For the duration of this American Idol season, Melly was convinced that Danny Gokey was her father. Every time he came on the screen, she announced, "Dada!" Gokey does sort of look like my husband, in that they both have short dark hair, glasses, and are kind of... um, solid.
My husband was convinced that she was simply calling him "Dada" because he was a man, not because he and Gokey are long-lost brothers or anything. To illustrate this, he pointed to Adam Lambert and said, "Who's this?"
Melly hesitated a second before answering: "Mommy!"
Oh man. For the record, I wear way less eye make-up than Adam Lambert.
Admittedly, this entry didn't have a lot to do with being a mother in medicine, but hey, somebody had to post about the Idol finale (yay Kris). I'll also take this opportunity to announce that according to Melly, my job has now been upgraded from "diaper" to "dopter". Not bad, eh?
Friday, May 22, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
MiM celebrates one year: Artemis
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.
I like both the very first post I did (June 6, 2008), and the March 29, 2009 post.
I remember the June 6 post well, called "Moms in Medicine." Her post really solidified for me why we were coming together: to share stories like this, to support one another, and to celebrate being mothers in medicine.
The March 29, post, "No, Mom, Billy does NOT want to stay for dinner" was a humorous anecdote of a dinnertime conversation that could easily occur in any of our homes.
It's been wondeful getting to know Artemis through her posts this past year. Thank you, Artemis. We are lucky to have you writing with us.
Artemis, a neurologist in a private practice and mother of two teenaged boys, has written with us from the launch. She writes with honesty, insight and wiseness. Her posts make us reflect on our many roles as physician-mothers.
Artemis writes:I like both the very first post I did (June 6, 2008), and the March 29, 2009 post.
I remember the June 6 post well, called "Moms in Medicine." Her post really solidified for me why we were coming together: to share stories like this, to support one another, and to celebrate being mothers in medicine.
The March 29, post, "No, Mom, Billy does NOT want to stay for dinner" was a humorous anecdote of a dinnertime conversation that could easily occur in any of our homes.
It's been wondeful getting to know Artemis through her posts this past year. Thank you, Artemis. We are lucky to have you writing with us.
Monday, May 18, 2009
MiM celebrates one year: T
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.
T is one of the original contributors to MiM and over the year, has contributed honest, witty, real posts about being a pediatrician mother in a 2 physician/researcher family. T writes:
"As I think back to my first MIM post one year ago, get out much, let me report on all the progress my husband and I have made. END of post.
Alas, I'm inclined to say that we've made no progress on the get out much as a twosome front. We still spend our evenings and weekends As A Family. Haven't identified a babysitter. Haven't seen a movie. One or both of us has put them to bed every night of their lives. We did go out on a "date" recently, but it was to an auction/fundraiser at our kids' preschool and they were there in an adjacent room!
Nonetheless, there's been progress of other sorts, indeed. Just Five is learning to swim and to read (now enjoying chapter books read together like Franny K Stein, Nancy Drew, Ramona the Pest, Ralph S Mouse, and others). Almost Three continues to eat all foods and play all instruments. Both know how to be Children in Medicine. They expertly cough into their elbows, wash skinned knees, brush every part of every tooth every night, and answer common questions from parents of patients when Dr Mommy's on call (okay, almost). Oh, and I'm not old yet.
And, though our Couples Time tends to be by day on the phone or at home after the kids finally go to sleep (after hours tends to be late in our family), I'm decidedly still in love with my husband who happens to be a Father in Medicine, or more accurately a Father in Research. And I've participated in (read, laughed, commented, collaborated, posted, cringed) as a first time blogger with a group of fabulous women with varied voices about what makes us who we are, Mothers in Medicine."
T, indeed, is a comforting voice here and we've all felt her reassuring and supportive comments. She makes you feel understood, not judged, and a part of a true collaborative. Thank you, T, for all of your contributions this past year, and hopefully, many more to come. (Also, you should take advantage of Recently Local Grandma VERY SOON.)
T is one of the original contributors to MiM and over the year, has contributed honest, witty, real posts about being a pediatrician mother in a 2 physician/researcher family. T writes:
"As I think back to my first MIM post one year ago, get out much, let me report on all the progress my husband and I have made. END of post.
Alas, I'm inclined to say that we've made no progress on the get out much as a twosome front. We still spend our evenings and weekends As A Family. Haven't identified a babysitter. Haven't seen a movie. One or both of us has put them to bed every night of their lives. We did go out on a "date" recently, but it was to an auction/fundraiser at our kids' preschool and they were there in an adjacent room!
Nonetheless, there's been progress of other sorts, indeed. Just Five is learning to swim and to read (now enjoying chapter books read together like Franny K Stein, Nancy Drew, Ramona the Pest, Ralph S Mouse, and others). Almost Three continues to eat all foods and play all instruments. Both know how to be Children in Medicine. They expertly cough into their elbows, wash skinned knees, brush every part of every tooth every night, and answer common questions from parents of patients when Dr Mommy's on call (okay, almost). Oh, and I'm not old yet.
And, though our Couples Time tends to be by day on the phone or at home after the kids finally go to sleep (after hours tends to be late in our family), I'm decidedly still in love with my husband who happens to be a Father in Medicine, or more accurately a Father in Research. And I've participated in (read, laughed, commented, collaborated, posted, cringed) as a first time blogger with a group of fabulous women with varied voices about what makes us who we are, Mothers in Medicine."
T, indeed, is a comforting voice here and we've all felt her reassuring and supportive comments. She makes you feel understood, not judged, and a part of a true collaborative. Thank you, T, for all of your contributions this past year, and hopefully, many more to come. (Also, you should take advantage of Recently Local Grandma VERY SOON.)
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Confessions of A Recovering Mother: Warning May Contain Political Content
At this point, with my children living between 300 and 6000 miles away, I find myself recapturing concerns that were submerged in the day to day tasks of mothering. I have always been concerned about politics, and as my children are becoming more independent, I process most political concerns through the lens of "what will this change mean for them?" I am especially concerned about health insurance reform, now that two of the three are no longer eligible for coverage under our family policy.
I am uncomfortably aware that my interests as physician, mother and citizen are diverging. As a physician, I want beneficiaries to be able to see me at reasonable rates with minimum hassle for both of us. Out of network coverage, health savings accounts, and any other mechanism that subverts managed care seems the most desirable when I am sitting behind my office desk.
