M died of relapsed leukemia and candidemia. 
• D's room-she coded suddenly, and died before her daughter could make it in. The chaplain put her daughter on speaker phone so she could say goodbye to her mom as her mom underwent CPR ("Tell her she was a good mom....tell her I love her....tell her she was a good grandma"). D died of advanced lung cancer.
• M's room-an older woman with AML, the same age as my mom. Wonderful family, with a toddler grandchild who liked to sit on the bed and who was fascinated by the sat probe on grandma's finger. That boy lit up the room. M died of a disseminated fungal infection. 

And so on. I remember many. 

We carry our patients in our hearts and in our minds--they are with us/in us, year after year. And sometimes memories of them/their deaths are comforting while at times they are heart breaking and hard to revisit--even years later. Some patients/deaths I look back on and I feel peace, and I smile at the memories that surface. Some patients/deaths I think back on and tears still come to my eyes-and the deaths were years ago. Some I look back on and my heart rate increases--because their deaths were so awful that I still have an emotional/visceral response. 

So I wonder. I wonder how the nurses, doctors, EMTs, police, pathologists-how everyone that helped victims of the Orlando massacres is doing. And I hope they're ok. And I'm grateful they were there to face such horror, to run into a scene that hopefully none of us will ever have to face. And I hope now that they've taken care of so many others, that others are taking care of them.

And last but most certainly not least, may we never forget these 49 people, almost entirely queer people of color, murdered en masse for being...themselves. 

ZebraARNP. 

*****************************************************************************

In Memory.

June 12, 2016.

Stanley Almodovar III, 23 years old

Amanda Alvear, 25 years old

Oscar A Aracena-Montero, 26 years old

Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33 years old

Antonio Davon Brown, 29 years old

Darryl Roman Burt II, 29 years old

Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28 years old

Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25 years old

Luis Daniel Conde, 39 years old

Cory James Connell, 21 years old

Tevin Eugene Crosby, 25 years old

Deonka Deidra Drayton, 32 years old

Simon Adrian Carrillo Fernandez, 31 years old

Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25 years old

Mercedez Marisol Flores, 26 years old

Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22 years old

Juan Ramon Guerrero, 22 years old

Paul Terrell Henry, 41 years old

Frank Hernandez, 27 years old

Miguel Angel Honorato, 30 years old

Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40 years old

Jason Benjamin Josaphat, 19 years old

Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, 30 years old

Anthony Luis Laureanodisla, 25 years old

Christopher Andrew Leinonen, 32 years old

Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21 years old

Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, 49 years old

Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25 years old

Kimberly Morris, 37 years old

Akyra Monet Murray, 18 years old

Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo, 20 years old

Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25 years old

Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36 years old

Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32 years old

Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, 35 years old

Enrique L. Rios, Jr., 25 years old

Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, 27 years old

Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35 years old

Christopher Joseph Sanfeliz, 24 years old

Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24 years old

Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34 years old

Shane Evan Tomlinson, 33 years old

Martin Benitez Torres, 33 years old

Jonathan Antonio Camuy Vega, 24 years old

Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37 years old

Luis S. Vielma, 22 years old

Franky Jimmy Dejesus Velazquez, 50 years old

Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37 years old

Jerald Arthur Wright, 31 years old

Home Alone

This summer, my three kids spent several weeks with my parents in their home in Connecticut.  For the kids, this is an amazing time when they bond with their grandparents and get away from the city.  For my husband and me, this is an amazing time to spend a few weeks focusing on work, spending kid-free time together, and getting a break from the day to day bustle of life with kids.

This summer I realized another bonus: that I could be HOME ALONE!  Yes, you heard what I said. At home with no kids, no husband, no nanny -- no one but me!

For people without kids, the simple pleasure of being in your own home with no one else around may not seem that exciting but for a mom who never (and I really mean never) gets to be home alone,  this simple pleasure is on par with fancy dinners, spa days, and juicy beach reads.  Being home alone is one of the most delightful experiences of my life as a mom.

When it first dawned on me that I could be home alone for hours at a time, I felt like the little kid from the movie Home Alone when he first realized that his family had disappeared during holiday break.  I wanted to sit in my pajamas, eat potato chips, and watch movies all day.

