The Plague

I've been rather sick the past 12 days with the "lab plague", which started as a cold, added on pinkeye picked up from a labmate (quick! decontaminate the microscope eyepiece!), and has settled in my lungs as a nice case of pneumonia.  I've been on antibiotics (both eyedrops and oral) for several days now, so fortunately the pinkeye is clearing up, and with the help of an inhaler, I can almost breathe without feeling like I am being stabbed in the chest (of course, courtesy of the antibiotics, I now feel like I'm being stabbed in the stomach... six of one, half dozen of the other).

I've been in and out of the lab, trying to balance healing with productivity, in hopes that resting up will kick this plague once and for all so I can head up to Boston later this week for some time in the city and spending Yom Kippur with family and friends.  Husband is in the middle of his fellowship interviews, and since there seems to be a good chance he will wind up in Boston, I am tagging along to confirm that I'd be willing to head to Boston for the next stage of my life if when I graduate.

My statcounter tells me that there are a number of individuals in the greater Boston area who read my blog, so send me your recommendations!  I've been to Boston several times before, but Husband has only been for medical school and residency (and now fellowship) interviews, so what should we do?  Send me your favorite things to do and restaurant recommendations, por favor!  Any particularly great neighborhoods to check out should I be moving in that general direction (looking for a nice balance of somewhere in walking distance to things we need, bars, restaurants, etc., but not filled with noisy undergrads)?  We'll be staying a few blocks away from Mass General, so extra bonus points for things within walking distance that I can do on my own during Husband's interviews... provided I am not still stuck in bed feeling like death.

Three Years

Three years ago, at roughly 9:00pm, I was doing this:

Three years ago, at roughly 9:30pm, I was doing this:

Three years ago, at roughly 10:30pm, I was doing this:

Three years ago, at roughly midnight, I was doing this:

Tonight, at roughly 9:00pm, I was doing this:

Tonight, at roughly 9:30pm, I was doing this:

Tonight, at roughly 10:30pm, I was doing this:

Tonight, at roughly midnight, I am doing this:

My anniversary date for the evening consists of a luciferase assay, a Western blot, and 12 Excel-sheets worth of qPCR data, which seems rather appropriate, considering that I typically feel more married to the lab than to my own husband.

After three years, I am more thankful than ever to have found a spouse who manages to put up with me. While I may not be high maintenance, high stress, or demanding, my chosen career is all three and more, and I cannot imagine it is pleasant to be married to me (and my experiments, we're a package deal) most of the time. So far, our marriage hasn't quite gone as anticipated (so much for that one year long distance plan), and I am eternally thankful for a husband that acknowledges how important science is to me and has never once pressured me to give it up, even if I appear to be taking the (very) long, (extremely) windy road through graduate school.

After all, what are a few years of living apart when we plan on growing into shriveled old octogenarians together?

Diary of a Doctor’s Wife, Episode 005

I certainly cannot attest for all marriages, but ours seems to be one based on double-standards of doctoring. The frustrating double-standard of the moment deal with the Rules of Sickness.

The Rules of Sickness are as follows:

1. When Julie is sick, she must sleep on the couch and avoid the bedroom at all costs, as not to infect Husband with germs, because he is a Doctor and is therefore Very Important and Saves Lives, and cannot afford to get sick.
2. No matter how sick Julie is feeling, she is still expected to cook dinner for Husband, because he is a Doctor and therefore works Very Hard at Saving Lives, and comes home hungry and tired and needs to replenish his energy.
3. When Husband is sick, he still gets to sleep in the bed, because he is a Doctor and works Very Hard and needs a Good Night’s Sleep and therefore should never have to sleep on the couch.

As a result of these rules, 9 times out of 10, when I am sick, it does not spread to Husband (fortunately for him), and 9 times out of 10 when he is sick, it does spread to me (unfortunately for me).

At this point, if you are like my parents, my mother-in-law, my labmates, or any of my friends, you might be thinking to yourself, “Well, at least your husband is a doctor; surely, when you are sick, it is useful to have a doctor to take care of you!”

Rule #4: Husband is a Doctor and works Very Hard all day taking care of Real Patients in the hospital and therefore has No Patience to come home and take care of Wife-Patient.

So, in other words, being married to a doctor makes me more likely to catch whatever germs he brings home from the hospital, and less likely to have someone who remotely cares that I have become sick. It’s totally a win-win situation.

And, in other humorous news, I’ve gone from raspy nails-on-a-chalkboard voice to no voice at all. And today, my PI asked me to call around and get price quotes on both a fluorescent plate reader and an ultrasonic bath. At the end of the day when I hadn’t done it, he was obviously quite visibly annoyed. Er, I have no voice – am I supposed to try to set up an iChat session with our Fisher representative and mime out “ultrasonic bath”?! Come to think of it, I was always pretty good at Charades…

Good Luck, 4th Years!