As a mother, on the other hand, I am devastated that the last remaining not- for- profit HMO in my state is being dropped by the employer who provides our insurance. Growing up, my asthmatic daughter never had an attack before 6:30 in the evening. Only by the grace of Kaiser did she avoid emergency rooms and hospital stays. The idea that we (and she) no longer have an evening urgent care clinic to go to gives me shivers. She has had several ER visits since moving away and has no regular doctor. No one but me now reminds her to have check ups and refill her prescriptions, as the HMO used to do.
Then there is citizen me, who believes that national, single payor health insurance is the only way to correct the disparities that deny care to so many—including my middle daughter who is likely to be uninsured when she returns from abroad and has not yet found a job. As a doctor, I am wary of having the same type of people who man the kiosks at the DMV involved in managing health insurance, but as a mother I would welcome it, if it meant this child would not be uninsured, however briefly that is likely to be.
Like everyone else on this blog, I wish that politics did not divide and distress us. But some day in the not too distant future, I expect to have to vote on what it is I really want to see in health care reform. To the extent that my identity extends beyond myself to my children and my community, I frankly have no idea what it will mean to have the courage of my convictions. It would certainly help if I actually knew what those convictions were.
I am uncomfortably aware that my interests as physician, mother and citizen are diverging. As a physician, I want beneficiaries to be able to see me at reasonable rates with minimum hassle for both of us. Out of network coverage, health savings accounts, and any other mechanism that subverts managed care seems the most desirable when I am sitting behind my office desk.
As a mother, on the other hand, I am devastated that the last remaining not- for- profit HMO in my state is being dropped by the employer who provides our insurance. Growing up, my asthmatic daughter never had an attack before 6:30 in the evening. Only by the grace of Kaiser did she avoid emergency rooms and hospital stays. The idea that we (and she) no longer have an evening urgent care clinic to go to gives me shivers. She has had several ER visits since moving away and has no regular doctor. No one but me now reminds her to have check ups and refill her prescriptions, as the HMO used to do.
Then there is citizen me, who believes that national, single payor health insurance is the only way to correct the disparities that deny care to so many—including my middle daughter who is likely to be uninsured when she returns from abroad and has not yet found a job. As a doctor, I am wary of having the same type of people who man the kiosks at the DMV involved in managing health insurance, but as a mother I would welcome it, if it meant this child would not be uninsured, however briefly that is likely to be.
Like everyone else on this blog, I wish that politics did not divide and distress us. But some day in the not too distant future, I expect to have to vote on what it is I really want to see in health care reform. To the extent that my identity extends beyond myself to my children and my community, I frankly have no idea what it will mean to have the courage of my convictions. It would certainly help if I actually knew what those convictions were.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Baby names
Warning! Your name or the name of someone you love may be disparaged in this post. Read at your own risk.
It boiled down to two possible names for my daughter: Claudia or Ariana.
Pete wasn't keen on Claudia. "Would you name your son Claude?" he asked.
"No!"
"Then why would you name your daughter Claudia?" he asked practically.
Because I love the name. It's beautiful, it's solid, it's got years behind it, it's not overused. And yet, something didn't quite sit right about it. Finally, when I looked up the meaning, it all came crashing together: Claudia means lame. Of course - from the Latin claudus, from the same root as claudication. I was mortified that this hadn't been immediately obvious to me.
As a physician I'm more finely attuned to the medical implications of names than most, and I don't expect others to associate Claudia with vascular disease. But the name had been spoiled for me. Ariana it was.
Having narrowly averted my own baby naming fiasco, I am sympathetic to parents who inadvertently grant their newborns medically inadvisable baby names. By which I mean, I may inwardly gasp but I keep my mouth shut.
I met a little girl recently named Nevis. Maybe to her parents the name conjures up the beauty of a Caribbean island, but to me, well, she was a living, breathing mole.
Then I came across a variant spelling of Kyle, a name which until then I had considered benign. Chyle is a milky fluid consisting of lymph and emulsified fats, formed in the small intestine during digestion - not a preschooler.
Tanner reminds me of the stages of puberty, Addison warrants an endocrine referral, Lance is asking to be incised and drained, and Brady needs an ECG.
I can medically bastardize most names, but that doesn't mean the general public can. So I don't recommend that parents fret over the medical implications of their name choice. Unless they're planning for a medical career for their child.
Because Melena isn't going to get past round one of the medical school selections process.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
How I met your nanny
Most working moms stress about what they're going to do with their babies when they first go back to work after maternity leave. I was no exception. I had just made this beautiful, perfect baby and now I was horrified at the idea that I was going to leave her for even one second. But of course, I couldn't quit and let all those 30 hour calls be for nothing.
Initially, we were thinking about day care. A well established day care seemed somehow less frightening than letting a stranger into our house. However, most day cares in our very expensive area had a two year waiting list.... so basically, you had to get on the waiting list before you even were pregnant. And the prices were scary. The alternative was a "family home", where a registered person took a handful of babies in their home. They tended to charge less, have more openings, and fewer children.
I brought Melly to visit a family home in our area. I liked it immediately. It was very small: only two women and six children. But I still can picture the image of my helpless little 2 month old girl screaming on the floor of that day care. She was so young and I wanted her to have more individual attention. I couldn't leave her here. Not yet.
So I decided not to cheap out and I hired an agency to find us a nanny. I figured this way we'd get the absolute best quality nannies. The agency would check out the nannies, verify their credentials, and find us the nanny of our dreams. In exchange, we'd pay them $250 plus 10% of the nanny's salary for the first year.... pricey but worth it to get our "dream nanny". One agency guaranteed to find me someone in the four weeks before I went to work, so I hired them on the spot.
If it didn't compromise my identity, I would expose this horrible agency and how they turned out to be a lying bunch of scumbags. It took them over a week to send us one single candidate and she was the opposite of what we told them we wanted... for starters, she wasn't even able to work the hours we needed. I later heard an awful story about this particular agency: they instructed a nanny candidate to accept a job that she didn't want, then told her to cancel at the last minute (leaving the mother stranded), in order not to lose the client. We also read some news stories about nanny agencies who didn't check out their candidates as closely as they promised, such as one that sent over a nanny who was wanted for MURDER in another country. Scary. We lost our $250 deposit on this agency but at least we didn't end up hiring The Babysitter Bandit.
Meanwhile, my maternity leave was dwindling down and I was getting desperate...
With precious little time left, desperate times called for desperate measures: I advertised on Craig's list. I know you probably think Craig's list is just a way for murderous med students to meet their victims, but as it turns out, you can also get a nanny on Craig's list.
