I don’t have a lot of pictures of him doctoring, but here he is on a mission trip to Haiti a couple of years ago.
I interrupt my regularly scheduled ramblings to bring you a moment of shameless bragging on my husband. Tonight, we will celebrate his very last graduation in what has been a very arduous journey toward his medical career. 4 years of college. 4 years of medical school. 3 years of residency, followed by boards. And now 3 years of fellowship, coming to an end, in which he will be board certified in pediatrics and pediatric emergency medicine, and on Monday will officially begin work as an attending physician, or, even more specifically and rad, an Assistant Professor of Pediatrics, in the emergency department.
Last night, as we sipped some wine, I told him, “I’m so proud of you for finally being finished.” He asked if I had to throw the “finally” in there, but I maintain that the “finally” is necessary to indicate just what a long, difficult process this has been. I wish I could do the math on all the hours spent working and studying to get to this place. I have never seen anyone work harder to achieve their dream, and what a beautiful dream to want to take care of the tiniest patients and help them to be healthy and feel safe. As I tell people, you don’t want to have to take your kid to the ER, but if you do, he will take GREAT care of you.
I’m excited for this next step in Jon’s career and for our family, and I am so very happy and proud.
This is sort of how I imagine the computer that does the match. Image via Flickr user Lori and the Bell Jar.
At some point in toddlerhood, it eventually hits all of us, the “I can do it by myself!” And from that point on, to be human is to want to be in charge of ourselves. You’re not the boss of me! I choose my choice! I’m in charge!
Lately, though, I find myself feeling like a toddler, trying to DO IT BY MYSELF, and this thing called life keeps reminding me that I’m not always the boss of me, I don’t always get to choose my choice. Boy oh boy does the medical education system that owns our lives right now make that clear. You see, in three weeks, Jon will get an email that will suddenly reveal what we’ll be doing with our lives for the next three years. And it’s more than driving me nuts. Continue reading
I’m married to a medical resident, which explains most of the circumstances of the following conversation, had with Jon who is a bit of a zombie after working a 30 hour shift.
Scrubs. By wenzday01 @ Flickr.
Jon: “I hate the PICU.”
Me: “I thought you liked it? Just the other day you were telling me how much you like it!”
Jon: “That was before this week. Can you think of anything you’d still like to do if you had to do it 80 hours a week?”
Me: thinks for a moment. “Um, nope. Probably not even sex.”