Best of luck to all the 4th year medical students out there, like our very own Mudphudder, who find out where they matched for residency tomorrow.  I spent my evening calling and emailing my list of friends in the match; my husband invited a friend of his from elementary school who is now a 4th year here at our university over for lunch and video games to help take his mind off of the big day tomorrow.  It’s quite nerve-wracking that so many years of your life are determined by what is written on a slip of paper, which everyone opens simultaneously across the country at noon (EST)… so drop by and wish Mudphudder good luck!

Husband’s friend tries to use window light to read through his envelope… with no success

It’s hard to believe that it has been only a year since Husband matched, and how our thoughts have completely reversed.  As much as I knew going into it that he would likely not match in D.C. (he didn’t think he had a good shot to match in programs in the D.C. area because they were too competitive, so he did not rank them at the top), opening the envelope and seeing with 100% certainty that he would be moving away for sure was still so disappointing, and it was really challenging for me to see him so happy and call everyone and talk about how thrilled he was to be moving back to Philadelphia and how he couldn’t wait to move “home” to be with his “family” – I kind of wanted to punch him in the face and point out that while we may not be blood related, you really can’t get much more FAMILY than your wife, and moving to Philadelphia means he was moving AWAY from the person who was legally defined as his most immediate family member.  But I also understood that for him, it was exciting to be moving on from medical school and furthering his career and that the long-distance marriage was the furthest thing from his mind, so I kept my mouth shut and plastered on a fake smile for the day.

But, because I faced what was coming, I have also very much come to terms with the fact that in two months, he will be moving away.  And you know what?  It’s okay.  Yes, it will be hard.  With our schedules and working weekends, it’s not going to be the type of long-distance marriage where we can see each other every weekend – our goal is one weekend a month… and that’s not a lot, but over the past nine months, I’ve had plenty of time to prepare.  Husband, on the other hand, was so focused on how much he hated his intern year and couldn’t wait to start his actual residency and move “home” that he seemed to totally forget that I wouldn’t be going with him.  One day, out of the blue, it was like it just hit him, and he broke down in tears, and now the tune has changed to one of not wanting June to come, because it means he has to leave.  Sadly, he is learning that in life, you cannot always have your cake, and eat it too.

What a difference a year makes.

Post-Call Valentine’s Day Waffles

Growing up, Valentine’s Day was always one of my favorite holidays. I don’t remember how, or when, or why the tradition started, but every year from the time I was in elementary school up through my junior high years, I had a big sleepover with all my closest girlfriends. My parents sacrificed a night of sleep (my father still talks about the night he learned that there is actually no sleep at a sleepover) so that 20 of my closest friends could spend the night in sleeping bags, giggling so loudly from the downstairs living room that my parents could hear us all night long all the way upstairs in their bedroom. We would play Twister and watch movies and eat heart-shaped cupcakes baked by my mother, and even to this day, friends that I lost touch with ten years ago suddenly sent me messages on Facebook yesterday saying that they still associate Valentine’s Day with my annual sleepovers. Even in high school, my friends and I would always make cards and cookies to distribute around, or buy candy-grams for each other. My freshman year of college, Valentine’s Day meant spending the evening curled up under a blanket with my closest friend at that point, watching girly movies and sharing a big bowl of popcorn.

For me, Valentine’s Day has always meant far more about loving friends than romantic love. Maybe that’s why I never understood the whole miserable, bitter “Single’s Awareness Day” attitude – whether or not I was attached, I’ve always loved taking the time out to tell my friends how much I love them and spending time with them if possible.

I think this is why it didn’t bother me that Husband was on call all day yesterday, and I didn’t see him at all on Valentine’s Day. In fact, it upset everyone else far more than it upset me – people seemed to place such importance on what we would be doing for our first Valentine’s Day as newlyweds and were so disappointed to discover that we weren’t going to be together – and were downright upset when I said that I didn’t really mind. By this point, he’s been on call through my birthday, our 1 month anniversary, our 3 month anniversary, New Years Eve, will be on call on our 1 year anniversary, and will miss so much more once he moves away… so really, what’s Valentine’s Day in the grand scheme of things? I spent the majority of my day in lab, sneaking away for a few hours to catch Confessions of a Shoapholic with two friends, which really made it the ideal Valentine’s Day for me – time with two friends that I adore, and rarely get to see (the whole ten hours in lab with proteins that don’t cooperate was kind of less than ideal, though).

Even though I wouldn’t be seeing him, I still wanted to try to do something for my husband. With Husband’s $250,000 medical school debt, we don’t really do gifts for each other for birthdays or Hanukkah, so gifts for Valentine’s Day were certainly out of the question (making payments on his 8% loan serves as all our gifts to each other for these occasions… and to think, before I got married, I had zero debt whatsoever!). So, I put on my Crafty Cap and decided to get work. I’ve mentioned before that Husband is doing his intern year in medicine, but I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned that afterward, he’ll be going into radiology. And thus, I decided to embroider him a little card to pack with his lunch… with a chest x-ray. What more could a future radiologist need? Apparently, it was quite the hit amongst all the residents in the ICU last night (Husband’s only complaint was why is he in normal clothes – shouldn’t he be in a white coat?) Of course, he said that now he can’t wait to see what I put together for next year, so I’m already accepting suggestions for radiology-themed Valentine’s gifts for 2010. FYI, embroidering a rib cage is slightly more complicated than one might think. I suggest not trying to do it freehanded.