Several potential nannies didn't show up to their interviews and one even showed up on the wrong day (not a good sign). One was an older, very experienced and no-nonsense Mary Poppins type that my husband immediately liked, but I was wary, mostly because she wore too much perfume. Then I met Gloria. She showed up on time (score!) and the second I laid eyes on her, I immediately knew she was our new nanny. I just had a FEELING about her--this was the woman I had been picturing when I first started the nanny search. She seemed so loving, asked to hold Melly, and wasn't demanding like the more experienced nanny.
Unfortunately, my husband was stuck on Mary Poppins, so I had to convince him to give Gloria a chance. She also didn't have any actual nanny experience, but hey, the woman had three kids. We did a background check and called her (non-nanny) references, then did a practice day with her, in which she totally won us both over.
Two years later, I think Gloria was the best thing that ever happened to us. She was an amazing nanny, who took care of Melly like she was her own. I never had to worry about my daughter's safety when I was at work. One of the reasons we have been reluctant to move was that we didn't want to lose Gloria!
In the last year, we have mostly transitioned Melly to that family home we rejected when she was two months old. She's older now and we want her to have more social interaction with her "baby fwends" as she calls them. But I will always be grateful to Gloria for helping to raise Melly during that precious first year.
And that, kids, is the story of how I met your nanny.
(P.S. Happy mothers day!)
Initially, we were thinking about day care. A well established day care seemed somehow less frightening than letting a stranger into our house. However, most day cares in our very expensive area had a two year waiting list.... so basically, you had to get on the waiting list before you even were pregnant. And the prices were scary. The alternative was a "family home", where a registered person took a handful of babies in their home. They tended to charge less, have more openings, and fewer children.
I brought Melly to visit a family home in our area. I liked it immediately. It was very small: only two women and six children. But I still can picture the image of my helpless little 2 month old girl screaming on the floor of that day care. She was so young and I wanted her to have more individual attention. I couldn't leave her here. Not yet.
So I decided not to cheap out and I hired an agency to find us a nanny. I figured this way we'd get the absolute best quality nannies. The agency would check out the nannies, verify their credentials, and find us the nanny of our dreams. In exchange, we'd pay them $250 plus 10% of the nanny's salary for the first year.... pricey but worth it to get our "dream nanny". One agency guaranteed to find me someone in the four weeks before I went to work, so I hired them on the spot.
If it didn't compromise my identity, I would expose this horrible agency and how they turned out to be a lying bunch of scumbags. It took them over a week to send us one single candidate and she was the opposite of what we told them we wanted... for starters, she wasn't even able to work the hours we needed. I later heard an awful story about this particular agency: they instructed a nanny candidate to accept a job that she didn't want, then told her to cancel at the last minute (leaving the mother stranded), in order not to lose the client. We also read some news stories about nanny agencies who didn't check out their candidates as closely as they promised, such as one that sent over a nanny who was wanted for MURDER in another country. Scary. We lost our $250 deposit on this agency but at least we didn't end up hiring The Babysitter Bandit.
Meanwhile, my maternity leave was dwindling down and I was getting desperate...
With precious little time left, desperate times called for desperate measures: I advertised on Craig's list. I know you probably think Craig's list is just a way for murderous med students to meet their victims, but as it turns out, you can also get a nanny on Craig's list.
Several potential nannies didn't show up to their interviews and one even showed up on the wrong day (not a good sign). One was an older, very experienced and no-nonsense Mary Poppins type that my husband immediately liked, but I was wary, mostly because she wore too much perfume. Then I met Gloria. She showed up on time (score!) and the second I laid eyes on her, I immediately knew she was our new nanny. I just had a FEELING about her--this was the woman I had been picturing when I first started the nanny search. She seemed so loving, asked to hold Melly, and wasn't demanding like the more experienced nanny.
Unfortunately, my husband was stuck on Mary Poppins, so I had to convince him to give Gloria a chance. She also didn't have any actual nanny experience, but hey, the woman had three kids. We did a background check and called her (non-nanny) references, then did a practice day with her, in which she totally won us both over.
Two years later, I think Gloria was the best thing that ever happened to us. She was an amazing nanny, who took care of Melly like she was her own. I never had to worry about my daughter's safety when I was at work. One of the reasons we have been reluctant to move was that we didn't want to lose Gloria!
In the last year, we have mostly transitioned Melly to that family home we rejected when she was two months old. She's older now and we want her to have more social interaction with her "baby fwends" as she calls them. But I will always be grateful to Gloria for helping to raise Melly during that precious first year.
And that, kids, is the story of how I met your nanny.
(P.S. Happy mothers day!)
Saturday, May 9, 2009
MiM celebrates one year: Anesthesioboist
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.
Anesthesioboist joined Mothers in Medicine last fall. Since then, we've been graced with her phenomenal writing - a true aesthetic purist (hope I'm not putting too much pressure on her with that).
She writes:
T., thank you for making us routinely swoon from the beauty of your words and insight.
Anesthesioboist joined Mothers in Medicine last fall. Since then, we've been graced with her phenomenal writing - a true aesthetic purist (hope I'm not putting too much pressure on her with that).
She writes:
I think my two favorites would have to be "Code Indigo" and "Mom's Apple Pie."
T., thank you for making us routinely swoon from the beauty of your words and insight.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Mother's Day
My oldest gifted me my mother's day gift a couple of days early. You can have one, too: http://news.cnnbcvideo.com/index2.html?p=jbj. We have a running joke about Mother of the Year awards and my credentials (or lack thereof) at my house. This was a perfect present from my IT-savvy son. At the beginning of the school year, each child in his middle school took possesion of a Macbook for the year. Technology in the hands of my children is an amazing thing....the websites, the comfort level of navigating the WWW, the animation and movies Will has made this year blow my mind.
Happy Mother's Day to all!
MWAS
Happy Mother's Day to all!
MWAS
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The intersection of science and motherhood
Upon learning that we were approaching our first anniversary at Mothers in Medicine, I sat down to reflect upon what I have learned. I am, relatively speaking, a newbie to blogging and to this site in particular. I think I have only posted 7 or 8 things. Most of the other bloggers have a lot more to show for themselves, and Fizzy blows me out of the water. Anyway, what I discovered is that the parallels between motherhood and doctoring are many. It has been fun to notice them, share them, and ruminate on them. But what about the parallels between motherhood and science? Are there any? To quote a one-time VP candidate, YOU BETCHA. Here are just a few of my favorites.
The following scientific definitions come with a nod to Wikipedia.
Heisenberg uncertainty principle, as originally proposed:
"In quantum physics, the Heisenberg uncertainty principle states that certain pairs of physical properties, like position and momentum, cannot both be known to arbitrary precision. That is, the more precisely one property is known, the less precisely the other can be known. This is not a statement about the limitations of a researcher's ability to measure particular quantities of a system, but rather about the nature of the system itself."
