I hated Texas. Corpus Christi was isolated from other cities, and was just so different- the culture, the weather, the people- I was SO homesick. I kept my chin-up best I could, and figured the first step was to try out new churches. I went to one for a few weeks, and met one person. My friend Dorothy who was in her 70s, and invited me over for lunch. She was just what I needed. I was otherwise unimpressed with the church, and people were not friendly at all. I threw myself into shopping at the farmer's market (total bust), trying to find local health food stores (also a bust), finding local meat markets (not too shabby, except for the one mustached man who yelled at me for asking about nitrite free bacon), and drinking the local coffee (at least that part was good)! I used my alone time to get into yoga and start jogging again, so I got a nice tan. Then it was time to start my program.
Oh my program, where to even start! I think I could sum it up as awful. The people in my program were cool, and I enjoyed most of them. I kept myself at a distance though, because I knew almost immediately I would be searching for a new program in pediatrics or psychiatry, or my last resort a different family medicine program just to get away from the place. It was a toxic environment to say the least. The program was actually internal medicine driven, and there were no lectures on actual clinic based family medicine. The clinic consisted of one doctor who was stretched thin trying to teach us, and most of the time I felt in over my head in the clinic. I was so disappointed with the learning. We had an awesome schedule and basically worked maybe 10 weekend during the entire year, but this also meant I wasn't learning. I was frustrated and confused.
The program director, well he is an entirely other conversation. When I interviewed with him, he brought up my husband being a pastor and how he was a christian. He told me how his Baptist church was hiring and how he thought it was the holy spirit telling me to come down. I was excited thinking that he was going to be awesome. Not quite. It started with my very first day of residency not knowing some EKGs the cardiologist quizzed me on, so the cardiologist emailed my director complaining about me and I got called in the next day and interrogated why I got them wrong. I think that sets the stage for what kind of director this guy is. He is the kind of guy who rules by intimidation and fear. He would sit directly in front of you during morning report and rip you apart for your patient care. His behavior confirmed to me that I needed to not give up on finding something better suited for me.
I was desperate. My husband was not having any luck finding a job in Corpus Christi, and I hated my program. In August I found out that my dad's treatment wasn't working, and his cancer was spreading. I decided to have a conversation with my program director about transferring. I knew I would never have time or money to fly back to be with my family, and I felt stuck. I sat down in his office one morning and spilled my guts (which of course included crying like a baby- last thing I wanted to do in front of this jerk.). I told him about my dad and that I needed to be closer to home and felt like I needed to transfer. The conversation can be summed up by him telling me I needed to wait the year out, that no program would have an opening, and that if they did I wouldn't want to go there. He told me MY DAD SHOULD MOVE DOWN TO CORPUS CHRISTI AND THAT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO SOLVE MY PROBLEMS (my 80 year old father with metastatic cancer should move to Texas). He said I would regret transferring and have to explain it the rest of my career. I don't know why I expected him to understand.
So I did what any sane woman does, bake a lot and plot my escape from Texas. I paid money and applied to all of the sites that advertise residency vacancies. I wrote some of the programs I previously applied to, but that of course was a dead end. In my desperation, I wrote my old classmates from medical school and told them my situation and that I was looking for an opening now, and that I knew it would probably never happen but if their programs had openings to let me know. I had family members calling their doctor friends trying to help me find an opening. I waited for a couple of months, and was losing hope that I would find anything. I remember locking myself in my room crying, and Robert breaking in (I'm not much for PDC- public displays of crying) and telling him my dad was possibly dying and I was stuck in Texas for the next 3 years. I. Was. Rockbottom.
The craziest thing then happened. I mean absolutely crazy. I got an email from an old classmate who had happened to have checked her old school email and she saw my email (like 2 months after I sent it). Her pediatric program in Chicago had an opening! I knew it was a long shot, but she gave me the information for her director and I sent my resume. I didn't hear from him for a few weeks, so I had given up that anything would come of it. Then he emailed me! We set up a time to talk. I was nervous, because I suck at interviews especially phone ones. I explained my situation, and we talked for a bit, and I felt like it went pretty well. It then became a whirlwind! Within the week I had interviews with the two other associate directors, and they seemed pretty positive about our future together. Um, crazy crazy! One of my interviews I was in the middle of my workout, and got the call and I was a sweaty mess for the Skype interview...oops.
I don't even remember the timeline of the rest of it, but by the middle of October I had an offer to join their program. (I knew this was a God thing, because they were not advertising the position online and I would never have known if I didn't send those desperate emails.)The part I was dreading was telling my current director. I was on my way out of town for the next week, so I decided I would just call him with the news. I already knew the direction the conversation would go, so I was prepared for his harassment. Our phone conversation consisted of me breaking the news and him threatening me what I did was illegal and he would block me from any program for the next two years. I was proud of myself, because I stood up to him and said in fact I broke no rules and that I tried being professional and talking to him about it two months prior but he didn't want to hear it. He told me "he couldn't believe I was putting my family before the program now." Clearly this guy didn't have a clear grasp of reality. He then tried slandering my name by sending an email to the chiefs lying about our conversation and saying he tried warning me before I ever took the position in Texas that it would be hard to be away from family....right, see above conversation for what the actual conversation entailed.
I was in Texas for the next month to make money, give them time to rearrange the schedule, and to get our rental house rented. It rented in one 1 week, so Robert moved me out in one weekend. I had another 3 weeks to be in Texas, and I didn't know what I would do! Luckily, I had met a really great couple at church and I was a creeper and asked if I could crash at their place. I had no money for a hotel for 3 weeks, so I was SO THANKFUL when they invited me into their home. I enjoyed my last 3 weeks spending time with them, enjoying the rest of the time with my fellow residents, and enjoying the last few days of beach weather.
In December I moved to Chicago. There is so much more tell about the months in Chicago, but it can be summed up that I am at such a supportive program that I can't believe it. My program director asks about my dad. My chief residents arranged for coverage for me when I needed to go away for a couple of days for my dad's surgery. My fellow residents are all awesome and smart, and push me to be a better doctor. My days are busy and often stressful, but I'm clearly right where God wanted me. Shoo-wee, what a year it has been!