(Erm, excuse the fact that the feet were cut off accidentally and taped back together. 4am paper cutter malfunction.)

This morning, I headed to the lab early to time the loading of my protein on the column with when he would be coming home from call, and made him chocolate waffles. I have a great Belgian waffle recipe that I will share in the future, but since Husband LOVES chocolate, I decided to spice things up and try making an all-chocolate version for a change. Apparently, they were a big hit (I passed on them, since I’m not a chocolate person myself).

Chocolate Fudge Waffles
Makes 2 Waffles

Ingredients:

• 2 ounces unsweetened chocolate
• 1/6 cup butter
• 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar
• 1/2 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 egg
• 1/4 cup milk (I use fat-free)
• 1/4 cup sour cream (I use fat-free)

Directions:

1. Preheat waffle iron.
2. In a double boiler, melt chocolate and butter over low heat.
3. Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, granulated sugar, and cocoa powder.
4. In a large bowl, beat together egg, milk, sour cream, and vanilla by hand. Gradually stir in flour mixture and melted chocolate and butter. Stir until smooth.
5. Grease/oil/spray waffle iron per directions for individual iron. Pour enough batter to fill 2/3 of the waffle iron (half of batter). Push batter out to the edges with a spoon. Cook until crisp on edges and a dark rich brown (I have a Waring-Pro Belgian waffle maker with 6 heat settings; I cooked mine at setting 4).
6. My husband topped his with maple syrup, but if I had one, I would have opted for whipped cream. Or a sprinkle of powdered sugar. Or maybe some vanilla ice cream…

101 in 1001

I first read about the 1001 Days Project on Sherry's blog. The idea is simple -- come up with a list of 101 things you want to accomplish in 1001 days (roughly 2.75 years). I intended to start my list on my 25th birthday, but things were busy and hectic in June, and my list was stuck around 50. Time passed, and I forgot about it altogether... and last night, at a New Year's party, discussions of resolutions reminded me about the list. So while in lab today, I finished it up, and I'm officially starting today.


I'm bending the rules a bit -- not all of my tasks have a result that is clearly measurable for success. I'm not looking to do things short term (i.e., drink 8 glasses of water everyday for 2 months), but rather to do things frequently enough that by the time the 1001 days rolls around, they have become part of my daily routine and are normal for me. But hey, this is my list for myself, so I'm going to do it how I please.

I'll update on this page as tasks are completed -- follow along with my success [link on blog navigation bar].

Between January 1, 2009 and September 29, 2011, I will...

Professional:

1. Learn to love science again.
2. Write up experiment protocols and results for each experiment within 48 hours of completion.
3. Attend seminars on a regular basis (even if it means working 15 hour days to fit seminars around experiments).
4. Do an out-of-the-box, crazy experiment -- logical experiments aren't working, so maybe something crazy will!
   
5. Present a poster at a conference.
6. Submit a paper as a first author and have paper accepted.
7. Clean chemical bench every Friday.
8. Successfully defend thesis -- become Disgruntled Julie, Ph.D.
9. Regardless of when I defend, return to D.C. for graduation ceremonies.
   
10. Figure out what I want to do post-graduate school.
11. Find a job in desired field in Philadelphia area.
    
    Relationships:
    
12. Host a girls' night once a year.
13. Host a Game-a-thon.
14. Host a Dessert-a-thon.
15. Host an old-fashioned sleepover.
    
16. Mail a card or letter to a friend once a month.
17. Learn how to make the most of a long-distance marriage.
    
18. [personal]
    
    Growing Up:
    
19. Remake larger wedding album.
    
20. Move to Philadelphia to live with Husband.
21. Buy a house or condo.
22. Buy/lease/inherit (from Husband) a car if we are not living in a public transportation friendly neighborhood.
23. Find a synagogue we like and become members.
24. Actually drag Husband to services at said synagogue.
    
25. Establish long-term primary care physician in Philadelphia.
26. Make new friends in Philadelphia, but...
27. Keep in touch with old friends and visit as often as possible.
    
28. Purchase remaining items from our wedding registry.
29. Apply for passport with hyphenated last name.
30. Sign up for life insurance with Husband.
31. Draft a living will.
    
    Financial:
    
32. Take spare change to bank.
33. Transfer money to ING savings account on the first of each month.
34. Continue to track all finances in Microsoft Money, and make a better effort to stick to my budget.
    
35. Increase savings account by $10,000.
36. Pay off interest each month on Husband's medical school loans.
37. Have at least 15 "no spend" days per month -- spend absolutely no money at all.
    