Heisenberg uncertainty principle, with children:
In parenting, the Heisenberg uncertainty principles states that pairs of siblings, like "Munch" and "Iggy", cannot both be known to arbitary precision. That is, if I can actually see my 3 year old daughter and reassure myself that she is not coloring on (as in directly on) our kitchen table, I cannot also be simultaneously upstairs to observe my 5 year old son using my two mostly full leftover tubes of Lansinoh to glue ALL of his Lincoln Logs to his closet door (true story). This is not a statement about my limitations as a mother, but rather about the nature of parenting itself. Well, that's reassuring. I love physics.
The Law of Conservation of Energy, as originally proposed:
"The law of conservation of energy states that the total amount of energy in an isolated system remains constant. A consequence of this law is that energy cannot be created or destroyed.
Another consequence of this law is that perpetual motion machines can only work perpetually if they deliver no energy to their surroundings. If such machines produce more energy than is put into them, they must lose mass and thus eventually disappear over perpetual time, and are therefore impossible."
The Law of Conservation of Energy, with children:
With children, the law of conservation of energy states that the total amount of energy in an isolated system, such as when we do not have grandparents visiting for a long weekend, remains constant. A consequence of this law is that my husband allowing me to sleep in on Saturday morning leaves him doubly trashed and incapable of functioning for the remainder of the day, even though I am peppy and grateful and ready to have a big family day. Another consequence of this law is that perpetual motion machines (aka mothers) can only work perpetually if they deliver no energy to their surroundings, which means that I basically have to quit going to work, going to the gym, going anywhere at all actually, in order to keep my head above water with these kids. Apparently, they haven't gotten to this part in preschool science yet. If mothers produce more energy than is put into them, they will cease to exist. Take heed, children and husbands...and note that Mothers' Day is just around the corner, and they don't call it the "Rejuvenating Spa Day" for nothing. It could save a life.
Second Law of Thermodynamics, as originally proposed:
"The second law of thermodynamics states that the total entropy of any system cannot decrease except insofar as it flows outward across the boundary of the system. By implication, the entropy of the whole universe, assumed to be an isolated system, cannot decrease. In fact the entropy of the universe is always increasing. We know this because we can identify processes that produce entropy from scratch, and the second law tells us that these increases cannot be undone elsewhere."
Second Law of Thermodynamics, with children:
With children, the second law of thermodynamics states that the extreme disorder and chaos of your minivan (substitute favorite location: kids' bedroom, playroom, etc) cannot decrease except insofar as you have a successful yard sale, consignment store transaction, or Salvation Army pickup. Note that if you move the clutter from the playroom to the attic or unfinished room in your basement, the entropy of your system remains constant. By implication, the clutter associated with childrearing in the whole universe cannot decrease and indeed is always increasing. We know this because we can identify processes that produce entropy from scratch (baby showers with swings, jumperoos, infant carseats and bases, activity gyms, pack n plays, and diaper pails before you even have anyone to use them). And the second law tells us that once you have this stuff, you will end up holding on to it for an inordinate number of years even once you are absolutely, positively, (almost) definitely done having kids. And when you do get rid of it once and for all--usually because your childless younger sibling, to whom you have ranted that you are "so done" having kids after a particularly frustrating day, tells you she is pregnant and wants your stuff--the empty space vacated in your home and cars will be promptly filled with Matchbox cars, Polly pockets limbs, Legos, and jigsaw puzzle pieces.
And finally, I was a literature major in college, so I am not aware of the corresponding law in physics for this one, but I know it must be there somewhere (science majors, speak up): Children expand to occupy the number of adults present. This refers to the phenomenon that I am currently living as a temporarily single parent while my husband is deployed for 5 months. It takes me half the day to get a shower on the weekend when I am here alone with them. When the grandparents or aunts and uncles come to visit, it takes all of us half the day to get a shower. Even if there are 4 adults present, everyone is occupied. Someone is changing a diaper. Someone is helping to build a pizza shooting robot out of Legos. Someone is cleaning up the food thrown all over the kitchen floor by the 16 month old during lunch. Someone is attempting to catch the muddy child and wrestle her into the tub before she leaps onto the yellow sofa. If this has never been reported as a phenomenon before and you take a notion to scoop me by submitting it to Popular Science, please consider naming it Tempeh's Law.
So, just in case you have decided against becoming a radiation oncologist and now wonder why physics was required for med school, it was because those med school admission committees knew it was only a matter of time before you would want to pass on your genes. And when you did, with Physics 101 under your belt, you'd be ready. Or at least you couldn't say you hadn't been warned...I mean, consented.
The following scientific definitions come with a nod to Wikipedia.
Heisenberg uncertainty principle, as originally proposed:
"In quantum physics, the Heisenberg uncertainty principle states that certain pairs of physical properties, like position and momentum, cannot both be known to arbitrary precision. That is, the more precisely one property is known, the less precisely the other can be known. This is not a statement about the limitations of a researcher's ability to measure particular quantities of a system, but rather about the nature of the system itself."
Heisenberg uncertainty principle, with children:
In parenting, the Heisenberg uncertainty principles states that pairs of siblings, like "Munch" and "Iggy", cannot both be known to arbitary precision. That is, if I can actually see my 3 year old daughter and reassure myself that she is not coloring on (as in directly on) our kitchen table, I cannot also be simultaneously upstairs to observe my 5 year old son using my two mostly full leftover tubes of Lansinoh to glue ALL of his Lincoln Logs to his closet door (true story). This is not a statement about my limitations as a mother, but rather about the nature of parenting itself. Well, that's reassuring. I love physics.
The Law of Conservation of Energy, as originally proposed:
"The law of conservation of energy states that the total amount of energy in an isolated system remains constant. A consequence of this law is that energy cannot be created or destroyed.
Another consequence of this law is that perpetual motion machines can only work perpetually if they deliver no energy to their surroundings. If such machines produce more energy than is put into them, they must lose mass and thus eventually disappear over perpetual time, and are therefore impossible."
The Law of Conservation of Energy, with children:
With children, the law of conservation of energy states that the total amount of energy in an isolated system, such as when we do not have grandparents visiting for a long weekend, remains constant. A consequence of this law is that my husband allowing me to sleep in on Saturday morning leaves him doubly trashed and incapable of functioning for the remainder of the day, even though I am peppy and grateful and ready to have a big family day. Another consequence of this law is that perpetual motion machines (aka mothers) can only work perpetually if they deliver no energy to their surroundings, which means that I basically have to quit going to work, going to the gym, going anywhere at all actually, in order to keep my head above water with these kids. Apparently, they haven't gotten to this part in preschool science yet. If mothers produce more energy than is put into them, they will cease to exist. Take heed, children and husbands...and note that Mothers' Day is just around the corner, and they don't call it the "Rejuvenating Spa Day" for nothing. It could save a life.
