Failing to be a medicine mom

A glimpse into the life of my esteemed colleague -
It echoes eerily in all our respective lives in our unique and personal ways.
Feeling like a failure in parts of our lives we truly care about... yet helpless and trapped.

--------------------------
The Vancouver Sun
Wednesday July 4, 2007

It's official. After surviving 10 years as a professional ballet dancer, a Stanford University degree, a baby and almost three years of medical school, I'm giving up on my dream of practising medicine.

The bizarre thing is that I'm nearing the end of my third year of my medical program -- the end of the hard part, as people call it. Only two months to go in the gruelling "clerkship" marathon. Only five months to go before baby number two is scheduled to arrive. And I've just about had it.

This year, we rotate through every major specialty -- surgery, pediatrics, internal medicine, obstetrics, psychiatry, emergency -- the year seems never-ending. The stress of being evaluated over and over again by different preceptors, sometimes on a daily basis, is even more exhausting than the 30-hour call days.

But that's not my biggest problem. My biggest problem is that I'm trying to balance this immense task with another, equally immense one: Raising a family. And I'm fast realizing that for the first time in my life, I can't have it all.

As the rest of my class loses sleep over which residencies to apply for, I'm searching Amazon for Alternative Careers in the Medical Sciences. And while I bow out freely -- with only a slight pang of regret -- I still wonder why a profession that's starving for mature, caring and capable individuals, makes itso hard for mothers to survive.

I've just finished a two-week elective in radiology, one of the "lifestyle specialties." Apparently, once you make it, you can schedule your days to suit the rest of your life. But making it means a five-year residency, after the four-year medical degree that followed the four-year undergraduate degree. And this prospect -- of spending up to five more years in medical boot camp while my children grow up around me -- is a pill I simply can't swallow.

And it seems that residencies are all we can talk about this year. There's a question that is causing a widespread epidemic of anxiety within our class and it follows us everywhere: "Is this an area of medicine that you would consider going into?"

It sounds simple, but for me it is not. The truth is that I don't see a residency -- any residency -- as a feasible option. I've spent the past two years hanging on to medicine for dear life, while trying desperately to make my role as part-time mother a meaningful one.

I've seen the aquarium, the Planetarium and Granville Island Market on two hours of sleep. I've searched hospital gift shops for any toy with wheels, so that I might be forgiven by a two-year-old when I get home.

But now, with another baby on the way, I have so many balls in the air that I might have better luck auditioning for Cirque du Soleil than completing a medical residency.

I've been trying all year to read a single, non-required, book. So far, I'm on Chapter 2 of Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures. It tells the story of going through medical school and entering the world of medical practice. So far, I don't recognize anything from my own experiences over the past three years.

I don't think anyone's written the book about what it's like to be a mother in medical school. I bet that book hasn't been written yet because anyone who's been through it is so completely pooped by the end of the day that they couldn't pick up a pen even if she had the inspiration to write.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I started medical school at an age that coincided with the vigorous buzzing of my biological alarm clock.

In one way, that's been great. My life before medicine has given me experiences that help me truly empathize with the patients. Being a mother has made me a natural caregiver. And for me, these have been the best parts of the medical school experience.

If I could do a part-time residency, I might even be back on board. But in this profession, you're expected to endure the same amount of hardship as the generations of doctors that came before you.

I'm pretty tough. But the guilt you feel as a mother when you're gone for entire days at a time, when you hear that your child sobbed "Mommy's coming home," unable to sleep at 3 a.m., well, it's not worth the most prestigious job on Earth.

For the first time in my life, I've felt bitter towards my work. I would make a good doctor, but I simply can't survive in a system that routinely makes me miss bathtimes and bedtimes and early morning cuddles.

On the blessed days when I get home by 5 p.m., I don't skip a beat between worktime and mommy-duty. I frantically try to make those precious hours before bedtime as full and intimate as possible. The day ends only when the exhausted, well-fed and bathed little feet are finally under a quilt for the night. Then I try to keep my own eyes open for 15 minutes of "quality time" with my husband before falling asleep, mid-sentence, on his shoulder.

In this regime, dental appointments are postponed indefinitely. I admit it --most nights I don't even floss. Studying happens over rushed lunches in the cafeteria and during weekend naptimes (after lunch is made.) There's no time for friends. There's no time to watch the news or read a paper. There's no time for me.

So I'm opting out of a career in medicine. I wouldn't survive another year of one-in-four call, especially with two little ones at home. I'll finish this degree because I've never left anything unfinished before.

But I'm tired of being a compromised mother and a compromised medical student. I want to be first-rate at the things I do. I hope I'll find something that lets me be just that.