My residency supervisor candidly asked me today – Isn’t stressing out about writing an article on work-life balance kind of missing the point? Well, yeah, that’s why she’s my supervisor. This brings me to one of the lesser advertised tips to avoiding burnout, which is: Get yourself a great mensch. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. The plan was to have 10 perfectly delineated rules, because if it worked for Letterman and Moses, it should work for residency. More to come on that.
Dr. Kristen A. Schmidt
Another part of the plan was to have this article finished by last weekend, but long call was Saturday. This was followed by long call recovery consisting of sleeping in so late my dad texted and left a voicemail asking, what happened? I haven’t heard from you all weekend. Then there was the obligatory run on the treadmill so the gooey cinnamon rolls the nurses baked and generously invited me to on Thursday would not stick around long enough for my husband to wonder if this was the beginning of me letting myself go. Isn’t that a lovely phrase?
Monday was Monday. How does anyone get anything done on Mondays? I had a new team, two new patients to learn and discharge. Plus, it was the first day that cracked 50 degrees in 5 months. I had to meet up with a friend, grab some coffee, and gossip walk around the lake. This was before we found out another friend was being slammed with consults in the emergency room. So there I was right back at the hospital Monday night with a cream cheese cherry pastry to cheer up my compatriot in the struggle.
This brings me to Tuesday. I had planned to be at the editing stage of this article on Tuesday. But didactics ran long due to everyone being so engaged in our formulations lecture, I didn’t have a shot at looking at this thing until lunchtime. Lunchtime came, and as I opened Microsoft Word among my dollar turkey sandwich and mini Purell bottles stationed around me like glorious little sergeants, I heard the gingerly utterings of a medical student: Um, if you have a moment, could you tell me the difference between the side-effect profile of first-generation and second-generation antipsychotics?
An hour later, I was informed that an admit was on the way and was traveling from out of state, set to arrive a half-hour before shift’s end. Did I mention he arrived with two family members in tow who wanted to talk about how things went wrong starting 20 years ago? Then there was the patient to see who I knew would pout if I didn’t spend at least a half-hour checking in. You know, the one the nurses always try to save me from even though I secretly never wanted to be saved.
I finally drove home 2 hours later than anticipated with a smile on my face. I should repeat that, WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE. I felt good because I’d done good. After all, there’s even a little sunlight left. When I walk in the front door, I kiss my husband and then immediately delve into a new story from the day. We laugh. We warm up leftovers, sit on the couch with our bare feet on the table, and catch an hour of American Idol (talent never gets old). Then it’s time to meet this maker.
The strange thing is, the person who began this column with all of her well-intentioned plans feels very different from the person who has made it to the deadline. There is a whole life lived in between. All of the readings I had done, notations I had made, seem kind of beside the point. I could pepper you with statistics and evidence-based outcomes warning of divorce, substance abuse, physician suicide, patient errors, and the like, which are all very real outcomes of poorly balanced lives. But I think we know all of that. It’s the in between space, the living part where so many of us lose our way. So instead of referenced journals, I offer you my journey. Because I can truly say that for the last 3 months of the most difficult year of residency, I have been happy. May this piece be also with you.
Dr. Schmidt, a second-year psychiatry resident at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., is interested in psychodynamic therapy and in pursuing a fellowship in addictions. After obtaining a bachelor of arts at the University of California, Berkeley, she earned a master of arts degree in philosophy and humanities at the University of Chicago. She attended medical school at the University of Illinois College of Medicine at Peoria.