    Domestication:
    
38. Bake the perfect challah.
39. Bake the perfect cherry pie.
    
40. Host major holiday dinner at our new abode in Philadelphia.
41. Host a formal dinner party (for no specific reason).
42. Take a cake decorating class.
43. Shampoo carpets in current condo.
44. Send cookie packages to soldiers through Operation Baking GALS.
45. Create a cookbook with favorite recipes.
46. Cook something different each night for a month.
    
    Crafting:
    
47. Use up yarn in stash.
48. Open Etsy shop.
49. Sell something from Etsy shop.
50. Learn to needlepoint.
51. Master knitting in the round.
52. Make blanket for Project Linus.
53. Make blanket for Spirit Jump (and hopefully make a new friend in the process).
    
54. Learn how to quilt.
55. Knit or crochet something for myself -- I've given away everything I've ever made to other people.
56. Hand make holiday cards and send to family and friends every year.
    
57. Create yearly photo books.
    
    Organizing:
58. Clean out closet and donate old clothes.
59. Organize bathroom storage under sink.
60. Organize recipes in Evernote.
61. Print copy of all recipes on recipe cards and store in binders (less potential for disaster than dragging laptop to kitchen every time I cook something new).
    
62. Organize magazines -- scan in articles of interest and recycle remaining magazines.
63. Organize bills from past year.
64. Organize health care paperwork from past year.
65. Organize bank statements.
66. Collect all old cards and mail to St. Jude's Ranch for Children Card Recycling Program.
    
    Health, Fitness, and Appearance:
    
67. Drink 8 glasses of water per day.
68. Floss every day, not just when I have extra time.
69. Take vitamins appropriately -- i.e., split up calcium pills morning and night, not both at the same time.
70. Find a weekday when I can return "home" to central PA to see my family dentist.
    
71. Lose 20 pounds.
72. Work out three times per week.
73. Track what I eat every day.
74. Do not eat after 8pm on weekdays.
    
75. Complete Couch to 5K program.
76. Stretch daily -- make physical therapist proud!
77. [personal]
    
78. Develop a skin care routine to ward off wrinkles.
79. Get over fear of dying hair, and cover up all the incoming grey hairs rather than pluck them until I am bald.
80. Get a fantastic haircut.
81. Donate blood.
    
    Hobbies & Skills:
    
82. Start playing piano again.
83. Complete Project 365.
84. Blog at least once per week.
85. Take a photography course.
86. Learn and feel comfortable using all features on my current dSLR camera.
    
87. Read 100 books.
88. Win my fantasy football league.
    
89. Take golf lessons.
90. Go scuba diving and pursue further advanced certification.
91. Go skiing with my father.
    
92. Learn conversational Hebrew.
93. Re-read the Tanakh, cover-to-cover, in order, on my own time.
    
94. Attend Screen on the Green and picnic with friends.
95. Eat at 15 new restaurants.
    
96. Re-learn how to parallel park -- haven't owned a car in seven years!
97. Back up computer every 2 weeks.
98. Take a real vacation with just Husband to someplace wonderful.
99. Take a family cruise with our parents.
100. Go camping.
     
     
101. Be happy with who I am and the direction my life has taken.
     

Diary of a Doctor's Wife, Episode 004

This year, toward the end of Thanksgiving dinner hosted by my husband's aunt and uncle, my husband's aunt's (through marriage) niece showed up to visit, along with her six year old daughter. Technically speaking, she is not at all related to my husband, but since she lives with my husband's uncle and is at almost every family gathering, she has become, in essence, a cousin.

The cousin and her mother were unable to attend our wedding, and thus we had not seen them since... quite possibly, last Thanksgiving. She was well aware of the fact that we were married now, from the big deal of her great-aunt and uncle shopping for formal attire and spending the weekend away, but had not processed the fact that Husband was now a doctor.

Upon realization of this, her eyes suddenly lit up. "OH!" she gasped, "He's a doctor! So THAT'S why Julie married him!"

Alas, now I can even get snarky comments from a six-year-old regarding why I married my husband. Also, what, exactly, are they teaching children in kindergarten these days? Back in the good old days, every boy in my class wanted to be a fireman or a policeman. Now, do they all stand up and say "When I grow up, I want to be a doctor, so I can land me allllll the honies!"

6 Months Ago...

I cannot possibly believe that it has only been 6 months, and not 6 years, since our wedding. I don't know if this is a good thing (we're comfortably settled in and have a happy little routine down pat) or a bad thing (we're getting sick of each other already?). Or, perhaps, come to think of it, the feeling like we have been together for so long may have something to do that next week would mark our six year dating anniversary, if we were to still be celebrating it.

Either way, now that six months have come and gone, and my pictures are (mostly) organized and the requests keep rolling in, I vow to start actually offering up some pictures of my wedding, for those of you who have been patiently waiting for half a year.

