Wednesday, April 3, 2019

The Frustration of Being a Doctor's Wife: Where is HE When I Need Him?

The frustration of being a doctor's wife goes without saying.

Before I write on, I want to address each and every woman who is married to a workaholic. It is here where I will remind you I was once married to a workaholic, non-doctor. I get the similarities, but I also KNOW the differences... and there are glaring differences between the two, and for those of you who are married to non-doctors, here is where I, and most likely any other doctor's wife, would love to walk in your shoes...

Quickly, I'll go over the back story:

I had a bad cold.
Cold improving.
Upper toothache, but I figured it could be sinus issue from cold.
I ignored it for a few days.
Toothache worsened.
{Okay, it hurt like like hell. If I was on a deserted island like Tom Hanks in "Castaway", I would've been looking for that ice skating blade, too).
Finally, I call my dentist.
Dentist says you need emergency root canal. Go now!


So here's where it gets ______; choose your word- "frustrating" or "sad". I can 't decide.

My dentist makes me an immediate appointment with a specialist. As I'm driving from my dentist to the specialist, I realize I'm driving to an out-of-town endodontist who I've never seen before for an emergency root canal, and no one knows where I am, or what's going on.

So, I do what any wife would do. I text my husband with this update and sent a photo of the business card with the endodontist's information.

I know my husband is booked and busy all day. I don't expect a return text right away. However, I'm thinking this is a big deal. He'll text me as soon as he sees it. I know he will.

After a 30 minute drive, I arrive at the office, fill out the paperwork, and wait. I meet the new dentist, he completes his testing, and agrees with my dentist. I need an emergency root canal.

I check my phone for his text. Nothing. It's been 50 minutes since I sent him my text.

I am numbed and the dentist is ready to begin. I check my phone. Nothing.

Lots of drilling. An hour of drilling. I check my phone. Nothing.

More drilling. Then some smoke. Nothing.

Two hours in the chair. I check again. Nothing.

I check out of the clinic. Get in the car. Nothing.

I drive myself home in traffic. Nothing.

Finally, at 7:45pm my phone rings.

Me: Hello?
Doc H: Hi, Honey. I just got out of a horrible case. I don't know what going to happen to this patient. She is in real bad shape. She's alive, but I don't know if she will make it. What's going on?
Me: Did you see my text?
Doc H: No, I've been so busy I haven't checked my phone. I finished, spoke with the family, and got in the car to drive home and am calling.

I tell him what I've been through. He felt so bad.

He came home and was visibly upset. This was just that reminder. Something could happen to me or any of our loved ones with hours passing by without him knowing a thing. In this case, five and a half hours. A lot can happen in that time span. He understands and shares in my frustration.

And, yet. I get it. There's always going to be someone is worse condition that I am. They will need him to save their life.

But, every once in a while, I would really like him there to hold my hand, or at the very least, just return my damn text, giving me the peace-of-mind that he knows where I am and what I'm going through during these types of occasions.








Saturday, February 9, 2019

It's All About the People



It's all about the people.

That's what makes or breaks a job, wouldn't you agree?

We are finally settling down in the new job. It didn't start out smoothly, but then again, I can't think of any job that has. There's always that period of adjustment where you are thrown into a new environment, and you go through the dreaded learning curve.

And here's the kicker... I didn't realize DocH's new job would mean a new full-time job for me. Being in private practice is a TON of work! Man, we took so many things for granted at the hospital. I submitted his credentialing packages over six weeks ago and we are still waiting. I know. It takes forever. In the meantime, I have a husband who is dying to get back into the OR.

But, who cares? He is HAPPY. He is busy with a full clinic, and more importantly, colleagues and staff who are happy to be at work. They are happy he is there. They are bending over backwards to make sure he is loving his new digs by reorganizing and reconfiguring the clinic to his liking. It's a great vibe. It's all about the people.

He comes home, and let me tell you, he is a different person. He may be tired, but it's a good tired. He is re-energized. At dinner, he smiles, he laughs at my dorky jokes, he even cracks his own dorky jokes. I can go over business items with him and he is attentive, conversation bounces back and forth like it should. Seeing him like this gives me all sorts of warm and fuzzy feelings. It's sooooooo good!

