Dating a resident physician
I’m not always happy about sharing him, but it helps when I see us as a team rather than competitors.
Earlier in my life, I had worried about that team aspect, fearing marriage meant sacrificing my identity.
The previous year had been the hardest stretch of his medical training.
“You were there if she needed you.”“I didn’t do a thing.”“That’s not true,” I said. At our wedding, we had made vows to each other, but before I met him, at his medical school graduation, he had made vows to his future patients.
Our marriage was private, but his profession was not.“I’m proud of you,” I said.
His soggy medical license was drying on the coffee table; the flight attendant had set it down on the ice bin in the galley.
He told me that when he saw the woman in the suit slumped against the wall, he worried she was dead.
He had held the stethoscope to the woman’s chest but could barely discern her heartbeat over the roar of the jets.