Second Law of Thermodynamics, as originally proposed:
"The second law of thermodynamics states that the total entropy of any system cannot decrease except insofar as it flows outward across the boundary of the system. By implication, the entropy of the whole universe, assumed to be an isolated system, cannot decrease. In fact the entropy of the universe is always increasing. We know this because we can identify processes that produce entropy from scratch, and the second law tells us that these increases cannot be undone elsewhere."
Second Law of Thermodynamics, with children:
With children, the second law of thermodynamics states that the extreme disorder and chaos of your minivan (substitute favorite location: kids' bedroom, playroom, etc) cannot decrease except insofar as you have a successful yard sale, consignment store transaction, or Salvation Army pickup. Note that if you move the clutter from the playroom to the attic or unfinished room in your basement, the entropy of your system remains constant. By implication, the clutter associated with childrearing in the whole universe cannot decrease and indeed is always increasing. We know this because we can identify processes that produce entropy from scratch (baby showers with swings, jumperoos, infant carseats and bases, activity gyms, pack n plays, and diaper pails before you even have anyone to use them). And the second law tells us that once you have this stuff, you will end up holding on to it for an inordinate number of years even once you are absolutely, positively, (almost) definitely done having kids. And when you do get rid of it once and for all--usually because your childless younger sibling, to whom you have ranted that you are "so done" having kids after a particularly frustrating day, tells you she is pregnant and wants your stuff--the empty space vacated in your home and cars will be promptly filled with Matchbox cars, Polly pockets limbs, Legos, and jigsaw puzzle pieces.
And finally, I was a literature major in college, so I am not aware of the corresponding law in physics for this one, but I know it must be there somewhere (science majors, speak up): Children expand to occupy the number of adults present. This refers to the phenomenon that I am currently living as a temporarily single parent while my husband is deployed for 5 months. It takes me half the day to get a shower on the weekend when I am here alone with them. When the grandparents or aunts and uncles come to visit, it takes all of us half the day to get a shower. Even if there are 4 adults present, everyone is occupied. Someone is changing a diaper. Someone is helping to build a pizza shooting robot out of Legos. Someone is cleaning up the food thrown all over the kitchen floor by the 16 month old during lunch. Someone is attempting to catch the muddy child and wrestle her into the tub before she leaps onto the yellow sofa. If this has never been reported as a phenomenon before and you take a notion to scoop me by submitting it to Popular Science, please consider naming it Tempeh's Law.
So, just in case you have decided against becoming a radiation oncologist and now wonder why physics was required for med school, it was because those med school admission committees knew it was only a matter of time before you would want to pass on your genes. And when you did, with Physics 101 under your belt, you'd be ready. Or at least you couldn't say you hadn't been warned...I mean, consented.
MiM celebrates one year: MWAS
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.
MWAS has been writing here from the beginning, sharing her stories of being a pediatrician in a private practice and being a mother of two tween boys. She writes:
Thank you, MWAS, for a wonderful year, and hopefully, more to come.
MWAS has been writing here from the beginning, sharing her stories of being a pediatrician in a private practice and being a mother of two tween boys. She writes:
MWAS also created the signature Seriously, I wanna know... posts where she throws out a pressing question on her mind to all of our readers. The one on keeping last name/changing name/hyphenating and the one on fiction recommendations got almost 30 comments each.When I went back and scanned my posts - the standouts were different than I expected - my writing has definitely changed over the year - which I love. I have a hard time just picking one favorite - Favorite things, 5 ways I know I'm not my mother at Christmas, & Bees and Birds are my selections.
Thank you, MWAS, for a wonderful year, and hopefully, more to come.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Membership
When I arrived at my office this morning, I had a walk-in patient waiting for me. In the winter months, it’s not unusual for a parent to try to “jump the line” and want to be seen first thing, and I try my best to accommodate parent and patient. I had promised to do a medicine re-check for my nurse’s child after I made morning hospital rounds today so that we could get her child to school, and my nurse back to work. My partner saw the walk-in who had stalked Lori, my scheduler, at the back door forty-five minutes prior to my arrival, while I saw my scheduled re-check.
Sometimes parents believe that medicine is a club – one that you can join if you have the right political affiliations or money or a very important job. Membership in this club gets them exclusive bonuses –kind of like frequent flyer miles or box tops – bonuses that include a physician’s home phone number or pager and the right to call them any time of day or night. Occasionally a parent will ask for my direct number- sometimes with a smile or a giggle as they promise not to call me at 2 AM for a diaper rash or spit-up. Acceptance into this club also allows members to talk about their child’s sex education in Starbucks, or ask for antibiotics (just in case) whenever they are leaving the country for Turks and Caicos for the next two weeks.
Being truthful with myself, I accept that I am part of a club of sorts. When my triage service calls about a family friend who bit his tongue and needed advice about whether to go to the ER or not, I call the family because they‘re friends, and they would show the same concern for my children. I’ve also referred my brother-in-law with appendicitis to Dr. Ileum because he’s a friend and I know he’ll take good care of my relative. I’ve also met a fellow partner and her child in the middle of the night when she suspected her daughter had new onset Type 1 diabetes. (She was right!) My family and close friends (I can count the number of families on one hand) are default members, and they know there are rules about membership.
The notion of an exclusive membership or concierge medicine doesn’t sit well with me. As humanly possible, I try to treat my patients as well and equally as I would treat my own family or friends regardless of socioeconomic status. There are boundaries, though, and limit pushers that make me put my foot down. I won’t write prescriptions on the fly for administrator or staff’s children anymore when I’m trying to make hospital rounds. It’s not fair to my patients to get distracted like that. I cannot prevent a patient with lice showing up on Sunday morning on my front porch, but I won’t let them expose my kids. My phone has caller ID, and we screen the calls heavily, so when I’m not on call, I’m focused on my family, and my personal time. It’s all part of a balancing act that I’ve had to learn bit by bit.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Ship 'em off!
When I made a post last week about fellowship, I was surprised by one commenter who suggested the idea of living apart for a year while I did a fellowship. Either my daughter could come out with me and I could manage as a single parent (eep!) or she could stay with my husband and I could just visit on odd holidays.
Now I've lived apart from my husband for periods of time and it was not fun, but it was doable. But living apart from my child is a totally different ballgame.
