Bipolar Roller Coaster

Today I took strange solace in a Katy Perry song--as odd as that might seem.  Apparently, Ms Perry dated someone just like me soon-too-be-ex-husband.  This song described him so well that I had to share it.

You change your mind 
like a girl changes clothes 
yeah you PMS 
like a bitch I would know 
and you overthink 

always speak 

Cryptically 
I should know that you're not good for me 

(chorus)

cause you're hot then you're cold 
you're yes then you're no 
you're in then you're out 
you're up and you're down 
you're wrong when it's right 
it's black and it's white 
we fight we break up 
we kiss we make up 

(you) you don't really want to stay (no) 
(but you) but you don't really want to go (oh) 
hot and you're cold 
you're yes then you're no 
you're in then you're out 
you're up and you're down 

we used to be 
just like twins 
so in sync 
the same energy 
now's a dead 
battery 
used to laugh 
'bout nothing 
now you're plain 
boring 
I should know 
that you're not 
gonna change 

(chorus)

someone 
call the doctor 
got a case of the 
love bi-polar 
stuck on a 
roller coaster 
can't get off 
this ride 

I forgot to look

I came home from work tonight, took the dog out, and then proceeded to go back out to run some errands. With my cellphone to my ear and my sister on the other end, I was walking toward the garage when I saw the cutest little westie puppy at the other end of the block. I looked at the puppy, who looked just like my little Shoon-Zhu when he was a baby, and almost as soon as I had established eye contact, the puppy ran down the sidewalk to me, his owner running behind him.

I was in a hurry, but thought I would catch the puppy to give his owner time to catch up and grab the leash. Then, I greeted the puppy, handed over the leash, and proceeded to walk toward my car.

I opened my door, put my things inside, and turned around to see the puppy looking at me. Again, he ran towards me, this time, across the street. Again I caught the puppy, and again waited for the owner, then handed over the leash.

As I got in the car, I explained what was going on, to which she instantly replied, “Is he cute?” At first I thought, “the puppy?” but then I realized she meant the owner. As a matter of fact, he was, in fact, fairly attractive. Not “out of my league” attractive, but certainly someone I wouldn’t mind looking at.

Now it’s only been two weeks, so I am not exactly anxious to get out on the dating scene, but my sister’s question made me realize that I don’t even look anymore. I’ve almost forgotten how to look. I’ve apparently been off the market just long enough that I have lost that instinct that makes you want to “check out” an attractive person. Something tells me there is a copy of Dating for Dummies in my future.

Starting Over

Step One: find a new place to live. Yeah, I could stay in the place where I am now, but if it just me and the doggy, who needs that big apartment? Plus, finding a smaller place will give me more money for having fun. Must recapture some semblance of a social life.

Step Two: Go back to doing things I find interesting. I used to like volunteering a lot, but haven’t done that for years. Now is the time to get back to it. The last volunteer gig I did was with a group that taught computer classes to the poor. I really liked that, but don’t know if I want to have to travel downtown...will have to think about that one.

Step Three: Focus on improving self. I’d recently begun a campaign to improve my health. A while ago I had lost a bunch of weight, but then after my mom died gained a little of it back. I recently started following a healthier eating plan and tried to increase my physical activity to get back to a healthier path. It would be too easy to wallow in self-pity and neglect health. Not only do I need to be resolved to not do that, but I need to commit myself to be more committed. He’s not worth my health.

Okay, that’s as far as I have gotten. It’s only been 10 days, so the wounds are still a little fresh, and right now, any longer of a list would be too overwhelming.

Wow, I didn’t see that coming!

Lately I had been thinking that it would be interesting to chronicle my experiences as the wife of a medical resident here on this blog (since finding things to talk about hasn't been easy). That isn’t going to work now.

Remember when I said that we didn’t have a plan for what we would do if he got a residency in the NY area? Well, I have to make a correction -- I didn’t have a plan. Ping, on the other hand, had a plan. On Saturday, March 28, he announced that he was going to NY by himself. He said that he wasn’t happy, and decided that he would be happier by himself, unmarried. Was I really just dumped for a residency?

Everyone says I should be relieved. For over a year now, things have been more than a bit difficult, and I suppose the writing has been on the wall for a while. One year and 20 days prior to his announcement, my husband suffered what you might call a nervous breakdown. In an example of the stereotypically Asian “pressure to be perfect” gone terribly awry, my husband was beating himself up because he wasn’t applying for the 2008 Match. He obsessed about it so much that he drove himself mad -- to the point that he had to be hospitalized. It was then that I truly lost my husband. Over the past year, I tried to be supportive as I watched him become this depressed, self-centered, self-involved, uncaring person. He was obsessed with trying to be perfect, and blamed any sign of imperfection on outward sources. If he was unhappy he would either blame others, or pick fights (mostly with me) in order to make himself feel better. I hoped, desperately, that he would eventually “get better” and return to that loving person I once knew, but it just didn’t happen. He wasn’t willing to get the help he needed, and as a result, couldn’t truly begin to heal.

