Dear J (Month 20, Monthly Newsletter)

Dear Jason,

Today marks our 20th month anniversary. We are finally in the 20s of the months that we have been together, yay! :)

Something magical happening a few days from now is that you will never have to spend a night at a hospital every again for the entirety of your career. Typing these words out actually makes me a bit emotional because the trauma rotations have been some of the most difficult moments for us…but, also, some of the most beautiful.



Describing to someone what a trauma rotation is like poses a challenge for me. I’m always torn between describing what you have to experience balanced with the responsibilities that fall upon me. Some think that I’m whining or complaining about it even if they have never experienced it themselves. But, the beauty of all of this is that you understand what I’m going through and you acknowledge it. You know that despite the fact that you spend 30 hours roaming the hospital halls, dealing with noncompliant patients, and having a pager going off every 3 minutes…you have a girlfriend at home juggling laundry, homework, work, grocery shopping, building furniture for a new home, and making sure that you have something decent to eat when you get home post call. You have always shown your gratitude in ways that just make my heart melt. For most people, having clean clothes and something good to eat before you enter a nocturnal coma might not seem like much. However, as you have said in your own words, for a resident post call, it’s the best meal and the best sleep you’ll ever have.

(sleeping post call at my friend's house)


It’s ironic the times that you were on trauma. You were on trauma when we initially met, during the time that we bought our condo together over a year ago, and, currently, as I just entered school and work. When we first met, I wasn’t really aware of your exhaustion because we were still getting to know each other. As soon as we bought our place together, the trauma rotation reared its ugly head. It started with me not being able to sleep on the nights that you weren’t home. Then, it morphed into something else…something a lot more challenging than just insomnia.



There were many nights where I laid awake in bed alone, worried for your health and safety by all of the stress that trauma entails. I would sit in our new home and wonder whether I could go through all of this, considering it was a new relationship. I found myself annoyed by the comments of random people who attempted to assure me, “don’t worry, it’s worth it in the end when he’s making the big bucks” because this had absolutely nothing to do with money. There were a few times where I thought of the future, of possible children even, and despised the thought of being a doctor’s wife. I really wanted no part of it if lonely, sleepless nights where what it entailed for the both of us. I felt horrible feeling this way knowing that you were feeling horrific yourself. This is how I felt at the very beginning, usually when you weren’t home…



…but, then you would come home...and everything would instantly change. :)



I wish I had proper words to describe the sigh, made up of half relief and half excitement, that comes when you walk through the door post call. It’s appropriate that you come home when the sun is shining because that’s really the best description for it. You walk in the door and the smile on your face is my shining grace.



I’m so glad that we communicate very well. I have been told by many that it is something that many couples tend to stop doing when things get difficult. The silence enters the room and it seems to infect everything in the relationship. It’s quite the opposite in our home--we’ve had many intense discussions when you’ve been on trauma. At first, I was embarrassed and ashamed to bring up the fact that I was having a tough time dealing with your rediculously long work week. But, I still shared my thoughts and I’m so glad that I did…because you are just amazing in putting me at ease and assuring me that I was entitled to my emotions.




The result of these discussions were that we improvised the best way that we could--we would have dinner at the hospital as often as we could to break up the entire 30 hour process of not seeing each other.



A few weeks ago, I met you at the hospital with some Subway sandwiches while you were on call…and we sat with one of the interns who just moved here from a different state and is doing the trauma rotation with you. A few days later, we met up for dinner again…and the same intern was working with you. You told me later on that he took you aside and told you that you were a lucky guy that someone cared that much about you. (You told me that he also added that he wished his girlfriend did the same thing.) I just sat there and smirked because our dinners probably make no sense to others, but they just make sense to us.




I know I will never know the feeling of what it is like to be responsible for someone’s life or having to deal with death and severe injury on a continual basis…but I’d like to believe that is why you date me. I have seen glimpses with my career in the emergency room and various floors of the hospital, enough to realize simple little facts like Subway sandwiches tasting like a gourmet meal when you haven’t eaten in an entire day… I’m just glad that we did everything the way that we did. I’m so proud of you, babe…and I’m so blessed to have you in my life.

Love,

Me