That's a Match

Monday, March 26, 2018








It was not what I was expecting.


It was my sixth choice program.








Rebirth: Healing from a C-Section

Wednesday, February 14, 2018









State of the Med Student: The Road to Residency Edition

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash


Size of the Program


Call Schedule and Nights


Resident Education and Teaching


Research Opportunities


Fellowship Success


Resident Wellness












Coffee Date: December 2017

Thursday, December 28, 2017

Hi, hello, it's me, your favorite wayward blogger who shows up here every few months to randomly babble into the void in the hopes that the three people who read this thing enjoy it. I would love to tell you that I've been off doing all kinds of exciting things, but in reality, I've just been plugging along on my rotations, keeping a tiny human alive, and generally trying to keep my life from collapsing into a shambles.

So far, so good.

I can't believe that I can even call myself a blogger and that I haven't done one of these coffee date posts ever in the history of my blog. So, meet me at the nearest Starbucks, because yes, I actually do love their coffee, grab a beverage, and settle in. If we were out for coffee, I would tell you...

.... that I had actually thought about not blogging ever again, because I hadn't blogged in so long and I felt like I didn't have anything useful to say. Then, one of my favorite bloggers, Nicole of Just the Elevator Pitch, updated her blog after a long time, and I said to myself, "Self, if Nicole can do it, you can totally do it!" So here I am. But I'm glad I took a break to have coffee with you, of course.

... that my life has been mainly consumed by residency interviews, thinking about residency, and freaking out about THE MATCH. THE MATCH (yes, it necessitates all caps), for the uninitiated, is how applicants get matched to residency positions. Basically, the applicant makes a rank list, the programs make a rank list, it all goes into a giant computer algorithm, you pray to all the gods that it works, and a match gets spit out at the end. Then on March 16th, everyone who matched gets an envelope and everyone finds out where they're going. (The unmatched people scramble for positions, but I'm not even entertaining the thought of that happening because if I do, my brain will melt and I'll spend the next 78 days until Match Day huddled in a ball under my kitchen table. I have very healthy coping mechanisms.) The uncertainty of this part of my life is going to be the death of me, I swear.

... that thanks to winter break, I have no idea what day it is or how time even works anymore. I'm so thankful to have this time off because it's probably the last time I'll ever have 2 weeks off for... a long time. Last week, I went back to sleep every morning after getting Ken and Aviva off to school at 6:15 and it was glorious. I can't even remember what I did, other than rest, which I'm pretty okay with. This past week has been nuts since Saturday because we had family visiting and then we were traveling to NY for Christmas, so I am really glad to be home for the last few days of my break. Even though I have an interview tomorrow, I have a low key weekend planned (or not planned, rather), so hopefully by the time my feet hit the floor on Monday morning, I'm ready to go back to rotations.

... that this year, I totally ignored most of the "holiday traditions" I usually try to accomplish. I didn't decorate indoors, I didn't bake cookies, I didn't send photo cards, even though we had photos taken. Ooh, do you want to see them? I thought you might.

I'm pretty obsessed with them. But anyway, yeah. I totally shirked my holiday responsibilities and I'm not gonna lie, it felt pretty great. On one hand, I was really bummed that I didn't get my Hanukkah lights and decor up, and I missed making gingerbread, but on the other hand, it was great to do... nothing. Being an adult is weird.

... that Aviva is getting so big and I am constantly looking forward to the next milestone but also wishing she were still a squishy potato. She's pretty amazing, and I'm always ready to talk about her. In fact, I could spend the rest of this coffee date talking about her, but I won't, because that would probably be boring for you. She's 18 months old now, and she is really embracing her toddlerhood. That makes it sound like she's a hard kid, but she really isn't. She likes to push our buttons and see where the limits are, but she is so sweet and funny. She makes me laugh every day, and I am so excited to see her grow into her own little person. She is saying things now! I was so concerned that her speech would be delayed because her hearing was off due to fluid in her ears for awhile, but since she got her ear tubes, things seemed to pick up. She makes a ton of animal sounds (my favorite is for "What does a fish say?" and she responds by puckering and smacking her lips), can ask for "more" without using sign language now, and says "stuck" when she can't figure out how to do something (or when something is actually stuck, like her arm in a sleeve, or a toy). Her receptive speech is fantastic, and she understands so much of what we say and mostly listens when we tell her to do something. She's just the best.