Of course, I had other things to do and couldn’t spend hours on movie marathons but during the two weeks when I had a few hours at home with no one else, I started to think about how rare and important alone time is.  

There’s something peaceful and rejuvenating about being in your own home when no one else is there. And it’s different to be home alone rather than other places alone.  I am alone in my office a lot but that’s different. I try to get along time by going to the spa or going to a bookstore but that too is different – it doesn’t last for long and I’m not in my own private space.

As working moms, I wish we could have more times home alone.  Not just quiet time after the kids are in bed but real time – hours when we are not exhausted, can have the freedom and comfort of home, and just enjoy the special place that we have built.  I think many of us are looking for the chance to let our hair down and if not literally but figuratively sit on the couch and watch a movie marathon.

In the months since summer, I have counted the hours when I have been home alone. I don’t think I’ve hit 5 hours yet.  I don’t know if I’ll add any more hours until next summer but there’s no question that I’m already anticipating my two week break and the bliss of my time home alone.

Hot (Scheduling) Mess

There has been a lot written lately about work-life balance. In a session with my Therapist last week, she laughed and said “you’re a Resident, for this last year of residency, I really just want you to survive!” We spent the remainder of our session coming up with ways that I can pay people to do things I don’t have the time to do. And she made me promise to work harder to eat better, sleep more, and exercise more; my turn to laugh. Next week, our family will be trying out a week of made-from-scratch meals from a local organic market while I finish a busy week of nights. And we are looking for a second cleaning person after the first one proved to be a bad fit with our family.

Scheduling time away from work for things like research, board exams, and doctors appointments is an exceedingly stressful aspect of my life. Because we get our schedules pretty late, I try my best to email the our Scheduling Attending and Chiefs at least several months before I think I’ll need time off. Nevertheless, I sometimes get my schedule and there are conflicts and then I have to forward back my original email requesting time off and the hot-scheduling-mess begins.

Last year, when I took my Step 3, I emailed the Scheduling Attending and waited so long for a response that the dates kept filling up. I had to extend my eligibility period and finally had to use research time to take the test. I have heard countless stories from other Residents recounting their shared experiences (many have to use vacation time) and how stressful it is to try to do things you have to do.

This year, my son will be spending my last Intensive Care Unit month with his grandparents while my husband is away doing research. He will spend the first 3 weeks with my parents, but once their vacation time is used up, he’ll spend an additional week with my in-laws. At the suggestion of my husband, I emailed the scheduling Attending and requested off a single day and offered to make it up during my vacation.

I feel guilty that we need our parents to watch him. I feel guilty that I asked for a schedule change. However, it would have been a very stressful and traumatizing experience for all of us if I tried to travel, get Zo acclimated, and get myself ready for life without my family for a whole month in 2 days. And then to make me feel even worse, I get an email saying that the Scheduling Attending talked to my Residency Director and my Clinic Attending and she would like to know if I really need that extra day off. They understand my unique situation but they want to double-check before they reschedule me.

As I began to stifle my tears, my husband came over to rub my back. I explained my distress and he reiterated that even though it’s hard, I have to ask for what I need. He reminded me to not feel bad and that “it’s the culture” of medicine that makes it difficult for folks to realize that what we are asking for is not unheard of.

After taking a break, I responded that yes I do need the day, that I would personally call the 2 patients I have scheduled, and that I again would be more than willing to make it up using a vacation day.

Thus ends this installment of my hot-scheduling-mess until the response email. Dunnn dunnn dunnnnnnnnnnn.

MiM Mail: Burnout (already)?