I know the commenter meant no offense in this statement, and the truth is, women do this. I know of a few female residents who have sent their babies to live in their home country with the grandparents while they furthered their careers. I don't judge these women but it's not something I would ever remotely consider.
In my daughter's entire life, I have only been away from her for one single night. (Not easy to manage as a resident!) My husband has only been away from her for a handful of nights. For either of us, it is painful to even contemplate a year spent apart. I can do a fellowship in ten years from now if I want, but AGE TWO is only going to happen once. I'd never forgive myself if I missed out on it.... or if I put my husband in a position where he was forced to either give up his job or miss out on it.
For me, feminism does not necessarily equate with always getting my way in terms of career.
Now I've lived apart from my husband for periods of time and it was not fun, but it was doable. But living apart from my child is a totally different ballgame.
I know the commenter meant no offense in this statement, and the truth is, women do this. I know of a few female residents who have sent their babies to live in their home country with the grandparents while they furthered their careers. I don't judge these women but it's not something I would ever remotely consider.
In my daughter's entire life, I have only been away from her for one single night. (Not easy to manage as a resident!) My husband has only been away from her for a handful of nights. For either of us, it is painful to even contemplate a year spent apart. I can do a fellowship in ten years from now if I want, but AGE TWO is only going to happen once. I'd never forgive myself if I missed out on it.... or if I put my husband in a position where he was forced to either give up his job or miss out on it.
For me, feminism does not necessarily equate with always getting my way in terms of career.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Mother of the patient, part II
Since our last visit to the ER less than a month ago, we have been to the doctor's for my son several times. First it was the acute visit follow-up, then his routine well-child visit along with associated vaccines, and then this week, another acute visit for allergies.
I had been noticing him rubbing his eyes a lot, often with the appearance of allergic shiners, rubbing his nose, and the occasional rapid-fire sneeze sequence. My poor boy, one day, was itching his eye so much that it became swollen and red and I feared he would gouge out a layer of his cornea with his thumb. He couldn't sleep due to the itching, crying while standing at the crib rail, itching his eye. Even after I came in and rocked him to sleep, holding him, he continued to rub his eyes in between soft snores.
Of course it was the weekend. Everything only happens during the weekend.
So early this week, I took him in for a visit at the Pediatric Clinic.
We saw a resident. This time, I did not say anything about being a physician, but it must have been in the chart because he knew. I got the sense that he did not have much experience with toddlers with allergies. I sat patiently while he read Up to Date and consulted his Harriet Lane. He presented the options of just treating symptomatically with Zyrtec, skin testing via an Allergy consult, and performing a RAST screen on a blood sample. I was leaning towards some kind of testing; it seemed more logical to me to identify potential triggers and to try to eliminate them as much as possible rather than blindly treating with medications indefinitely.
But, I also wanted to know what his attending's experience was with this and trusted his/her guidance on this. Plus, I wasn't too familiar with the different sensitivities, specificities of the various tests. He went to go discuss our case.
I have to say I was a bit disappointed that the attending never came in to introduce herself or talk to us. Instead the resident just came back and said she thought we should just treat with zyrtec and that skin testing, in the absence of planned immunotherapy, was pointless. She thought allergy testing was way too aggressive, at least that's what I heard second-hand.
I left feeling kind of dissatisfied with the whole experience. With not seeing an actual attending. With a management course I wasn't 100% on board with.
But, after talking it over with my husband and doctor friends, I decided to push for the allergy testing, at least the RAST as a primary screen. I didn't want to commit my son to medication long-term without knowing the causes.
I called and left a message for the resident who did not call me back until I left a second message. (Was I just a pain in the butt physician parent that had to be avoided?) I think I nicely stated my concerns about not knowing my son's triggers and he ordered the RAST right then.
Today, I took my son to get his blood drawn. So, he's never had blood drawn outside of routine newborn tests and it's been a long while since my peds rotation...I failed to remember how traumatic getting blood from a 15 month old can be.
There were 2 adults holding him down while another poked him with a butterfly needle in his right antecubital. Oh, how he cried and struggled and looked at me as if I betrayed him. I kept kissing his forehead and wiping the beads of sweat on the bridge of his nose and his face. They could only get a few cc's from the right and had to switch to the left. At one point, I was ready to call the whole thing off. No more. But I also didn't want to have to do this again.
I suddenly appreciated how this might be the aggressive approach.
Just a few hours later, I was holding him while at the store. He kept raising his shirt and itching. Detergent? I set him down and lifted up his shirt. Red patches, scattered, maybe where he was itching. Yes, definitely a rash. I showed my husband. It was looking more urticarial by the second, yes, definitely the beginning of hives. He looked otherwise well. No trouble breathing. Not feeling ill but itching.
My heart started to race. I had benadryl in the diaper bag, just in case (ever since Tempeh's post actually). Our plans for the afternoon took an immediate detour back home, keeping a close eye on him during the 15 minute car ride for any clinical changes.
Husband: He's itching his leg.
Me: His right leg?
Husband: Yes.
Me: He always itches his right leg. That's where his worst eczema patch is.
At home, I stripped him down to his diaper. I gasped.
Huge urticarial welts covered his back. HUGE. Just the sight of them on his soft baby skin made me cringe. What did he eat? We grabbed packages to read the ingredients. Got on the internet and did rapid searching. I thought back to earlier this week when our nanny gave him some green beans in a peanut sauce that made me hyperventilate when I discovered it, despite our instructions not to give him nuts or shellfish.
The hives melted away within 15 minutes of taking the benadryl. I, however, am on perma-edge. I still don't know what he ate that did it - nothing new. Cheese and Ritz crackers right before.
Suddenly, I'm glad we got the blood test. Maybe it was the right decision after all.
I had been noticing him rubbing his eyes a lot, often with the appearance of allergic shiners, rubbing his nose, and the occasional rapid-fire sneeze sequence. My poor boy, one day, was itching his eye so much that it became swollen and red and I feared he would gouge out a layer of his cornea with his thumb. He couldn't sleep due to the itching, crying while standing at the crib rail, itching his eye. Even after I came in and rocked him to sleep, holding him, he continued to rub his eyes in between soft snores.
Of course it was the weekend. Everything only happens during the weekend.
So early this week, I took him in for a visit at the Pediatric Clinic.
We saw a resident. This time, I did not say anything about being a physician, but it must have been in the chart because he knew. I got the sense that he did not have much experience with toddlers with allergies. I sat patiently while he read Up to Date and consulted his Harriet Lane. He presented the options of just treating symptomatically with Zyrtec, skin testing via an Allergy consult, and performing a RAST screen on a blood sample. I was leaning towards some kind of testing; it seemed more logical to me to identify potential triggers and to try to eliminate them as much as possible rather than blindly treating with medications indefinitely.
