Doctorly Stuff

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Unintentionally Offensive

This weekend, I had the chance to catch up with a college friend I haven’t spoken to in months. Let’s call her Alice.

Alice is in her final year of an anesthesiology residency. She has been out of medical school two years longer than my husband.  (Anesthesia residents do a prelim year of residency in an internal medicine program, then three years of anesthesia residency.) (And she will only have a one-year fellowship… so basically I am already jealous of her husband.)

During our conversation, Alice brought up one of the tricky little things that come with being a doctor: People forgetting her title.

Here’s the situation.

Alice was invited to the wedding of a childhood friend – a guy she’s known forEVER. She’s known her friend’s fiancée for several years as well, although they don’t get together very often. But the couple definitely knows that Alice is an anesthesia resident.

Anyway, when Alice received the formal wedding invitation in the mail, she noticed that it was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. John Smith.

Now, I don’t want to give you the idea that Alice was in a rage about this or anything… I think she was a little irked, but that was all.

But I probably would have been irked, too! I mean, she went through four years of medical school and is 75% done with her residency. She’s certainly earned the M.D. after her name… So I think she’s earned the right to be called Dr. Smith.

Alice’s husband thought it was just plain rude. He actually thinks that it was the bride’s little passive aggressive way of “sticking it to” Alice. (I don’t know the back story on that – sounds juicy!) But my guess is that the bride and groom had no idea they were offending Alice. I bet the mistake was due to one of three things:

  1. They didn’t know if she goes by “Dr. Smith” yet, since she’s still in training
  2. They were unaware of the proper protocol of addressing an invitation when the woman is the one with the title
  3. They didn’t even think about titles when addressing their invitations

Since my father is a physician, I’ve always been conscious of titles. Otherwise, I’m not sure I would even think twice about it. (Is this something that YOU think of/thought of when addressing letters or invitations?)  The other thing is, I don’t know if it’s common knowledge that once you’ve graduated medical school, you are a doctor. Well, you are. Even if you can’t practice, you’re officially Dr. Soandso.

Anyway, the proper protocol is to always include a title on a formal invitation. According to Emily Post, Alice’s friends should have addressed the invitation as follows:

–          Dr. Alice Smith and Mr. John Smith

–          Dr. Alice and Mr. John Smith

Or, if Alice had kept her maiden name:

–          Dr. Alice Jones and Mr. John Smith

Or, if Alice and her husband were both physicians:

–          The Doctors Smith

–          Drs. John and Alice Smith

–          Dr. Alice Smith and Dr. John Smith

–          Dr. Alice Jones and Dr. John Smith

As I mentioned, Alice’s husband was more miffed than Alice was about the lack of title. (He’s awfully proud of his wife and her accomplishments.) So on the response card, he wrote in “Dr. Alice Smith and Mr. John Smith” in the space provided before “will be attending.”

I got a good giggle out of that. Passive aggressiveness FTW!

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Thursday Randomosity – End of Intern Year (!!!!!) Edition

Oh lordy Internet, it has been A WEEK.

A week of such epic CRAP proportions that it has not even fully sunk in that my husband is DONE.

DONE with intern year.

So. That is awesome.

Excuse me while I take a nap. When I wake up, I will no doubt be elated on a proper level.

In the meantime, some randomosity.

* Do you ever stand in front of your bathroom mirror and look suspiciously at the little mound of flesh below your belly button and wonder if maybe, just maybe, you could be pregnant and not know about it? No? That’s just me? Then I beseech you to never watch “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” on TLC. Because if so many women actually didn’t NOTICE they had a human growing inside them, then I suppose it’s Always Possible.

* Speaking of pregnancy… The vast majority of my new friends are mommies or mommies-to-be. Which is super! I love mommies! They are Normal People too. But hanging out with them has had two contradictory results.

1. I find myself wishing I could be pregnant for the sole reason of not wanting to suck in the afore-mentioned tummy-pooch anymore. (Yes, I know, SIT UPS.)

2. I find myself never ever ever in a million years ever wanting kids. Because while the mommy bloggers whose blogs I frequent write about the horrors of motherhood, they temper those stories with sweet and tear-jerking tales of looooove and cuteness and special moments. Not the moms I hang out with. I think they honestly just need to get out and vent a little… but the effect is that I hear about Bewb Deflation and Diaper Blowouts and No More Sexy Time with the Husband. And it’s enough for me to say, nope, not for me.