... that I'm working on some goals for 2018. I'm not sure what they all are yet, other than, "Match, for the love of God and all that is holy," but I always like the start of a new year and a chance to make some new goals. I also just love a good list. Stay tuned.

So what's new with you?

Do the Thing

Saturday, October 7, 2017

"You're such a badass!"

"You're amazing."

"I wish I could do everything you're doing."

"You make it look so easy."

"I don't know how you do it."

Here's the thing: Neither do I.

All of these statements have been said to me at one time or another in the last 18 months or so, usually with regard to the fact that I was either pregnant and in med school or that I had a baby and was in med school. I know I should probably just take the compliment, say thank you, and move on, but it actually kind of makes me uncomfortable, like I'm some kind of imposter. Because seriously, I have no idea how I'm doing it. I barely know what day it is most days. For real.

If you're playing the home game, you've realized that it's been a minute (ahem, a month and a half) since I last posted. Since then, much has changed. Much has stayed the same. I finished my ER rotation and I'm still really bad at putting in IV's. (Shout out to all the nurses out there who put in IV's like, 900 times a day. You're all heroes in my book.) I started and finished my Osteopathic Manipulative Medicine/Pain rotation, and it was truly painful. There were 18 students on a rotation where we barely had enough doctors to support half that many, and so it was a lot of standing around NOT leaning on walls, lest we get yelled at for smudging them. (Not kidding.) I am 2 weeks into a Medical Genetics rotation that is proving to be far less interesting than I originally had hoped, but at least I'm learning something and my attending is nice and no one cares if I lean on a wall every once in awhile. Oh, I also applied to residency, then promptly threw up and passed out from anxiety. (Okay, maybe not that last part.)

The tiny human is still alive and being a tiny human. She's really amazing, and most days, I still can't believe that I'm her mom. Sometimes, that's because she is so sweet and adorable, I can't even believe she's real. After all the heartache it took to get here, this miracle rainbow of mine just seems too good to be true. Then there are days that I can't believe I'm her mom because I put my keys in the fridge, I lost my brand new prescription sunglasses, and I can't find my phone because I'm holding it in my hand. Like, who let me procreate here? Who rubber-stamped that decision? Oh, me? It was me? Well, that explains a few things. (What it doesn't explain is why my keys are in the fridge.)

Usually my answer to, "I don't know how you do it," is to quickly stop myself from saying, "Shhhhh, don't tell anyone, I'm totally making this up as I go along," and instead I say something to the effect of, "Well, I'm just... doing it!" and then I laugh nervously and change the subject. I also tend to bring up Ken, and blame (attribute?) the entire success of this operation to him. To a certain extent, that's actually true. I literally (and I mean that in the actual definition of the word, not that messed up new way that people use it) could not do this without him. Ken is the reason I have clean clothes and the reason the house is vacuumed. He is the reason dinner is made most nights and the reason we have food in our pantry. He's the reason I'm not curled up under our kitchen table in the fetal position, rocking back and forth, crying about how life is uncertain and how I am unsure whether I can go on like this. (Okay, that's actually never happened, but it is a real possibility, people.