But, I also wanted to know what his attending's experience was with this and trusted his/her guidance on this. Plus, I wasn't too familiar with the different sensitivities, specificities of the various tests. He went to go discuss our case.
I have to say I was a bit disappointed that the attending never came in to introduce herself or talk to us. Instead the resident just came back and said she thought we should just treat with zyrtec and that skin testing, in the absence of planned immunotherapy, was pointless. She thought allergy testing was way too aggressive, at least that's what I heard second-hand.
I left feeling kind of dissatisfied with the whole experience. With not seeing an actual attending. With a management course I wasn't 100% on board with.
But, after talking it over with my husband and doctor friends, I decided to push for the allergy testing, at least the RAST as a primary screen. I didn't want to commit my son to medication long-term without knowing the causes.
I called and left a message for the resident who did not call me back until I left a second message. (Was I just a pain in the butt physician parent that had to be avoided?) I think I nicely stated my concerns about not knowing my son's triggers and he ordered the RAST right then.
Today, I took my son to get his blood drawn. So, he's never had blood drawn outside of routine newborn tests and it's been a long while since my peds rotation...I failed to remember how traumatic getting blood from a 15 month old can be.
There were 2 adults holding him down while another poked him with a butterfly needle in his right antecubital. Oh, how he cried and struggled and looked at me as if I betrayed him. I kept kissing his forehead and wiping the beads of sweat on the bridge of his nose and his face. They could only get a few cc's from the right and had to switch to the left. At one point, I was ready to call the whole thing off. No more. But I also didn't want to have to do this again.
I suddenly appreciated how this might be the aggressive approach.
Just a few hours later, I was holding him while at the store. He kept raising his shirt and itching. Detergent? I set him down and lifted up his shirt. Red patches, scattered, maybe where he was itching. Yes, definitely a rash. I showed my husband. It was looking more urticarial by the second, yes, definitely the beginning of hives. He looked otherwise well. No trouble breathing. Not feeling ill but itching.
My heart started to race. I had benadryl in the diaper bag, just in case (ever since Tempeh's post actually). Our plans for the afternoon took an immediate detour back home, keeping a close eye on him during the 15 minute car ride for any clinical changes.
Husband: He's itching his leg.
Me: His right leg?
Husband: Yes.
Me: He always itches his right leg. That's where his worst eczema patch is.
At home, I stripped him down to his diaper. I gasped.
Huge urticarial welts covered his back. HUGE. Just the sight of them on his soft baby skin made me cringe. What did he eat? We grabbed packages to read the ingredients. Got on the internet and did rapid searching. I thought back to earlier this week when our nanny gave him some green beans in a peanut sauce that made me hyperventilate when I discovered it, despite our instructions not to give him nuts or shellfish.
The hives melted away within 15 minutes of taking the benadryl. I, however, am on perma-edge. I still don't know what he ate that did it - nothing new. Cheese and Ritz crackers right before.
Suddenly, I'm glad we got the blood test. Maybe it was the right decision after all.
Friday, April 24, 2009
To Get to the Other Side
There are times in life when everything seems to fall right in to place, and then, there are times like now. I can see the shimmering oasis of a new life, just on the horizon. A better call schedule, closer to family and friends, a chance to work in a collegial (not competitive) environment, more time with my precious kids and husband, and a chance to grow as a physician. Between the oasis and where I stand, however, is a treacherous, rock-filled, rapid river, swirling and threatening my ability to ever reach the opposite shore.
Obstacle #1 - Our house is on the market, and we have shown it at least a dozen times. Yet, despite positive overall feedback, not a single offer. I don't mean to boast, but our house is a beautiful house. I love it. I was ready to buy it the second I walked through the front door, and I can't believe that everyone else that sees it doesn't feel the same way. We never thought we would have to sell this house. Maybe we should have thought about selling it before we bought it. If we don't sell before we move, we'll have a hefty house payment, along with any rent payment we need to pay in Newville. This alone will be a financial strain.
Obstacle #2 - Mr. Whoo has yet to find a job, nor procure an interview in Newville. Granted, he has only starting looking in earnest recently. However, he is looking for work in the finance world, which isn't the best place to be seeking employment given the current state of our economy. We have been fortunate that he was able to quit his job last fall when our family really needed it, but now we worry that the employment gap may cause an impetus with new employers. Plus, without an additional income after the move, there will be more financial strain on our family. (See Obstacle #1)
Obstacle #3 - My current place of employment is not letting me go without a fight. There have been veiled and outright threats of lawsuits and damages and liabilities for me leaving earlier than my contract had mandated. There is also the matter of giving back a portion of student loans paid by the hospital. The fact that we would have to pay back was not unexpected, however, the amount that we calculated is about half of what the hospital estimates. We are procuring the services of a contract negotiator and a lawyer, who seem to believe we have a case for inducement, but I'm having angina just thinking of it. Not to mention the fact that, if the hospital's calculations are correct, they want us to pay up in less than 2 months. Add more financial liability to the swirly, cold, and fast water.
Obstacle #4 - Emotionally, I am wrung out. I am completely exhausted, and barely hanging on by my fingernails to make it to the date I indicated I was leaving. Being on call, continuously, with only 4 days off per month (plus vacation time), has left me completely burnt out. I find it hard to drag myself to work and muster compassion for my patients. They deserve better than the doctor I am right now. My health, mental and physical, is suffering. The remainder of my contract is a mere six months, and by finishing it out, I can alleviate much of the financial burden of the above obstacles...for the price of my very sanity. I want to cry just thinking of it.
So, I sit here on the bank, pining for the oasis, and unsure how to navigate the obstacles that lie before me. Oddly, I am reminded of the "old school" computer game, "The Oregon Trail." When faced with a river, you can try to ford the river, float the river, or hire someone else to help you across. Right now, I am pining desperately for someone to throw me a life line, or at the very least, a strategy for surviving these treacherous waters. The best advice I can relate to our readers is to know what you are getting in to before you sign a contract. There is no such thing as a perfect job, and if it seems too good to be true, it, in all likelihood, *is* too good to be true. Caveat emptor...and pass the caulk.