Before, he thought he had about six years left in him. Now, he can see himself doing this until he is no longer competent. *Insert the sound of tires skidding here.*  I'm not sure how I quite feel about that.


Friday, January 18, 2019

What Happens When Hospital Admins are Unsupportive

Ok, here we go.... this is the post my husband doesn't want me to write.

The past two years have been shit at the hospital. I don't normally like to swear. I like to keep it for special occassions, so family and friends know I'm really upset or dissagreable with something. So, again, I tell you these last two years at the hospital have been shit.

Today, let's tackle the hospital administration. Remember my posts about Doc H's last start-up? The one that was successful and all above board with the previous supportive hospital administration? It was wonderful. Doc H told them what he was doing, they supported it, had their legal team draw up some documents outlining boundaries (to eliminate any conflict of interest), he signed, everyone abided, and all was good in the world. No problems. A precedent was set.

**In case you are new to my blog or need a refresher, in addition to his passion for surgery, Doc H is an innovator. While he innovates, I manage the business end of our start-ups.**

The current hospital administration (well really, the top administrator) is just a whole new type of batshit crazy. It took them almost two years to tell Doc H, "No, sorry. No can do." In the meantime, here we were under the impression all would work out, because it did before, right?

To make matters worse, the admin retaliated. I seriously think they hated Doc H for putting them in the position of having to make a decision. So for the past two years, Doc H ran his department with absolutely no support of the hospital admins. Whatever he asked for, whatever idea he came up with, admin always nixed it. Or worse, they listened to his idea, implemented it, and gave credit to someone else. Such bastards.

But, here is the worst. Admin gave Doc H orders to reel in his partners; cut down expenses; run a much leaner department. Well, of course no one liked the changes Doc H had to implement. Doc H didn't like doing it. So, when his partners complained and pushed back to the admin, admin decided to take it out on DocH.

Yes, the messenger was shot by both sides. On one side, Doc H's physician colleagues were acting like bratty 5 year olds, no longer inviting him to sit with them at their lunch table, and on the other side the admin {GET THIS} is upset that DocH has angered his colleagues by implementing policies which they pushed him to do! So, what did admin do? For TWO YEARS they withheld Doc H's bonuses. Yes. They withheld his bonuses because DocH did what they asked him to do.

Oh, no! Wait, I lied. One year they gave him .05% of his normal bonus.

We were beyond insulted. I still am... hence the birds flew towards the hospital as I left with him the final time.

Ok. So, this was my Mama Bear, don't mess with my family post. Maybe next time I'll write the rational, intellectual, calm post which would (and should) outline why hospital policies forbidding physician innovation are bad policy. I'm sure that's the post Doc H would want me to write. Not this one.

Thanks for reading and allowing me to vent. I feel better already!





Sunday, January 13, 2019

The Doctor is Outta Here


So, here we are-- 2019.

First, if that photo has your mind racing and your wondering if DocH left me, let me put your mind at ease. No. We are still very happily married! Phew!

Let me underscore the highlights of 2018 for you, because I know I haven't been the best at keeping you informed.

LB graduated high school
D2 graduated from college
D1 broke up with her live in BF
LB left for college
D3 graduated from college.

On a personal level, 2018 was wonderful to us. We are now empty nesters (are you considered an empty nester if you have an adult child living with you? Not sure?). We feel free from lots of financial responsibility to our kids and former spouses. It's quite liberating, and we love our family and are so proud of our kids. They have all done so great and continue to amaze us as they follow their own dreams.

But, probably most important to this blog, DocH kindly, gracefully, and humbly stepped down from all his administrative duties at the hospital, and then gave his contractually obligated 30 day notice the beginning of December. He made sure to thank everyone for their hard work and for supporting him and his department. I, on the other hand, waved the bird with both hands, as we packed our SUV with the last of his personal effects from his office of almost 20 years and drove off. Yeah, it made for an interesting Surgery Department Holiday Party, that's for sure. More about that event later...

Ugggg. You guys. These last two years were ROUGH for my DocH. I don't know where to begin. So, here's what I'm going to do. I tried to write this all out in one blog post. It is way too long and convoluted. I'm going to break this up into small blog posts, so I don't overwhelm myself and end up with nothing to post for you all.

