Career-dropping

If I had a Match.com profile, my dislikes would include: the sitcom Two and a Half Men, tourist traps, and bragging. I absolutely hate when people brag about their fancy homes, cars, watches or their elite Ivy League education or the fact that they are the frequent object of admiring glances from the opposite sex.

How things have changed. Before I started residency, during my summer vacation, I wished that I could plaster "M.D." on my forehead so that the world would know all that I had accomplished. For instance, last month I was at our local department store Belk getting a gift wrapped at customer service. The elderly lady wrapping my box told me that she had an aunt that was a 100 years old and still lived at home and on occasion played ball with her grandchildren.

A thought suddenly flashed through my mind, I want these nice ladies at Belk to know that I am not an average customer, I want them to know I'm a doctor. So, as the lady talked about her amazingly healthy century-old aunt, I nodded in faux-admiration and casually inserted into the conversation: "That's so great she's healthy! These days people who are over-50 have so many diseases like hypertension and diabetes."

I thought I sounded knowledgeable without coming across as self-aggrendizing, but the lady continued to wrap the box with pink ribbon and did not ask me, "Well how do you know that?" as I had intended her to. This will not do, I thought. So, then I said, "I'm in the healthcare profession and people are so unhealthy these days! It's nice to see your aunt is doing great at a 100!"

And that did the trick. "Well, oh my gosh, what do you do?" the lady asked, finally going along with the script I had created in my mind.
"Well, I will be a doctor at Wake Forest in July."
"Well congratulations, that is just so great! What kind of doctor?"
"A psychiatrist," I replied.
At this juncture another elderly lady appeared from the woodwork. "A psychiatrist? You know you'll need a gun, right?" she exclaimed in her Gentile Southern accent. This, of course, was not the intended response and almost seemed as if it were a non sequitor and borderline offensive, mocking the career of a mental health worker who labors to ensure patients don't disappear into the abyss of suicide or psychosis.
"Excuse me?" I said trying to hide my annoyance.
"Well, those crazy people - they could hurt you! I saw it on the TV," she said, a firm believer of the scare tactics of the 5 0'clock news.
"I'll be okay. They treat us self-defense at orientation" (for the record, they do not). And so, with that I learned my lesson of casual boasting. It never does end well.

And now, that I have actually started my residency, answering pages with, "This is Dr. Qureshi" fills me with an unforeseen anxiety. I feel like a huge fraud - after all, who the hell is this Dr. Qureshi? Certainly not me; I feel like I'm playing pretend as my dad, who has been answering the phone with that line for the entirety of my life. Every time I have to answer a page on call, I never know what to say since Dr. Qureshi sounds so extremely prideful, and pride cometh before the fall.

And so, I try out different phrases, hoping one will fit comfortably; "Hi, this is Mariam, the new intern" or "Hi I received a page, I'm the new psych intern" or "Umm, hi did anyone page psychiatry?" or the now-dreaded but direct, "This is Dr. Qureshi returning a page."

--By Mariam, who is no longer an MS, and is now a PGY-1...Is that an upgrade or a downgrade? Jury's still out.