Resident Widows

Not too long ago, someone asked me if the term "resident widow," referring to the status of a spouse of a resident, was a term I came up with.  I didn't really think it was, and a quick Google search confirmed this.  (See here; at least one other person in the world has used it).  
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That more people haven't used it surprises me a little.  I in no way mean to be dismissive of true widows but mainly use the term to communicate how lonely being the other half can be.  This isn't just an issue for those of us who are in medical marriages, but also for those involved in long-term monogamy with someone in the military, for instance. I'm sure, to an extent, that the same is true for those involved with someone in graduate study (say, law school or a PhD program).  

Notice that I said "to an extent." While those other experiences are certainly high-stress and immersive, they still can't hold a candle to residency's peculiarity and stress.  After all, my all-nighters in graduate school involved reading books or sitting around with other graduate students faking journal entries for a literature course (bring as many different pens as you have! We have to make this look real!).  They didn't involve robotic surgery and chest compressions while someone else was delivering a baby by c-section. Heck, even when high stakes were involved, I joked that Comprehensive Written Exams were a bit silly; after all no one would ever shout out on a plane asking if there was an expert on Hawthorne who could help in a literary emergency.  In the years since I've had my PhD I've flown a lot--and it has yet to happen.


{Perhaps this is why I don't go ballistic when a student doesn't call me "Dr."  I do prefer Ms. to Mrs. mainly because my marital status doesn't define my ability to do my job, but that's a different rant for my virtual office blog.}


Back to resident widowhood as a concept: It's not a perfect analogy, thankfully.  But there are times, night float months, for instance, or during an away rotation, where you won't see your doctor spouse.  While regular day shifts are bad, these times are worse.  And in some programs, a doctor might be physically away for months out of a specific year.  This year, for instance, D will be in another state for two weeks.  Three months are going to be spent in Topeka later in the spring, and we are only six days away from her second month of night float for the year.  Night float this year means a 24 hour shift every Sunday, then 12+ hour shifts Monday-Thursday nights.  Sure, she'll have Friday and Saturday off, but that means sleeping. So, if you add all that up, you get 5.5 months of Zombie.


I just hung a sign on our door this weekend that says "no unexpected or uninvited callers." I just can't take the guy D started having cut the grass banging on our door all the time.