* I am not pregnant. That is just a taco (or seven) happily expanding in my gut.

* So. Work? Is busy.

* Did anyone watch Danielle “Prosititution Whore” Newjerseyhousewife on the Bravo Live Watch What Happens special the other night? What WAS that?

* Did I mention that my husband is officially No Longer an Intern? That means he’s an upper level resident! And it also means no more overnight call! Except in certain situations, which I am not entirely clear about! (I swear, the hospitals make all these super crazy confusing schedules just to eff with me. ME.) Oh and also when he’s on a Night Float rotation, which is when he will be away from me all night every night for two weeks straight. Twice. Why was I so excited about second year again?

* The other night, when my husband was at the hospital, we were out of food (okay, we were out of planned meals, I should say) and I noticed that we had some crab cakes in the freezer. So I thought to myself, wouldn’t crab cake pasta be delicious? And I had visions of dining on al-dente pasta with tender lumps of crab, all drizzled in a lovely white-wine-garlic-and-lemon sauce.

Guess what? Crab cakes do not equal crab. They had lots of bread in them and they soaked up all the liquid really fast and refused to get crispy, so I had this lumpy, soggy, breadness all mixed in with my overcooked leftover penne. It was disgusting. Like a cross between Thanksgiving stuffing that someone ralphed up on your plate and a fish-flavored bread pudding with pasta garnish.

Worst of all? Eating the crab cakes by themselves never even crossed my mind.

* Husband and I (FINALLY) went to the grocery store. As I am always dressed in my finest clothes, I was wearing jeans, flip flops, and a sweatshirt with my alma mater plastered across the front. We were waiting in line at the deli, and an oldish man approached us. Then he asked MY HUSBAND if he went to my college. (My husband was wearing nothing with our school logo on it.)

That’s weird, right?

I mean, I am going to pretend that this guy is from a long-ago age where men weren’t allowed to approach strange women out of the blue and talk to them.

But come on. Even if you come from the Olden Days, you should know that this is 2010. Women go to college. And while they may wear their husbands’ sweatshirts on occasion, that doesn’t mean you should assume they are.

* My husband – who, I don’t know if I mentioned it, is not an intern anymore HALLELUJAH! – has a week off before he starts as a second year resident. His parents are coming to visit us. And I am feeling all whiny and annoyed about it. Because usually, when they come to visit, I am working. They – clearly, not working – all go do fun stuff and eat at fun restaurants and I have to carry on with  my normal routine PLUS the stress of getting dressed and going out and staying up late. I end up feeling anxious about getting all my work done on time so I have time to spend with the in-laws (which I enjoy – they are lovely people)… and feeling left out when they do things without me. Yes, yes, poor me…Please join me at my pity party.

* And finally, I am a shorts convert! The long shorts from J. Crew were really cute! Even my husband loved them! He said they were – get this – FLATTERING. Shorts haven’t been flattering on me since I was a 98-pound, 17-year-old cheerleader.

So I am currently resisting the urge to buy eight pairs of these shorts. I mean, you can never have too many pairs of shorts, right? (Wonders the girl who hasn’t owned any kind of non-athletic shorts since 1999.)

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Only comments from you can lift me from my pit of pity-party despair! Do say hello won’t you?

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Friday Randomosity

Let’s jump right in!

* We’re in the home stretch of my husband’s last ever rotation as a medical intern! Can I get a “what what”?! The first two weeks of this rotation were amazing. He was home at about 2:00 or 3:00 every afternoon. The days he was on call, he was at the hospital until 7:30 or so. We got to spend TONS of time together. Delightful! But (you knew this was coming, right?) his last week is not going so well. He’s been at the hospital until 5:30 or 6:00 – which is not particularly late, but makes him frustrated because he got so used to those cushy 2:00 days. And his call nights are much more intense. The other day, I went to pick him up at 10:30… And I ended up staying in the waiting room until MIDNIGHT.

* Why did I have to pick him up? Well, my car battery is dead. This is the third battery that’s died in my little CRV since I bought it in 2003. What the eff is up, dudes? Since I had a doctor’s appointment the day my husband was on call, I drove him to work. Then I had to go pick him up. He was so busy, he couldn’t call and tell me not to arrive at our pre-designated time. Did I forget to bring a book? Yes, I did. So I ended up erasing all the text messages I’ve ever received or sent from my phone, labeling all the photos I’ve ever taken with my phone, and reading some delightful pamphlets about the warning signs of suicide. SUPER.

