Endgame

To quote one of my favorite movies, Love Actually:
"Alone again...naturally."

I am officially a Single Female Surgeon yet again.  I broke up with the make-up/break-up for once and for all tonight.  We had an absolutely amazing nine months, and then an absolutely terrible three months in which he tried to get me to quit my fellowship, my dream, and then kissed another woman.  I tried as hard as I could, but I couldn't get over either transgression.  And as I tried to rebuild my life around him, I started to realize that I was slowly unbuilding myself.  As I said earlier, I had become a crying lump of girl, and lost my sense of self and self-esteem in the process.  It has become too humiliating to keep running after a guy who embodies the Katy Perry song, "Hot and Cold."

In retrospect, I pretty much have been a serial monogamist for the past ten years.  One relationship to the next.  Make-up/break-up and I went out as a rebound from the relationship before him.  It was one hell of a rebound.

It's time to be single and enjoy it for a bit. 

Like Carrie Bradshaw says in the series finale of Sex and the City,
"But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. "

I'm going to get right on that.  But first, I think it's okay to have a good cry.

On Adventure

This weekend, I went to the Mountain Time Zone to see the make-up/break-up. We are trying to work things out. It's a process, but as his Christmas gift, I took the first step and booked a ticket to go out there and see him.

I must say that there was a slightly selfish reason for my being out here in the dead of winter. Make-up/break-up is a skier. A very, very good skier. I know that if this is going to work out, I must take an interest. And actually, it's not that I feel like I have to, it's something I've always wanted to learn how to do.

Unfortunately, I booked the plane ticket to visit before we knew his call schedule and it turned out that he was on in-house call for the entirety of Saturday. So I figured, what the heck? I bought some snowpants and took myself out to the slopes for an all-day skiing lesson.

It was absolutely fabulous. I had a wonderful time--it got my mind off everything except managing to stay upright. I had a smile on my face the whole day for the first time in several months. And though I landed on my ass...just a few times...I was proud of myself for creating a bit of adventure.

During the ski lesson, I met two lovely young, successful ladies from Maryland who were part of my class--they were full of questions and advice about my rather silly little love life. They were surprised and proud that I put myself out there on the slopes and didn't wait for my man to take me skiing.

One of the ladies was married and had three kids, the other woman was recently separated from her husband. They both advised me to take my time and not be in a hurry to get married.

But, I retorted, the family pressures, the biological pressures, the societal pressures...

Again, they reiterated that the most important relationship I would ever have in my life is the one I have with myself. They believed that in order to be in a successful relationship with someone else, I first have to be in a successful relationship with myself. Essentially, I must know and love myself in order to know and love someone else.

Interesting advice, and something I had been thinking about a lot recently, but hadn't been able to articulate until I met the Maryland ladies on Saturday. As an experiment, I've taken this on. Instead of waiting for phone calls, texts, whatever, I am trying to get out and live my own life a bit, to find some adventure. I'm getting back in touch with my friends, learning new things, and taking time to get to know myself again as an individual separate from him.

Granted, this is a challenge in the confines of a resident schedule. But I figure that one small adventure each day is a good start.

I will report back on this.

Isn't There Someone For You to Go Home To?

On a recent Friday night, I was working late. Cases were backed up, as usual, due to MAFAT. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with this term, it refers to "Mandatory Anesthesia F$%*! Around Time." Also known as "slow turnover." So, there I was, chilling in the doctor's lounge. I was working on preop for the following week's cases. Since it was late anyways, I figured, what the heck? Might as well get it done so I can have a little extra time to do other things on the weekend.

My attending walked into the lounge, grabbed his coat. He was like, "You should get out of here. I mean, there must be someone or something for you to go home to?"

Ummm...not really. Sure, I've got a few friends to hang out with. But all I have waiting at home are some really thirsty plants and a sink chock full of dirty dishes. (An aside: I refuse to get a cat. I will NEVER be a cat lady. I cannot emphasize this fact enough. I am a young, hip SFS. Manolos, not cats.) I would love to have someone waiting for me at home. Absolutely. I'd love to walk in the door and have someone fabulous (and hopefully hot) ask me how my day was, and for me to do likewise. Like my male colleagues, I'd love to have a hot meal waiting for me on the stove, dishes done, bills paid, laundry folded. Unfortunately, not for lack of trying, such a person does not yet exist in my life.

I recently read a blog post by another physician who quoted a study about how single physicians are at a higher risk of suicide--single female docs are especially high risk. We have to work harder to be valued on the job, and have to work especially hard to find someone of comparable educational and mental capacity to value us outside the job. We also have to work hard to value ourselves, our time, and the fact that we can and should have a personal life. In my residency program, no women have ever gotten pregnant or had children. In my residency, not a single woman has gotten married during residency. In my residency, the guys get a week off when their wife has a kid and I have to cover them. I have to fight to get them to cover me for one hour for my monthly hair appointment.

