I don’t know when exactly my dream died. Sometime I wonder if it was ever really my dream, or if it indeed *was* my dream, and my questioning it’s validity as a way for me to cope with its untimely death.
Before marching to dermatology I had the audacity to wonder what it would be like to match to a surgical fellowship. As a med student I loved my general surgery rotation, and even thought of applying to surgery. As an MS4, I elected a surgical sub-internship because I thought “I might not get the chance to do this again,” and loved that too.
Right now I’m almost halfway through residency; in just three weeks will be exactly halfway. Despite this, an application to a Mohs Micrographic Surgery fellowship has never felt more distant.
A part of me knew that this may be a consequence when I set out to have children- that giving up the idea of competitive fellowship may be a consequence of starting a family. But then again did I? Did I know that I would easily spend my days, as I spent my entire Sunday, being a full-time housewife (a full-time job, especially with two kids under two) in addition to being a full time doctor?
My Sunday, to further elaborate on this example, started with wiping down the bathroom counter and cleaning the ever-neglected master toilet. When this was finished, came vacuuming the master bedroom and the air purifier to help with my daughters cough. Next was caramelizing no less than a vat of onions for a double batch of chicken curry followed. More importantly, I chased after two children who will have no memory of these days: a son who was unusually fussy. And my daughter, vying for attention but preferring it come from her father than me.
My husband, swamped with immediate pressure of a high-stress deadline, was locked in his work room for about 12 hours straight, pausing only briefly to come out of the room twice to wolf down some leftovers and make coffee – he was on meetings the entire time. And I mean The. Entire. Time.
What was I thinking? …that this would all be much easier?
Nobody has told me I can’t apply to Mohs. Nothing is stopping me from putting together an application. But another, very honest part of myself looks at the happy cacophony that surrounds me, the occasional struggle for survival, and bursts out into a belly laugh at the idea of taking on research and extracurriculars.
YOU?? NOW?? You want to… do more?? Oh honey… please- Residents before you, better than you didn’t. What makes you think you can?? Girl please. Just last week you took off two days unplanned because the kids were sick. You have something like nine days of PTO left that’s supposed to last you 2.5 years! Grow up.
My inner voice can be a mean little b, but she has a point. She speaks truth because she’s afraid of the cost of being wrong- it wouldn’t be embarrassment of going out on a limb and having it not work out, it would be time with my kids in their youngest years. Precious little time, that will never come back.
But why do I still want to try?
Med-Derm, MD 
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