Adaptability

I have a secret confession to make. One of my biggest concerns of my upcoming long-distance marriage is not that I will pine away in misery without my husband... but that I will become so used to life without him that I will find him annoying and a general pain in the tush when forced to live with him again.

You see, I assimilate myself to my current living conditions absurdly well. I'm like a regular chameleon. Homesick? Not in my dictionary. The first time I was shipped off to overnight camp at the ripe old age of 8, everyone around me was homesick and cried, so I cried, because I thought that was what you were supposed to do at overnight camp. Once the counselors explained that you didn't have to miss home, if you didn't actually miss your home, and you were allowed to have fun... well then heck, I was sold. Home is where I hang my hat, whether I'm there for a week or a year.

Tonight is Husband's last night on Night Float service, which means that he'll be back to a normal schedule of working during daylight hours. But between you and me... well, I've adapted. And frankly, it's been kind of nice to be the Queen of the Castle. When I want peace and quiet, it's blissfully quiet, which is something I never, ever get when Husband is around -- he has to have the TV and radio on at all times, and I hate it. When I do want to turn on the TV, I get to control the remote and watch what I want, which I never get to do when Husband is around. I haven't had to listen to Philadelphia sports radio once since he's been on Night Float! And to get to spread out at night and actually sleep without someone pushing me out of bed... it's been quite delightful.

Now, this isn't to say that I don't love my husband or want to spend time with him, and all of these problems could easily be solved by expanding from our little one bedroom condo to something with a bit more space. And of course, going a few weeks is quite different than going a few years living without someone.

But for me, these past few weeks have confirmed my suspicions that moving back in together are probably going to be far harder than moving apart.

Phillies Win! Husband Loses!

Tonight, the Philadelphia Phillies won only their second World Series in 125 years, ending the Philadelphia championship drought. The whole "we've gone the longest in consecutive sports seasons without a championship" whine never really did much for me, since for the most part, I dislike Philadelphia sports fans, but over the 7 years I've been with my husband, I've definitely developed a soft spot in my heart for the Phillies. My grandfather need not worry, I was born into a Yankees family, and will die a fan, but there's no reason why I can't support a National League team as well. And if I'm going to be forced to live out the majority of years of my life in Philadelphia, I may as well like ONE of the teams there... and well, my father instilled in me a loathing of the Flyers, and while I'm content when the Eagles do well, the people of Philadelphia seem to think there is some ginormous Steelers-Eagles rivalry, and I get booed and cursed at and called all sorts of derogatory things when I wear my Steelers attire, which doesn't do much for me. But the Phillies? The Phillies I like.

And tonight, the Phillies won the World Series. And instead of watching and celebrating with my husband, I watched by myself, because my husband is on night float, meaning he works every night from 7pm-8am. So, apparently, as his new wife, I am missing the Most Important Event in his lifetime, as he phrased it. Because my relatively unemotional husband, who was not overly excited nor shed tears of joy on our wedding day, just called me after watching Brad Lidge throw the final strike of the game, and was in tears.

Tears. Crying. Because watching the Phillies win the World Series was the Most Important Event of his lifetime thus far. I mean, hey, I was neither jumping up and down nor crying at our wedding, but I also don't cry for sporting events. There were no tears when the Steelers won the Superbowl.

And so, dear Husband, if the Phillies winning is the Most Important Event, then let me ask you this: once you are done with night float, and return to your regularly scheduled sleeping schedule, will Cole Hamels be the one keeping you warm at night?

Disgruntled Julie: Destroyer of the Environment

First order of business -- this morning, I was so absorbed in ensuring that I properly calculated the molar ratios of my proteins that I was completely unaware of the date -- 10/23 -- thus making it Mole Day! So, Happy Mole Day to all my fellow biochemists and chemists out there, and anyone else who, like me, uses molarity calculations on what seems like an hourly basis.

Secondly, a coworker brought to my attention an article from Slate on the environmental case against long-distance relationships, and then proceeded to harass me for 20 minutes why, in a nutshell, I am a selfish and shitty person for embarking upon what will be a long-distance marriage come June, and how all the environmental problems in the world can now all be blamed on me. I find his argument to be selfish and shitty because really, when you think about it, my husband and I are not doing this for "fun" by any stretch of the imagination. We did not meet and start dating long distance. We dating living in D.C. We were engaged living in D.C. It just so happened that his residency will not be in D.C., and that I will not be done with my Ph.D. (or, as it seems to be, anywhere near done with my Ph.D.) when my husband completes his intern year and moves on for his residency.

This leaves us with three options. One: My husband does not complete his residency and is never actually able to help people with his chosen career as a physician, just so that we can live in the same location and not be environmentally unfriendly with our traveling. Two: I drop out of graduate school and move with him, and give up on my research in pediatric oncology and stop attempting to develop new drugs for a very malignant and understudied pediatric cancer, so that we can live in the same location and not be environmentally unfriendly with our traveling. Or three: we continue on our career paths, and as our schedules permit, my husband drives down here to visit me (the preferred option so that I can still do some work in the lab on weekends), or I take the train up to visit him.