It's especially been a real possibility as of late. I don't know why, but my anxiety has been terrible. Okay, that's a lie, I have a pretty good idea why it's been so bad, and that reason is fourth year of medical school. They say that 4th year is supposed to be the FUN year, but they (Who are they? We may never know.) must be talking about after March, once you have that letter in your hand that says where you've matched for residency. Until then, it's constant flux. I'm in 4 different places over the next 4 months on 4 different peds specialties, which is great and I should learn a ton, but it means constant transitions. Learning a new hospital, figuring out how to use a new EMR, learning how to present to a new attending, all while trying to impress whoever you're in front of because these are audition rotations and with any luck, they're supposed to help get you interviews. On top of that, I'm now obsessively stalking my own email and ERAS, waiting for interview invitations, so I basically have a psychotic break every time my phone vibrates. I'm really fun to be around now, you guys! 

And I know that I am not alone in my plight and that every 4th year med student out there is probably feeling similarly, but my anxiety is having a field day. I'm not even anxious just about residency and matching; it's actual, honest-to-goodness generalized anxiety. As I explained it to a friend the other day, "You know how sometimes, you get a rush of adrenaline like you're about to go into fight-or-flight mode? Well, it's like that. Only all the time. I'm about to go into fight-or-flight mode, but there's no bear that's about to eat me. All day, every day, from the minute I open my eyes to the minute I fall asleep, I'm on that edge."And don't get me wrong, I'm glad there isn't an actual bear who is about to eat me. I'd just like to reserve this feeling for such a time where it makes sense, like if I were about to be eaten by a bear, and not because I have to drive my car or leave the house. Like I said, super fun over here! ::confetti::

So, how do I do it? I get up every day, no matter how reluctantly, and I do the thing. Sometimes I have to bribe myself with chocolate chips. Or coffee. Or whatever the thing is that will get me out the door to do the thing. But I do it. I do it because I'm paying a lot of money for the privilege of standing around, not leaning on walls, theoretically learning how to be a doctor. I do it because I'm so far into this, I can't quit because I have too much debt and nothing else I do will pay me enough to eventually someday maybe pay it off. I do it because my family is depending on me to finish this damn thing. I do it because my daughter needs to know that she can do the hard things. I do it because it's all I've wanted since I was 9. I do it because I don't really have a choice; it's in my blood.

I haven't watched Grey's Anatomy in a really long time. Like, not since season 3 or something. This quote always sticks with me though, 

"I mean if life's so hard already, why do we bring so much trouble on ourselves. What's up with the need to hit the self-destruct button? Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we're wired that way because without it... I don't know. Maybe we just wouldn't feel real. What's that saying... Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop."

Here's to doing the thing. 

Unrelated PS: Should I go back and rewatch all of Grey's Anatomy? Someone make this decision for me. I have no brain cells left to do it myself.

Up to Speed

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

| JUNE |

Finished third year of medical school! (Whaaaaaat?)
Aviva turned 1! (Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?)
Studied for boards
Family photos

All photos by Jessica Piva Photography
| JULY |

Aviva's 1st Birthday Party & Baby Naming
Studied for boards
Took boards
Applied for some residency programs (!!!)


Trip to Orlando
Stuck in the Philadelphia airport for 6.5 hours with a baby

Aviva's first time in a pool

Floated down a lazy river at Rock Spring Run in Apopka, FL
Started my Emergency Med rotation
Stapled a guy's head
Sutured a stab wound
Worked a week of night shift
Put in some IV's

To be continued...


Sunday, May 7, 2017

When I was getting married, I was determined to "not lose myself," in this new role as "wife".

The same thing happened when I got pregnant. I said I would never lose myself to my new role as a mom.

Well, here's the thing.


Yes, caterpillars.

We all know that caterpillars, at some point, go hang themselves up as chrysalises and when they wiggle out, a beautiful butterfly emerges. Or maybe a beautiful moth. Or a plain moth. Whatever. Regardless, a squirmy, wiggly, thing with a lot of legs goes into a tube, and when it comes out, it's an insect with 3 body sections, 2 wings, and a lot fewer legs and a proboscis that lets it drink nectar emerges. If you're like me, you've often thought WHAT HAPPENS IN THERE? Well, it's kind of amazing and completely insane. Here's a cool video:

Basically, the caterpillar releases a bunch of enzymes that turn it into a soup with a bunch of chunky bits, and then the entire thing rearranges itself into an entirely new organism that is made up of all the exact same DNA that was there when it was a caterpillar. NATURE IS WEIRD, YO.