I am a hospitalist with a 3 year old child and a child on the way and I am burnt out after only four years out of residency.   The prospect of working sickens me and I want to scream when I receive yet another page from the ER about a patient who needs to be admitted with intractable pain/vomiting/weakness with no diagnosis that they could attain.   I am so tired of hearing people's complaints.   I feel like I have not made an ounce of difference in anyone's life.   I am a scut monkey for most physicians and a substitute doctor for their primary care providers.   I no longer get a rush from seeing someone critically ill and helping them become well.  To make matters worse, we are short staffed as many other hospitalist programs are with no candidates thus far.   I am in the process of looking for a job but cannot find one that will pay me not to work.   I wonder on an almost daily basis why I incurred more than $150K of debt to do something that makes me miserable.   I have contemplated switching to a clinic job but cringe at the thought of even longer hours....at least in my current position, I am free to come in and leave when I want as long as I finish my work.   The prospect of another hospitalist job is less than appealing and doing chart reviews seems like a surrender.   I have even wondered what things would be like if I had trained in a different specialty.  Would things be different?  Would I be more satisfied with my job?   My husband is a graduate student and thus the option not to work is not realistic at this point.   What can I do?  How do I overcome this overwhelming sense of disappointment and dread for my life's work?  All my life, I wanted to be a doctor and now I'm here and just want to stay home and play with my child.  

My Postpartum Overhaul: First Physical, and Now Mental

OK, It's a rainy Saturday. I am not on call. My husband is watching our 2 kids (under 2 years old) so I can work out. I just jumped on our Spinning bike and banged out 15 minutes of hard up-down cycling, while watching Cupcake Wars (It makes the time go really fast, and I vicariously enjoy the cupcakes, while actually burning calories!).

I thought up this post in the midst of the workout, and I jumped off the bike. Now I'm sitting here, sweaty, trying to bang out the writing. Meantime I can hear my toddler boy yelling. He's got a cold and is just  cranky, and he wants me. The baby is whimpering, and Hubby will have to make her a bottle one-handed, while our toddler howls and hurls things around the living room.

So let me be brief.

Quick backstory: I'm a part-time internist in group practice, and I had my second baby 5 months ago. My last few posts here on Mothers in Medicine have focused on my journey back to fitness after baby #2. I was 4 weeks postpartum, and realized that at 5' 2" and 163 pounds, I was officially obese. In spite of the fact that I was breastfeeding exclusively, I was gaining weight (and yes, that is common). It was my eating habits. Carbs, carbs, carbs. Bowl of Cheerios here, toast with butter and jam there.

I was shocked, but motivated. I got on the South Beach Diet and I lost a ton of weight. Listen, folks, the low-carb diets work. (I get no endorsement monies from them, BTW) (Though I would take some in a second, if they offered :)

I also started exercising again. For the first 3 months, I just ran outside when I could (though to call it running would be exaggerating. More like jog-walking) and did some Pilates on the floor before bedtime. This month I added back the gym.

And in 4 months, I have lost 30 pounds, down to 133 pounds, only 10 pounds away from my goal. I am well out of obese BMI range, and I feel great. Physically.

However, mentally, I am sagging. Now, Babygirl is still not sleeping through the night. My husband travels for work, alot. Though we have great family support, it is just a hectic schedule. My reserve is low.

But, some days, I find myself just suffering through clinic. The day will start out OK and manageable, and then, as happens not infrequently, I will encounter a difficult patient, and I will just get so down. I mean, so down that I come home and start surfing the net for non-clinical doctor jobs.

Now, the vast majority of my patients are absolutely lovely. Honestly. I have been so boosted, even blown away, by the interest people take in me and my family; by the unsolicited support for my working part-time; by thoughtful cards or baby gifts; by positive feedback on my clinical work

But just one angry/ blaming/ abusive/ demanding patient, and I am just crushed. Even when I am in the right (like in diagnosing an alcohol problem, or not prescribing narcotics). Even when I know the patient has psychological issues, and is only acting out at me because I happen to be sitting there. The negativity will get to me, even if there is no overt confrontation, or raised voices, or complaints. If a patient is unhappy, I feel like a failure. I get shaken, even to the point of physically shaking. I feel like I will have a panic attack in the office.

Colleagues are supportive. We all see many patients a week, and we all have similar experiences, day in and day out. There is plenty of camaraderie, and I can always find someone with whom to vent, and feel validated.

But, at the end of the day, I hate these negative encounters. They make me want to quit my job.

I'm trying to look into this, to see what steps I can take to build resilience so that I don't feel like I need to please everyone; so that I don't feel a failure when a patient is unhappy. I used to be much better at this.

I'm currently looking at the concept of Compassion Fatigue. This is new territory for me. What do other MiM know about this? Is this something that applies? Or am I just an exhausted new mom with little reserve in a demanding profession having a normal experience?