And yet, despite my arguments to the contrary, said coworker continued to insist that if I was environmentally responsible and cared at all about future generations, I would have called off the wedding and our relationship as soon as I found out my husband did not match here in D.C.

Which, you know, despite being absurd and ridiculous, still leaves me slightly irritated and grumpy because I don't like getting yelled at -- especially when I don't deserve it. Though not nearly as irritated and grumpy as my uncooperative proteins.

Diary of a Doctor's Wife, Episdoe 003

This afternoon, Husband and I did our weekly grocery shopping trip. It's the one thing we do together (almost every) week, since he's the driver of the relationship, and since I pack all our lunches and cook every dinner that we eat, I can't lug home 1-2 weeks worth of groceries the mile long walk by myself. Husband was on a 36 hour overnight call shift last night, so he asked if we could just go grocery shopping immediately afterward, so he could just come home and sleep for the rest of the afternoon.

I was in lab all morning, so he picked me up in the lab to go grocery shopping, and dropped me back off afterward. Having just come off a call night, he was dressed in his scrubs, so in the checkout line, the female cashier made the educated guess and asked if he was a doctor. She then asked if I was his wife, and then said "So then you're a nurse, right?"

As we walked through the parking lot, Husband commented on the fact that just because I have a vagina, I'm automatically stuck in the position of a nurse. Don't get me wrong -- I'm certainly not stating that there is anything wrong with nursing, and my husband is the first to acknowledge that he couldn't function without the nursing staff -- but why couldn't I have also been a doctor? Why, because I am the female, did I have to be the nurse? But then I also wondered, why did I even have to be a nurse at all? Why didn't she think I was a teacher, or some other equally gender stereotypical role -- was it because doctors are only supposed to marry nurses? Or, more specifically, doctors are supposed to leave their first wives to run off with their nurses (I actually have two friends whose mothers were the nurses and their fathers were the doctors in this exact situation).

Of course, after venting his frustration with society and it's gender role's in the parking lot, he has thus decided to enjoy himself at my expense. This evening, every time he wants something, it has been "Nurse, get me a fork." "Nurse, wash my white coat." "Nurse, bring me some Advil." Unfortunately for him, I am not a nurse, I am a biochemist, and I have access to some extremely toxic drugs in my laboratory. Wouldn't it be a shame if some accidentally wound up in his dinner tomorrow? Whoops. (Just kidding. I know he teases in jest.)

Diary of a Doctor's Wife, Episode 002

Yesterday was our one month anniversary. Apparently, this is a Really Big Deal. I was totally unaware of this fact, but apparently you are still supposed to be in that lovey-dovey can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other stage after one month and one month is celebratory. With our schedule, we don’t have time to see each other, let alone get our hands on each other, so needless to say, the honeymoon period of our marriage was over the day the honeymoon ended. There is no lovey-doveiness, no cuddling on the couch, no sappy pet names… we are a tired, overworked, grumpy, old married couple one month into our wedding relationship.

Everyone wanted to know what we were doing to celebrate the monumental occasion of our one-month-iversary. The answer, of course, was absolutely nothing together, considering that he was on call overnight in the ICU, and I myself wound up stuck in the lab past midnight, working over 17 hours straight in the lab. We didn’t eat our slice of cake (rather than eat the entire gigantic top layer of cake on our one year anniversary, we cut it into twelve slices to eat each month), we didn’t drink the bottle of champagne someone bought us specifically for our one month anniversary… we didn’t even see each other. But it wasn’t really a big deal to me, because I’m a grumpy old married lady, so who has time for sappiness?

Today, I’ve gone through the same phone calls all over again, because it is my birthday. What fun surprises does my husband have in store? People reluctantly accepted that he was on call yesterday, but today they thought he must have something up his sleeve! My mother-in-law called this morning to wish me a happy birthday, and wanted to know if I knew what Husband had planned. Absolutely nothing was my answer – he was going to come home post-call and sleep. His plan was to nap from the time he got home until I returned from lab, we’d grab a quick dinner somewhere to celebrate, and he’d return to bed, but there were no surprises in there – he was definitely not going to have a gourmet dinner ready (he does not cook, period), no fancy dinner reservations – we were just going to get a fast dinner somewhere up the street. And heck, considering that I seem to go days without seeing him, short of a 4:30am pajama pager run, that was fine with me. She didn’t buy it – after all, he was post-call! He had ALL AFTERNOON off to plan something! There was something big in store for me!