I put up with the tough times because I love him and didn’t want to leave him because of his behavior (which I attributed to his illness). I kept his secret because I didn’t want to cause him more pain, and thought that once he got better, we would be able to move past this. But now, things are different. I think I owe it to myself to be honest about what I’ve been dealing with.

And, of course, now I need to find a new direction for this blog. A while ago I noticed that every time someone asked what was new with me, I would talk about Ping and his residency applications. I think I need to find some new things to talk about.

So few words...so much drama

Subject: Where did I match?

Message: Congratulations, you matched to Mountainside Hospital in Montclair, NJ

Did you ever have an interview where, after you left, you were sure that the person interviewing you was completely unimpressed? That is the experience my husband, Ping, had when he left this particular interview. He tells me it’s an excellent hospital, but he was so certain that they would not want him that he didn’t imagine it was a possibility. Well, apparently he was wrong.

Ideally, this hospital would have been located in Maryland, or Virginia, or the District of Columbia...but no, it’s in northern New Jersey.

That’s where the drama comes in. We like our life here. I LOVE my job here. But the problem is, you cannot commute to NY from DC, so someone has to move.

It doesn’t help things that the economy is tanking and jobless rates are reaching new heights. Residents make no money, so if you were thinking, “Hey, he’s a doctor, why don’t you just move without a job,” you can forget that. Someone suggested that I should stay back while he goes to NY, and we could see each other on the weekends. The problem with this plan, however, is that residents only get four full days off each month, and they aren’t necessarily on the weekend. If we took this route, I’d probably go months without seeing him.

So, I’ve begun looking for jobs. I am hoping to find something very close to what I do now, just in a different place. Maybe I’m being too optimistic, but a girl can dream, right?

One day and counting

While I’m relieved that Ping has matched somewhere, I’m still sort of nervous about where it might be. He’s applied to programs here in DC, in Baltimore, and in and around NY. If it’s in DC that’s fine. If it’s in Baltimore, he says he wants to commute, though if that doesn’t work out we may need to move somewhere half way between DC and Baltimore. However, we have no plan if he gets placed in NY. I guess I am going to need to find a new job...but I really like my current one, so I’m not exactly looking forward to that.

Of course, I haven’t had much time to think about that this week. Today the results of a major study on prostate cancer screening were released, and since reporters get the info under embargo a few days before the info goes public, I have been a very busy girl. We had a press conference via telephone yesterday, and I handled the logistics for that. Plus, there have been a ton of media interviews to set up. But now that’s over, and I can relax a bit.

And so, we wait...

It’s a torturous process -- the medical communities own form of hell week. I am talking about the National Resident Match Program, more commonly known as “the Match.” The Match is the process by which medical students, and foreign trained doctors who have gone through the certification process, are placed with hospitals to complete their residencies and become full-fledged doctors. In the Match, everyone sends applications, through a centralized system, to as many hospitals as they can afford (at $25 a pop). Then, the match-ees wait for interview invitations. Students and International Medical Graduates (IMG’s) compare notes on how many interviews each have received, and who received interviews from the most prestigious programs. It’s a sick sort of competition, where your pleasure is derived from the pain of your colleagues with fewer invitations.

Once the interviews are over, everyone submits their “rank list” -- the list of programs where you interviewed, in the order of preference for where you want to go. Hospitals submit similar lists, with the students and IMGs they are willing to admit to their program. Then, a large computer in an undisclosed location takes all the lists, runs them through complex algorithms, and determines everyone’s fate.

A month later, on the Monday before the third Thursday of March, everyone learns of their fate -- sort of. For students, those who are left alone can, by the end of the day, rest assured that they have been placed in a hospital. Students who get called into Dean’s office, however, are about to receive the devastating news that they did not make the cut. I’ve been told that a favorite prank in some schools involves students paging their fellow students, entering the number of the Dean’s office, so that the student will think they are being summoned for bad news.

For IMG’s, the group to which my husband belongs, the news comes in the form of an email. Ping's email looked something like this.

Subject: Did I match?

Message: Congratulations, you matched!

That was it. Hopefully those who didn’t match received something a little more consoling than “nope” in the body of the message.

Still, neither the students nor the IMGs know where they matched. That fun is reserved until Thursday. Apparently 3 more days of anxiety are necessary for the medical education process. But they can rest assured that at least they matched, as the watch their friends participate in something called, the Scramble.

Simply put, the Scramble is the last chance to get a placement. Those who didn’t match are provided a secret list of programs which, for one reason or another, still have space available. Tuesday and Wednesday are spent sending emails and faxes, and making phone calls begging for a chance to join these open programs. These scramblers, as well as the folks who learned they matched today, will get their results on Thursday.

And so, we wait...