Plus, I want to dish the dirt properly and give everyone their fair share.

More to come. I promise.




Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Reclaiming My Independence













Happy Independence Day!

You guys are awesome!

I've been more or less MIA since 2015 and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to reach out to me via email or FB. You will never understand the feelings of validation, support, and love I've felt from you all. Many times, I'd be at a low point and, DING! A lovely message would appear at a moment when I needed it the most. You are all so loved!!

So, now,  I'm just going to tell you what happened to my blogging.

Yes, work started flaring up and getting in the way of my blogging schedule. But moreover, in 2015, we had a kid graduating from high school. As luck would have it, many of her friends were interested in medicine. Do you see where I'm going with this?

These damn kids are all over cyberspace.

And a parent who blogs needs her privacy. 

*SH!T.

I first found a IRL friend following on Twitter. The FB. Then THE BLOG. Then more friends swarmed. And then, even more!!!!

I panicked. I did what any self-respecting mother, who didn't want their children to know they had been posting their life story for every person and Russian bot to read; I started deleting posts that were stories with any specific detailed references to them.

My blog is now un-whole and in tatters.

But now, years have passed. We reminisce with many of these stories around the dinner table with laughs. We've come through, and find ourselves all the better.

So, bear with me as I repost over the next few months allowing these stories to live on, and allow my blog to live in its whole entirety.

Today, this little blog reclaims her independence.

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

Closing Chapters


So, I have to tell you... I feel like we’ve been closing a lot of chapters lately.

D2 graduated from college. We talked her out of medical school and are thrilled she’s decided to go the surgical PA route. D3 just has one more semester and she’s on a gap year before MA/JD madness. So basically the girls are done with their undergrad work. We are proud and most definitely blessed.

That leaves LB (Little Buddy) who I now stand eye-to-nipple with. He just finished high school. So, there you have it. When he leaves for the dorm in mid August, we are officially empty nesters.

What the ?
How the?
Holy.

I know our boobs are a little droopier than yesterday (yes, I'm including DocH's in there, too, but don't worry. He's still the sexiest man to me), but what just happened?

But, I knew this day was coming. I started preparing last Fall. I savored every second of LBs senior year. Every game, every meet was attended. I recorded, photographed, and saved ticket stubs. I edited highlight reels for him and the team. We tailgated EVERY WEEK, not caring if it was a home game or away game until we, the parents, got busted by the principal. When LB got sick the last week of school, Doc H and I went to his graduation dinner dance without him. We took his framed senior portrait and let it occupy his seat at the banquet table. I danced the mother/son dance with it along side his friends and teammates. His GF took photos with it. I mean, we felt bad he stayed home with a terrible cold, but we felt an uncontrollable urge to celebrate #4, and the last kid’s high school graduation. I mean we did it!! We survived the high school years!!

So, there’s a couple chapters done. But, they were done SO well!

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Surgeon Envy is Pure Evil


Envy is the genesis of many evil; even between surgeons. Just sayin'.

Here's the bottom line. I absolutely, one-hundred-percent promise you at one point post-training things will go horrendously horrible. Everyone thinks it will never get worse than those good ol' training days when you didn't have pot to piss in, nor a dime to buy a bag of ramen.

But, guess what? It will. And, here is the monumental difference...

In training, you know things will get better. Post-training, you're stuck. This is it. This is your life.

Sounds daunting? It should.

So, here's what I'm willing to say at this moment in time to those bright and bushy tailed, those energetic sponges who have youth on their side...

You better be going into medicine because it is your calling and you can't imagine doing anything else with your life.

Don't be going into medicine simply because you:
come from a family of physicians,
want to make your parents happy,
were told by your SO you would make a good doctor,
your SO dreams of marrying a doctor,
think it will be a good way to make a ton of money,
want to bring honor to your family,
know it is an honorable occupation within your culture,
your sibling is a doctor,
or
you *think* you'll like it.

Because, medicine is a doggy business. What do I mean by "doggy"? I mean you work yourself to the bone. And, if the passion isn't there, eventually you will tire, and you never be the best at what you do. In fact, your colleagues will know it, your patients will feel it, and eventually the dissatisfaction oozes into all compartments of your life.