I returned home from lab around 7pm, and Husband was still sound asleep. I gently poked him in bed, and he grunted something about being too tired, there was a card on the table, and happy birthday. And thus, my birthday is celebrated by myself, sitting on the couch, with sushi from Whole Foods. Not that there is anything wrong with this – I’m exhausted from the lab, I enjoy the peace and quiet, and I love me some multi-grain tuna roll – but that whole thing about how once you get married you’re never alone anymore? Yeah. Big myth. Stay tuned for the upcoming tale about how I get to be a bridesmaid in a wedding in Michigan the ONLY WEEKEND my husband has off for six weeks and how he decided not to come. Being married to a doctor? Two big gigantic thumbs up (the ass). And turning 25? Well, like one of my dear friends pointed out – it’s probably not all that worth celebrating anyways, since it’s halfway to 50.

Diary of a Doctor's Wife, Episode 001

Thursday morning was my husband’s first day as a medical intern. I was telling the story of my morning to one of the post-docs (complete with gestures, voices, and full-on action reenactments) and once she stopped laughing hysterically and wiped the tears away from her eyes, she told me I had to start a diary of all my experiences of being a WOD (Wife of Doctor). So, without further ado, I present to you (slightly delayed), episode one…

Let’s get one thing clear from the beginning. My husband’s family thinks that my husband is the greatest human to ever walk the earth. And then, he graduated from medical school. Every sentence out of my mother-in-law’s mouth for the rest of her life will begin with “My son, the doctor, says…”. Look. I get it. It’s a huge accomplishment, especially since he was the first in his family to go to college. But I really resent how they feel like I am so incredibly lucky not to have just found a husband in general, but to be married to a doctor.

I’m not trying to be stereotypical here, but I’m Jewish. I’ve seen first-hand the number of Jewish girls who are primed to marry doctors (and if all else fails, a lawyer). That’s not me. Heck, my mother tried to talk me out of marrying him BECAUSE he is a doctor (he’ll never be home, he won’t have time for me, he’ll never be around for the kids, the divorce rate is so high, marry a nice stable engineer like your father, yadda yadda). But, what happened, happened, and obviously I wasn’t going to not marry him just because two years after we started dating he went to medical school, and then four years after that, he graduated. You can’t always pick these little details.

That said, I didn’t marry him looking for this wife of a doctor lifestyle my in-law family seems to think is waiting for me. They have an extremely hard time grasping what I do – they have said multiple times that it must be so hard sitting at home nights and weekends waiting for him to come home. When I point out that often, I’m the one working longer hours, they look at me in shock – someone once had the nerve to say “You must waste a lot of time during the day, how long does it take to mix a couple of chemicals together and wait for some reaction?” So, as the wife of a doctor, I’m sure they imagine my day goes something like this:
Go into the lab for three to four hours. Weigh a few chemicals, mix, make a few pretty colors. Write down observations. Head to the spa for a massage and a facial. Swing by Barneys on the way home to exchange the dress I picked up last week, and buy a new tie for my husband. Come home and prepare dinner so it is ready just as he walks in the door. Iron his white coat while he watches the news, have a glass of wine before bed, discuss names of future children, and repeat in the morning.
Obviously, it’s wonderful and relaxing and just delightful being the wife of a doctor, I have no responsibilities, and when he works so hard, I sit around pining for him and so sad that he is away so much.

Welcome to reality.

1:30am: Finally finish analyzing data for lab. Try to climb in bed. Husband moans in sleep and pushes me out. Try to get back in bed. Mumbles something about trying to get good night’s sleep before starting and pushes me out again. Give up and sleep on couch.
4:15am: Husband pokes me awake on couch. Asks me to take his picture as he heads to the hospital for his first day as a real doctor. Take picture. Return to bed.
4:20am: Phone rings. Run to living room. Stub toe on door. Swear loudly. Husband asks me to buy pen light today. Swear at husband that he could have called at 7am to make same request. Back to bed.
4:35am: Phone rings again. Husband asks if I have seen pager. Resist urge for smart ass response that all I have seen is inside of eyelids. Locate pager on coffee table. Husband asks me to run said pager to hospital. Fine, I offer to get dressed for the day and bring it. No, need pager STAT. Run pager, IN PAJAMAS, to hospital, at 4:35am. IN PAJAMAS. RUNNING. WITH PAGER. 4:35AM. UP UNTIL 1:30 ANALYZING DATA.
4:45am: Get yelled at for not bringing papers sitting under pager. Not told to bring papers sitting under pager. Should have intuitively known. Count down days until husband moves away to Philadelphia for rest of residency.

Life of luxury my ass. Yeah, it’s real freaking fabulous being married to a doctor, let me tell you.

Three weeks ago...

Three weeks ago, today.

A couple of hours ago, we pulled back into D.C., after 3.5 weeks away. Everybody should be so fortune as to take a three week honeymoon. It was amazing. Pictures to come.

Tomorrow, lab. I hope morning never comes.

Match Day

The next person to ask me some variation of the following three questions will find themselves with my 3" pointy stiletto heel of my Kenneth Cole New York pumps implanted in their skull:

1) Wow, you guys are going to be living several hours apart for several years. Don't you have any concept of how hard that will be?
2) Why isn't he staying in DC? If he really loved you, he would have stayed where you are. Are you sure you should be getting married?
3) What do you mean you're not dropping out of graduate school to move with him? A good wife would put her husband first and move with him.