So, how is this related to anything I was talking about at the beginning of this post? It turns out that I was wrong. It's impossible to not lose yourself, at least a little bit, to your new role. I noticed it less as a new wife than I have as a new mom, but it was still present, even then. My priorities shifted. I was no longer a single unit, operating with only my own goals in mind. I was part of a team, and the team's goals became my own goals. I still had goals that were just mine, of course, but most of the time, they were superseded by those of the team. That is how I wanted it. How we wanted it.

It wasn't always the case. Going back to medical school was a time when my own personal goal superseded what was probably "best" for the team, but any good team sometimes requires compromise. Ken fully supported my dream then and continues to support me now as we come slowly (ever so slowly) towards the end of this wild ride called medical school. (1 year to go, basically! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat.) So now I'm a wife who also happens to be a med student, and even underneath those layers, I'm Alison, the woman who loves reading, cheese, and sleeping in on Saturdays. What I'm saying is that there's a definite give and take to marriage, and I haven't lost my old self. It's just there in a different form.

Motherhood has been even more of a trip. I refused to become the stereotypical caricature of a mother that we all know. Haggard, can't remember the last time she showered, slowly martyring herself every day and giving all of her energy to her children. Am I tired? Sure. We're all tired. Granted, this is a different kind of tired than I've ever felt before, but it's nothing exciting or earth shattering. I refused to give up what gives me personal satisfaction and meaning to have it replaced by being a mother. And yes, I love being Aviva's mama, and knowing what I know now, I wouldn't give it up for anything in the entire world. But being Aviva's mama is not my sole identity. It is but a part of the wife-med student-reading-late sleeping-cheese eating woman that I am (and then some).

I often joke that life with a baby is the same as it was before, just... with a baby. But it's not. Sure, our activities are largely the same. We go out to dinner, we do housework, we binge-watch Parks and Rec, and we do it all with Aviva in tow (usually). But something feels different. I can't put my finger on it, but I am feeling like that caterpillar that has turned into a butterfly. I was doing fine as a caterpillar. Life was pretty good most of the time, and I liked it. Then, for 40 weeks, I was in this cocoon of pregnancy, and then I gave birth.  When a butterfly is emerging from a cocoon, it is really hard work and it can take a long time! The 12 weeks after Aviva arrived were my emergence from the cocoon. Our little bubble of a new family was perfect to me, and managing it was also the hardest thing I've done yet. (Yes, even more difficult than boards.)

So, to continue this grossly extended metaphor that is bordering on conceit, now I'm a butterfly (or, maybe a moth, because let's face it, ain't nobody got time to be butterfly beautiful every day), Some days, I feel like I'm still emerging from that cocoon. Drying my wings and learning that not only am I completely different, I am also completely the same as I was before Aviva was even an idea. I'm not going to lie and tell you that it's not hard. It is. It's hard and it's amazing and it's weird, and I'm still not entirely sure who I am or how being a mom fits into the rest of my life. That's the thing about life that I'm (reluctantly) learning; you kind of have to live it to figure it out.

Unlike a butterfly, I think that throughout Aviva's life, I'm going to keep going back into the cocoon, remaking myself. After all, she's not a static force, so I have to change in order to best support and care for her. What she needs from me now is not what she will need from me in 2 weeks, 2 months, 2 years, or 2 decades. I think that any time our identity is threatened by change, even amazingly great change, we have a tendency to back away from it and to fear it. I know I do. But I'm trying to remind myself that it's okay to take all the time I need to get out of that cocoon, and it's okay for you to take your time, too. We don't have to know everything right now. And every time we go back into our cocoon, we have a new opportunity to learn about ourselves and change how we want to see ourselves in the world. It's scary, but hey, at least we don't have to completely liquefy ourselves to do it.

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