* Once we got home, we had to push my poor dead car into our garage because our complex is sealing the parking lot this week. It was a harrowing experience. Because when your battery is dead? Your power steering doesn’t work and your brakes are not as responsive as normal. Thank you to my sweet husband for pushing me!

* It really was a day of waiting. My doctor’s appointment took TWO HOURS. Listen, I am very patient when it comes to waiting at the doctor’s office. I know exactly how busy the docs are. I know that patients come in with multiple, complicated complaints when they’ve got only a slot for a checkup. I know that emergencies happen. I know that patients arrive late. I KNOW all this. But two hours? For a five minute appointment? Not fun. Did I forget to bring a book to my appointment? Yes, I did. But I did get to watch the woman ahead of me (and after eight other people) freak out about the endless waiting. I thought her head was about to explode.

* Then, after my five minute appointment, I went to check out. The receptionist spent – I kid you not – THIRTY MINUTES trying to figure out why I wasn’t listed as having insurance. It was a little anxiety-producing, y’all. She tried my name, my husband’s name, my social security number, my husband’s social security number… She called the insurance company directly. Nada. Turns out she was NOT looking for our actual insurance… she was seeking out some kind of prescription coverage that we don’t even have. And if she had looked at my chart from the previous visit, she would have seen we didn’t have it.

Of course, instead of being irritated at her or just saying nothing, I started apologizing profusely for wasting her time. Which makes me annoyed with myself. I obviously didn’t have to be mean – she was trying to save me money, after all – but I didn’t have to turn into some groveling repentant either. I’m freaking 29 years old. When am I going to feel okay standing up for myself?

* It has been a very social week for me, y’all! Husband dragged me to a resident picnic last Friday where I had lots of wine and much fun. Except for the part where a bunch of residents decided it was a good idea to have a water balloon fight… and to take cover in the picnic area. This did not save anyone from getting wet. But it did shower a lot of bystanders. Then I had a wedding shower on Sunday, a triple date (with my husband and two adorable couples) Sunday night, a girls’ night on Tuesday, and tonight is another girls’ night with one of the other interns’ wives.

Having friends is exhausting!

* I bought a pair of longish shorts (to the knees) from J. Crew.com. They are sitting in my bedroom because I have always been strictly Anti-Shorts, and I don’t know if I’m ready to try them on. And yes, I admit, I am nervous about what my husband will say when I don these long shorts. He’s pretty Anti-Shorts as well, and I think he will haaaaaate these. Why did I buy them again?

* I also realized that I hate all my shirts. Going out 85 times in one week has sort of depleted my store of two acceptable going out shirts. My habit of ordering things online (for sale – whoo! – and only if I get free shipping) is not working… I end up returning 85 percent of what I buy. (By the way, the people at Ann Taylor Loft do NOT like it when you return things. I get a lot of annoyed looks and snarky comments about “that’s what happens when you buy stuff online.” Yes, I KNOW. But I still prefer it to coming into your store. Plus, the whole reason I bought anything online in the first place is the 40% coupon you emailed me… to use ONLINE.)

* Has anyone else been watching the Real Housewives of New York City reunion special? It is total crazy town! And by “it” I mean Kelley. Also – I am now in love with the new show Bethenny Getting Married. Bethenny is so straightforward and her wit is so ascerbic… I love it! And – as long as we’re talking TV – I’m glad that Kathy Griffin’s Life on the D List is back on. Yay for Bravo! Without it, I might actually leave the house once in a while.

* Between all the socializing and my husband’s late nights, we have not only not seen each other for more than about 10 minutes a night, we have also not been to the grocery store in ages. Yesterday I had an apple and some old salami for lunch, and some mushrooms on top of old pasta for dinner. Yep, I’m a real galloping gourmet over here.

If I don’t want to starve today, I’m going to have to get creative with the very last vestiges of edible material in our apartment: Another apple, some Cheetos, a couple of corn tortillas, some limp celery, four bottles of super cheap wine (two were $3.99 at the grocery store, y’all. How could I NOT buy them?) and a couple of very old limes.

You know if this were a Top Chef challenge, I’d have twelve different delicious little meals out of those ingredients. Unfortunately, my only brainstorm is to eat them all, one at a time, and hope my stomach doesn’t implode.

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Well Internet, I hope you have a wonderful weekend! Any special Father’s Day plans on the agenda?