In case you were wondering, my answers to the above questions:
1) Really? Seriously? I had NO IDEA. I thought it was going to be fantastic! I thought having a husband live in a different geographical region from me was going to be SO amazing that all my friends would be jealous and decide to live apart from their significant others! NO SHIT I'M AWARE THAT IT'S GOING TO BE HARD, YOU MORON. But thanks for reminding me and making sure I can't temporarily stick it in the back of my head and try to be happy that he matched at a program he really liked.
2) Or, maybe rather than not loving me enough, he just wasn't competitive enough. Maybe his board scores weren't good enough, and that Pass in surgery wasn't good enough, and his letters of recommendation weren't strong enough. Maybe if he had picked a less competitive field than radiology, he would have been able to stay here. But he was only offered one interview in radiology in the area and when he met with the program director, she encouraged him to rank other schools higher in his list. Which is why he did. Which is why he matched at his top choice, which would not be here. Or, maybe you're right and he totally doesn't love me enough. That could absolutely be it too.
3) No comment, just a middle finger extension.

My Hat, It Has Three Corners...

When I'm stressed, I bake. There's just something about pulling out the rolling pin and taking the time to slow down and concentrate only on rolling out a perfect circle of dough that I find so relaxing and calming.
That said, it's quite convenient that Match Day also coincides with Purim.

There are currently six dozen hamentashen (cherry and apricot) sitting in my kitchen, should anyone want to drop by. Because if you don't eat them, the next thing I do when I'm stressed is eat. And I'm already nervous enough about not fitting in my dress when I go for my first fitting. And really, while I do enjoy good hamentashen (and mine are quite good, if I can be not-so-humble for a moment) and look forward to Purim for just that reason, nobody needs to eat six dozen.

Oh, and if you happen to be matching tomorrow, good luck! And if you happen to be the significant other of someone matching and you have either a) been dating less than 6 months, or b) will automatically be moving wherever your significant other goes, please look elsewhere for sympathy tonight. I've already had people in each category both tell me "You have no idea how nervous I am for tomorrow." Yep, you're right. I've been with my fiance 5.5 years. We're getting married in 2 months. And if he matches elsewhere, we'll be living apart. Not for a couple months or a year... until I finish my Ph.D. Which would be 3.5 to 4 years. Married. Living apart. 4 years.
Nope, I totally have no idea what you mean about being nervous.
Kindly look elsewhere for your sympathy, because you sure aren't getting any from me. But I can offer you a hamentash.

"Anonymous" Donor

Last month, I randomly received in the mail an issue of Working Mother magazine. As I am neither "working" by the literal definition of the word (apparently my bazillion hours in the lab don't count) nor a mother of any sort, I thought this was odd. I just assumed, however, that it was one of those free trial issues. The magazine gurus saw my subscription to Martha Stewart's Weddings was going to expire, so they figured this was the logical next step -- you know the rhyme, first comes love, then comes marriage, etc. No big deal. We, coincidentally, happened to have a pregnant friend visiting the day I received the magazine in the mail, and she happily took it off my hands.

Then, earlier this week, another issue came. With a notice that I had received a gift for a one-year subscription to the magazine.

Let me make this clear: I will not be a mother anytime in the near future. No way, no how. I have said for a long time that I do not want to even think about children within my first 5 years of marriage, and considering that a week from tomorrow is Match Day and I'll find out exactly how many hundred(s) of miles I'll be living apart from my soon-to-be husband, I especially have no desire to basically be a single mother working a bazillion hours per week in lab for a $24,000/year stipend while my husband is living several hundred miles away working a bazillion hours per week as a resident. Someday, I hope to have children. Someday, in the distant future, when I am residing in the same city as my husband and our hours are reduce to only half a bazillion hours a week and we're making a bit more money. Someday would not be now.

This is a point of contention with my future mother-in-law. She absolutely, positively cannot wait for grandchildren. Cannot wait. As in, she would be THRILLED if I announced today, unmarried, that I was pregnant. She made the offer that if we wanted to have children ASAP, she would take the grandchild and raise it in Philly and I could come visit on occasional weekends when I can get out of the lab. My fiance sat down and talked with her about her incessant nagging last summer when it reached the point where we both felt like I was only welcome into his family on account of my uterus (which in and of itself isn't a great thing, since my ovaries tend to be rather dysfunctional to begin with, so there's no guarantee that I can even have children, which will clearly make me the biggest failure ever in the eyes of his mother). Since the big argument, things have toned down -- we thankfully no longer get the "When I have grandchildren..." speech every time we visit, though it is obvious that she is still bitter about the subject.

That said, I finally got around to contacting Working Mother today to find out why on earth I am receiving the magazine. Apparently, an "anonymous donor" from Pennsylvania bought me a year long subscription. Hmm. I wonder who that could be.

I think my uterus is now officially closed for business after this stunt.