"How do you keep doing this every day, patient after patient and still keep saying the right thing?" A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Do I demure and say what I'm supposed to say? "Oh, this is all just part of being a doctor! It's such a privilege to be allowed to enter into someone's fears and emotions. Everything is awesome. Just living the dream." Or do I say, "I'm fine. You're fine. We're all fine. Please stop asking questions for which you're not prepared to hear the answer to." Or perhaps the truth, "I'm actually not fine. Thanks for asking. The only thing that's allowing me to make it through the day is that I've formulated an exit strategy, because I can't take this anymore."
Category: Burnout
Drowning in a Bucket of Tears
Mom nodded, eyes glazed over from the bombshell I just threw her way. Taking and squeezing her clammy hand in mine, her attention returned back to the room from reeling into the land of "What if's?". "Mom... it's going to be ok. O's going to be ok. I just need you to get him to the hospital. Can you do that, or do you want me to call 911?" "No... I can do it. It's only 5 minutes away. It'll be faster if I take him now," the determination grew in her voice.
Struggling With Foreboding Joy: It’s a Trap!
"I love my doctor! She's the best." "Aww.. thank you! You're going to set some unrealistic expectations for him from the get-go... see you next time!" Turning to A, my new scribe, I pondered out loud after exiting the room, "I don't know what it is about having you here, but all of a sudden people are coming out of the woodwork saying nice things. It's to fill the awkward silence of having someone new in the room, I think. This is not typical. AT ALL. You can't ever let this stuff get to your head, because it just makes the bad days worse." Watching A nod his head, probably in an effort to patronize me, I couldn't silence the inner monologue. You're just teaching him foreboding joy*, M. Don't pass on your maladaptive coping skills way before his time. Â
So You Wanna Be a Doctor…
"M, what do you think about a scribe? You said you'd be open to that in the past, and I have just the guy for you. He's the son of a friend, and he wants to get more clinical experience before he applies to med school next year." My partner looked expectantly at me, waiting for my response. "What's his background? Pre-med?" "No.. an engineering background. So you'll have to train him, but he's a smart kid and I'm sure he'll pick up quickly!" 3 weeks later and I was shaking said kid's hand in my office manager's office. So earnest, so excited. So... pure. This was a mistake, M.
Burnout Solution 99: Just Be a Yes Doctor
I had been on edge the entire morning. I even caught myself looking around my office in between back to back Follow up mood appointments, trying to figure out how I could slowly pack up all my things without anyone noticing. Because if I was going to have a dramatic exit, nothing would suck the victory out of it more than having to sneak in 5 minutes later to collect my stuff. Maybe one book a day, I settled on. On second thought, I didn't need the books. Or my medical degree and diplomas on the wall, for that matter. I'M OUT.
Career Lifespan of a Millennial Doctor: 10-15 years MAX
Millennial doctors are declaring our career lifespans to be shorter than our predecessors. At first I assumed it was selection bias due to reading all the physician FIRE blogs when starting my burnout journey. But, among my cohort of millennial doctors comprised of Emergency Medicine, Pediatrics and Med/Peds physicians at this unofficial reunion, NONE of us are planning on having a lengthy career in medicine. 4 years of pre-med. 4 years of med school. 3-4 years of residency. All that training for us to then make enough to pay off the 6 figure loans, stockpile our money and GET OUT in just about the same amount of time it took for us to get through training to begin with.
Why is Love So Hard To Take?
What happened? Sitting back in my chair, I studied her. The buoyant, excitable 9 year old I had met when H's family first started coming to see me had been replaced by this sullen teenager in bedazzled Converses who now had the telltale signs of cutting on her non-dominant forearm. "How are you sleeping?" "Fine." "Tell me about the things you're eating." "All junk food." H stuck her chin out defiantly as she declared this, almost as if to say, I dare you to tell me I'm fat.
What is Life When It’s No Longer Defined By Work?
We have allowed work to become this all consuming part of our lives, and not just in medicine. It's too easy to become married to our jobs, forgetting there are people at home who are more deserving of our time and attention. When will I allow myself to say doctoring needs to be just a job and not my life - and when will I actually believe it? What is life when it's no longer defined by work?
Do What I Say, Not What I Do: Adventures in Hypocrisy
Why do I check in on my vacation days? Because these are MY patients. That is MY 18 year old, that is MY 2 month old. I will take care of them as if they are my own family, because we should expect no less from our physicians. And when they suffer, I do too.
When Your Best Isn’t Good Enough: Just Be Better
"I'll see you in 6 months, ok?" I said as I exited the patient room. Flashing a smile, I waved goodbye and turned to see my 4 medical assistants huddled around the closest workstation. All staring at me.  Imagery of hunters circling their felled prey before they delivered the final death blow flashed in my mind. Sympathy intermixed with indecision as to when exactly was the right moment to strike. "What.... ?" I asked, a little disconcerted. After what felt like an eternity, one of them spoke up. "C just called to let us know his wife, R, just died from a stroke. He wanted to thank you for everything, but he doesn't need her appointment now." "Oh. Okay." Silence punctuated with shocked faces by my curt reply. "Are you ok, Dr. M?" Was I OK?