*cross posted at Ob/Gyn Kenobi
Obstacle #1 - Our house is on the market, and we have shown it at least a dozen times. Yet, despite positive overall feedback, not a single offer. I don't mean to boast, but our house is a beautiful house. I love it. I was ready to buy it the second I walked through the front door, and I can't believe that everyone else that sees it doesn't feel the same way. We never thought we would have to sell this house. Maybe we should have thought about selling it before we bought it. If we don't sell before we move, we'll have a hefty house payment, along with any rent payment we need to pay in Newville. This alone will be a financial strain.
Obstacle #2 - Mr. Whoo has yet to find a job, nor procure an interview in Newville. Granted, he has only starting looking in earnest recently. However, he is looking for work in the finance world, which isn't the best place to be seeking employment given the current state of our economy. We have been fortunate that he was able to quit his job last fall when our family really needed it, but now we worry that the employment gap may cause an impetus with new employers. Plus, without an additional income after the move, there will be more financial strain on our family. (See Obstacle #1)
Obstacle #3 - My current place of employment is not letting me go without a fight. There have been veiled and outright threats of lawsuits and damages and liabilities for me leaving earlier than my contract had mandated. There is also the matter of giving back a portion of student loans paid by the hospital. The fact that we would have to pay back was not unexpected, however, the amount that we calculated is about half of what the hospital estimates. We are procuring the services of a contract negotiator and a lawyer, who seem to believe we have a case for inducement, but I'm having angina just thinking of it. Not to mention the fact that, if the hospital's calculations are correct, they want us to pay up in less than 2 months. Add more financial liability to the swirly, cold, and fast water.
Obstacle #4 - Emotionally, I am wrung out. I am completely exhausted, and barely hanging on by my fingernails to make it to the date I indicated I was leaving. Being on call, continuously, with only 4 days off per month (plus vacation time), has left me completely burnt out. I find it hard to drag myself to work and muster compassion for my patients. They deserve better than the doctor I am right now. My health, mental and physical, is suffering. The remainder of my contract is a mere six months, and by finishing it out, I can alleviate much of the financial burden of the above obstacles...for the price of my very sanity. I want to cry just thinking of it.
So, I sit here on the bank, pining for the oasis, and unsure how to navigate the obstacles that lie before me. Oddly, I am reminded of the "old school" computer game, "The Oregon Trail." When faced with a river, you can try to ford the river, float the river, or hire someone else to help you across. Right now, I am pining desperately for someone to throw me a life line, or at the very least, a strategy for surviving these treacherous waters. The best advice I can relate to our readers is to know what you are getting in to before you sign a contract. There is no such thing as a perfect job, and if it seems too good to be true, it, in all likelihood, *is* too good to be true. Caveat emptor...and pass the caulk.
*cross posted at Ob/Gyn Kenobi
Thursday, April 23, 2009
There's a reason they call them "fellows"....
This is going to be a bit of a rant, so apologies in advance...
I've made no secret of the fact that I'm not terribly enamored with the field of medicine or being a doctor, but I've managed to actually find a specialty that I love. And within that specialty, there's a subspecialty that I'm very interested in. I've been nerdishly dreaming about a one-year fellowship for a while now, but it's beginning to look like that dream isn't going to be able to come true for me.
I'm not going to get into the details of my own situation, because "it's complicated" (like my younger brother's Facebook relationship status). But I am going to make a really broad generalization and say that it's really rough for a woman with a child to do a fellowship. Granted, some women do it. I know because I see female fellows with pictures of babies on the back of their IDs so I'm guessing they're mothers (unless the photo came with the ID badge). But it's rough.
Here's why:
Fellowships tend to be competitive. So unless you're doing a fellowship nobody wants, like, in rectal exams, you have to be geographically flexible. (There's no such fellowship, by the way. Didn't mean to get anyone's hopes up.)
Being geographically flexible means possibly uprooting yourself to do the fellowship. It's not quite as big a deal to camp out in Whereverland for a year if you're a single person, but it feels a lot more selfish to force your spouse and child to move with you. To give up your home, your daycare/nanny, your spouse's job, etc.
For a man with a family, it can be just as hard, but I'm going to go out on a sexist limb and say that it's harder for a woman for a couple of reasons:
1) There are a lot of men who are totally cool with being stay at home dads and I salute them. But most men aren't. In this economy, it's not easy to find a job and there's a chance your spouse could be unemployed indefinitely if he gives up his job. For a lot of men, this would be a huge blow for their self esteem, possibly one that's unacceptable and would result in marital discord. For women, less so, in general.*
2) I think a lot of women tend to feel that their career takes a back seat to their husband's career and their family's needs. For me, the thought of uprooting my family for my own selfish career aspirations just feels really wrong. I can't do it.
So that's that. My nerdy dream, up in flames. Sigh.
*I am making a bunch of broad generalizations. Please don't throw something at me if you are an exception.
I've made no secret of the fact that I'm not terribly enamored with the field of medicine or being a doctor, but I've managed to actually find a specialty that I love. And within that specialty, there's a subspecialty that I'm very interested in. I've been nerdishly dreaming about a one-year fellowship for a while now, but it's beginning to look like that dream isn't going to be able to come true for me.
I'm not going to get into the details of my own situation, because "it's complicated" (like my younger brother's Facebook relationship status). But I am going to make a really broad generalization and say that it's really rough for a woman with a child to do a fellowship. Granted, some women do it. I know because I see female fellows with pictures of babies on the back of their IDs so I'm guessing they're mothers (unless the photo came with the ID badge). But it's rough.
Here's why:
Fellowships tend to be competitive. So unless you're doing a fellowship nobody wants, like, in rectal exams, you have to be geographically flexible. (There's no such fellowship, by the way. Didn't mean to get anyone's hopes up.)
Being geographically flexible means possibly uprooting yourself to do the fellowship. It's not quite as big a deal to camp out in Whereverland for a year if you're a single person, but it feels a lot more selfish to force your spouse and child to move with you. To give up your home, your daycare/nanny, your spouse's job, etc.
For a man with a family, it can be just as hard, but I'm going to go out on a sexist limb and say that it's harder for a woman for a couple of reasons:
1) There are a lot of men who are totally cool with being stay at home dads and I salute them. But most men aren't. In this economy, it's not easy to find a job and there's a chance your spouse could be unemployed indefinitely if he gives up his job. For a lot of men, this would be a huge blow for their self esteem, possibly one that's unacceptable and would result in marital discord. For women, less so, in general.*
2) I think a lot of women tend to feel that their career takes a back seat to their husband's career and their family's needs. For me, the thought of uprooting my family for my own selfish career aspirations just feels really wrong. I can't do it.
So that's that. My nerdy dream, up in flames. Sigh.
*I am making a bunch of broad generalizations. Please don't throw something at me if you are an exception.
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