And after a bit of loathing, envy enters. You will become envious of those working around you with, and from a bright seed of PASSION. And, that my friends, is when the sh*t hits the fan.

I know. I'm watching it all happen. It's going down.

Stay tuned.




Monday, March 12, 2018

My Letter to Kelly (and YOU!)

I received a comment from Kelly over at Kelly's Reality. Do you know her? You should. She is another active doctor's wife blogger whose dedication to fitness is inspiring!

As I was replying, I felt like I owed all my wonderful, dear, and supportive readers this update. So, I share my response to Kelly with you. I miss blogging, and you can bet my butt I miss you!

Kelly:
Ok so you really need to come back to blogging pleaseeee! Can't believe its been a year miss all your witty comments.

YDW:
Kelly- You are too sweet!! Your comment made my day - no, week!! I am working again, and find myself with very little time to dedicate to blogging. Besides that, the wind has been taken out of my sails and I find myself suffering from an enormous bout of writer's block. The only way to shake it is to write about the saga, drama, and trauma, but I need to let some time pass to gain better perspective. Don't fret. The core of my life is well- THANK GOD! Yet, there is still much to write about. When I can, you can bet I will.... and many should be scared, VERY SCARED, because you know me, when I write I don't hold any punches.

In the meantime, know I love my life, my DocH, and my kids. We are all good and life is progressing just as it should. We are happy and I've learned that is the best revenge.  ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, all I can say at this juncture is stay tuned. I'm here. I'm available to all via email at yourdoctorswife@gmail.com. I've been posting here at there on my FB page. You can join me there, too!

Today is also Match Day. Best wishes to all who matched, and especially to those who find themselves scrambling. Stay calm, all will be well! I have yet to meet a doctor whose journey from A to B was a straight line.




Monday, January 16, 2017

When Things Aren't Going Well at the Hospital

In the past, I've written about my husband's role as Chief of his surgical department. While you may think this is fantastic and full of bullet points to put in the "Pro" side of a list; really, it's not so wonderful. At this point, the "Con" side outnumbers its counterpart.

I mean, seriously, I'm beginning to realize the only thing Shondra Rhimes hit nail on the head in Grey's Anatomy, is that the Chief is always under stress. Don't believe me? Here's my proof... simply Google Dr. Webber and the majority of images are much like these...

Angry and tired, or, "I can't believe you pushed that case on a partner when you have open OR time."
 
Disbelief, or, "You're getting paid a full-time wage, you're expected to work a full-time schedule."



 Simmering Anger, or, "Don't you ever talk to me like that again."


Schedule inequality, or, "Why the hell am I Chief and carrying the largest amount of patient volume?"

 Shock, or, "Are you seriously hiding in the bathroom with the reading material, while we are being overrun by patients?"

And, ultimately, it's sad and lonely at the top, because no one likes the person who has to lower the boom.


There are hardly any happy photos of Chief Webber until you hit these...

"Oh, thank my lucky stars. I only play a Chief of Surgery on TV!"


"I get my scrubs from wardrobe, not Aramark!"


James Pickens, Jr. is a lucky man. He only plays a Chief. In reality, he's not being squished like an overly-tall sandwich waiting to be devoured by budget croonies, having to justify every move of his department to his higher-up (oh, puh-leeze, don't let me get started on the hospital higher-ups)

I'm just going to say it... there's dead wood in Doc H's department. I'm telling you, there's nothing worse than having a lazy surgeon for a partner.  For Pete's sake, don't become a surgeon if you really don't have a passion for surgery. 

And, *sigh*, here's the deal. Everyone know it. Even Dr. DeadWood knows he's dead wood. Yet, he doesn't seem to care that he's: weighing down the department, causing stress to all his partners, being incredibly rude and unfair, creating a hostile work environment by spreading lies and untruths, and costing his partners and his department money

Despite all this, Dr. Deadwood has the audacity to believe he's being treated like a child, being told when he has to work, how he can take time off, how many patients he has to see, etc, etc. 

Um, no. It's called working a full-time job. If you don't like it, go find yourself a private practice who needs a part-time physician!!

I'm tired of Dr. Deadwood's actions bearing down on my Doc H. 

Can you tell?






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