Belonging

So today I went to the hospital where I did my internship, and where many of my girlfriends still work. Internship was a great year for me, lots of hard work and sleepless nights, but also one of the best years of my life. After four years of incredible stress (medical school, but also the stress of taking care of my father as he died a slow and painful death during those years), internship was actually a relief. And fun. And, because there were so many fun women in my intern class, as close to being in a sorority as I ever got. And I really haven't been back there much in the nearly 9 years since I finished.



I went today to hear my friend Maria give noon conference. Noon conference is an institution at that hospital. First of all, it is poorly named, since it takes place from 12:30 to 1:30 or later. It is daily, there is food, and all of the housestaff, the interns and residents, attend, as well as some of the attendings. I liked going because one, there was food, two, we got to sit down, and three, it was a chance to catch up and gossip with everyone else. At least where I trained, internship is a lot like high school, but probably with more sex and less acne. So noon conference is ripe with gossip, lustful glances, and note passing (well not really, but you get the picture). Noon conference is like the quad. I had kind of forgotten this. I feel older-- I used to attend conference because I had to, now my friends are giving the lectures.



When I walked in today, it was like walking back in time. I felt like I was right back where I used to be, and for an instant, I caught myself peeking around the corner for the residency director (now deceased) since I was a bit late to conference and didn't want to get caught. I opened the auditorium door and out came a very good-looking male intern (I am sure in my former emergency medicine program-- that is where the best looking guys were). For an instant I was musing about how good looking he was and then realized, "Yikes! I am at least ten years older!!!"



I was late, so I sat in the back and listened. Maria was awesome, as usual, and I learned a great deal about the latest in antiretrovirals. And I watched the rows in front of me, and saw the person I used to be, or at least someone like me. Interns are easily spotted. At least at this hospital. Tired, maybe. But more than that, it is a confidence and maybe slight arrogance that one has finally made it to the other side of the fence; gone are the days of wearing the short white coat (which screams "MEDICAL STUDENT"); now the intern belongs in the hospital for the first time really. No one would miss a medical student, but if the intern is missing for more than a few minutes, everyone knows. The nurses know, as they are endlessly paging the intern on call. The rest of the housestaff know, as they depend on each other. And of course, the attendings know.

But what really struck me today, is that I miss that sense of belonging. Believe me, I love my life now, and wouldn't trade it. But I don't always feel like I fit in the same way as I did in medicine. Back then, I walked into rounds and I never felt like I had to explain who I was, or why I was there. It isn't always that way now. It is hard to be a second wife. I adore my husband and his family, but I am often overwhelmed by their sheer numbers, and it is daunting to know that there is one who came before me with a very long history. I can't count how many times we have run into friends of my husband who mistake me for his ex-wife. Some (ok, maybe only one) of his current friends have been downright hurtful in making me feel like I just don't belong--like I am simply "the current girlfriend". And while I totally understand my stepdaughters' need to secure their place, but the constant "do you remember when" of vacations taken and memories past that pre-date me can grate after a bit. My husband is great about making me feel like I am important and desired, that isn't it. I also have to admit, having my son gave me additional feelings of legitamacy in my world-- not that that was the reason I became a mother, but it was an added bonus.

No, I don't miss working, and I certainly don't miss being a resident. But I do miss that feeling of fitting in.