Interestingly, my attending also mentioned that at a recent evaluation, the other faculty felt I was doing an excellent job, but I needed to get out the hospital more because they were worried I was going to "burn out." However, if I spent more time having a life, I would have less time to do an excellent job. And there is the rub. I have to work much harder at being considered excellent at work than my male colleagues. I'm not even sure they know how many hours outside of the hospital I spend preparing for their cases, reading, writing papers, and doing personnel management.

So, what did I do that night? I cried a little in the stairwell, and I left the hospital. I watered my thirsty plants. I loaded my dishwasher. I talked to my sister and my parents. I watched some TV. Then I went to sleep. Because, as always, another day of call awaits...

Check out the link to the blog post at:
http://docwhisperer.wordpress.com/2007/01/10/suicide-and-the-single-female-doc/

Vulnerability

As a surgeon, the last word I would use to describe myself is "vulnerable." Surgeons are captains of a ship and have to have a certain measure of hubris and cajones to get the job done. Or at least, create a persona that has the appearance of impenetrability. We have all been in THAT case in which nothing goes right. Instead of dissolving into a fit of tears or anger, we must just take a deep breath and power on through the bleeding. The fits of tears are for the stairwell after we get the patient taken care of.

So why is it that when I am having problems with my make-up/break-up guy, I become a pathetic crying lump of girl? In matters of the bleeding heart...should we have cojones or Kleenex?

The make-up/break-up and I had a long, dramatic conversation about our relationship yet again on Friday. I was having second thoughts about having him in my life again. Back in October, we were talking about getting married. I even introduced him to my stringent parents...and I don't bring guys home to my parents unless I'm really serious about them. Make-up/break-up was only the second guy to visit my parents--the last one I was engaged to.

I had opened up my heart, life, and family to make-up/break-up with cautious optimism that I had finally met my life partner. I was trusting and therefore, vulnerable.

Now, after everything in the past few months, I am scared to make myself vulnerable with him again. Once the wall comes down, the hurt of disappointment is overwhelming. However, I don't think I can go through life being an "ice princess." It's just not my style.

I was talking with one of my dear friends last night who is a nurse. She and the boyfriend just celebrated their one year "anniversary." She is about to officially become divorced as well. As a divorcee, despite being in her mid-thirties and feeling the ticking biological clock, she is also nervous about being vulnerable in her relationship. The upshot of our conversation? I think it's summed up in that utterly hackneyed saying: dance like no one's watching, love like it's never gonna hurt. Yech.

Interestingly, in our conversation on Friday, make-up/break-up told me I needed to have more self-confidence and assertiveness on my end of the relationship. That the self-defeating attitude is detrimental to the relationship. Maybe I need to find a balance between the Kleenex and cojones.

A 50-50 Proposition

In clinic today, I met a patient who has been married for 61 years. Count 'em. Sixty one. I see a lot of male patients with cancer and they almost always come to see me accompanied by their wives. Since my patient population essentially comprises the 65 plus crowd, I always ask how long they've been married. Actually, most patients proudly volunteer the information when I ask who the "lovely lady" with them is.

My stock question for them at that point is...what is the secret? To a good marriage? A long marriage? A great relationship?

I hear a lot of different answers. My patient today told me it was a "50-50" proposition. Basically, she gave the orders and he carried them out. Guess it worked for them! But I'd say that probably over 75 percent of the answers I get are along the lines of there are ups and downs, but we worked hard and we got through them together.

I like this idea. I like the fact that these couples realize there is a reality to relationships. That it's not always fireworks and rainbows. That a relationship takes work.

My current make-up/break-up is scared about doing long-distance for three years. He's afraid we want different things in life. But perhaps what he doesn't realize is that despite how hard I know it's going to be, I really thought we were solid enough to do the hard work to get through the downtimes. I was willing to get through the downtimes to find the pot of gold--a great relationship.

After giving my patients a bad cancer diagnosis and treatment options with life-altering side effects, they often put on a brave face, crack jokes, and make a decision. But usually, as we walk out of the clinic room together, there is a moment of vulnerability. These big stoic guys reach for their wife's hand, and walk to the future with their partner who has been there through it all.

Happy New Year!

Good afternoon, ladies and welcome to 2010. A new decade, a new year, a new blog.

This blog is born out of my 2010 NYE experience. Last night, I spent New Year's in a dive bar at a small party hosted by one of my interns--a fabulous woman on a quest for love and lust equivalent to Charlotte and Samantha rolled into one. As we downed pitchers of "quality" beer, we caught up on the hits and misses of our love lives.

I recently have been involved in a 2 month long break-up/make-up with a surgery intern I thought was the love of my life. We met last February...and yes, he was a student at the time. More on that one later. He lives in the Mountain time zone, I live in the Central. He will be in the Mountain for another 4 years. I will soon be moving to Eastern. Long distance troubles? That's the easy answer. Everything was perfect between us, until he realized that we were going to be doing long distance...for a looong time while I am in fellowship and he finishes up residency.

You know how this saga begins--man wants woman to quit prestigious fellowship to move in with him and be domestic. Woman agrees to that, but only after fellowship is over.

Last night, one of the (male) general surgery residents asked me why female surgical residents seem so unhappy.

Because gentlemen, why can you have it all and we can't?