the first rule of fight club is we dont talk about fight club

The first rule of fight club is we don't talk about fight club. So I guess i'm going to break the rule. In a few days I graduate from my Ob/Gyn residency. It's been a long 4 years, and at the end of it all, instead of excitement, I am more anxious than anything. For those of you who know me well, I dont normally talk about my feelings, so let me try. You can't really describe residency: this is something you have to live through. My own mother, to this day, cannot get my schedule or my call straight. She continues to refer to Maternal Fetal Medicine or high risk OB as pathology of pregnancy. And residencies, in general, are hard, and Ob/Gyn is one of the hardest residencies. I say this not to be arrogant, or dismiss how hard others work, but simply to point out that if for some reason I have failed to keep in touch, pay my bills on time, or do the dishes, it's because i've been involved in what can only be described as slave labor. For the past 4 years, I have worked for less than minimum wage, mainly, because for the past 4 years, i have worked on average 80hrs/wk and if you divide out my wages (and subtract the student loans) i would have been better off working at McDonalds. For the past 4 years, I have learned to go without sleep, food, or bathroom breaks. I have learned that a crash csection when you've been at work for 22 hours is not so bad, as the adrenaline totally wakes you up so that you can then go and round on your unsuspected cancer patient. I have learned that if you stop drinking water, your dehydrated body no longer produces urine, and the additional sweat you produce while retracting someone's pannus, guarantees that your bladder doesnt explode. i have learned that a cup of coffee is just as good as, if not better than, a sandwich adn the crackers you find to feed your patients are not dry but tasty and delicious. Obviously i'm exaggerating...sort of. What made it possible was the fact that i enjoy what i do and the fact that i was part of a resident family. Not sleeping through the night was easier when you threw a dance part on L&D in the middle of the night. Seeing a useless consult was easy because you got to bitch about it and complain about other services (please stop officially consulting us about normal menstrual cycles). Clinic and non-compliant, ueber-late patients ran faster because someone brought snacks. There was camaraderie and structure in misery. i dont like change, and the idea of lack of structure (and the addition of free time) freaks me out a bit. the idea of losing the company of a family, equally tired and over-caffeinated resident family, makes me not want to leave and just show up to work on monday. In reality, residency wasnt so bad. surviving residency, emerging from its trenches is rewarding in the skills i acquired in this emerging process, but more importantly, it's knowing that 7 of us survived together, sometimes bitter and whiny, a little sweaty and definitely a little sleepy, makes it ok to celebrate. Cheers!