I did the University of Virginia medical specialty aptitude test purely for sport recently and was startled to learn that of 36 medical specialties, the one I am least suited for is family medicine.
I'm not surprised that family medicine did not rank first. I chose it only partially because of any natural inclination toward it, and mostly because the training and practice of it meshed best with other priorities in my life, particularly raising a family. What did take me aback was that it occupied the very last spot on the list.
Pathology and radiology ranked at the top.
From time to time I flirt with the idea of returning to residency, but what it comes down to is that I would rank my current job satisfaction as a family physician at a 9/10. Is a chance at boosting that to a perfect score worth three more years of residency, a massive reorganization of family roles, a significant reduction in my time spent with the kids and a hefty kick in the pocketbook? I don't know.
William Maxwell, fiction editor of the New Yorker from 1936 to 1975, said upon retirement: "For nearly forty years I have shaved with pleasure in the thought that I was about to come to this job." How I love that quote. What a gift, such perfect happiness with one's work.
Of course, while he was shaving his wife Emmy was likely frying up the breakfast bacon, readying their daughters for school, preparing for a day of housework and granting him the enviable ability to be single-minded.
That is what I find most difficult about mixing medicine and motherhood: the diffusion of focus.
My work in refugee medicine is profoundly rewarding; raising three little ones even more so. The two have proven to be compatible. And yet at some point the efforts put into one require sacrifices made of the other. There simply are not enough hours in the day for me to invest what I wish I could into both spheres. I have erred on the side of mothering, and while I do good work at the clinic, my career trajectory has been modest.
I say this cheerfully. So far, I don't regret any decisions I've made. And every day presents an opportunity for new and different choices. Maybe one day, when the kids are a little older, I'll alter my career track or return to residency.
But for now, and maybe forever, a 9/10 is good enough.
(Cross-posted at my personal blog.)