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Authors: Julie Holland
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continued to date Jeremy, the artist, photographer, writer, and my best boyfriend ever. Soon it was my fourth and final year, and I needed to decide what to do next. I applied for a schizophrenia research fellowship at Columbia and was accepted. I would be doing neuroimaging studies, analyzing PET scans of schizophrenics to try to discern the status of their serotonin receptors. I had been involved in schizophrenia research for most of my residency, had won an award from the National Institute of Mental Health for my protocol, and it was my assumption that this was my calling, my life’s work. I was on the path I was meant to tread.
And then I got a phone call from Bellevue. Dr. Lear, the CPEP director, was offering me a job. “You made quite an impression when you rotated through here. We’d love to have you aboard.”
I was flattered, to say the least. I hadn’t applied for the job; they were calling me.
“So, here’s the thing, Julie. It’s not your typical schedule. We just need you to work weekends. Two overnights, Saturday and Sunday. And you’d need to come in for a few hours on Thursday mornings for faculty meetings.”
“Just weekends?” I asked, incredulous. It was too good to be true. I could have all week off. To do what? Hang out with Jeremy and play guitar in the park? Take up ballet? Pottery? My mind was racing withthe possibilities. It was more free time than I’d had in years, probably since summer vacations when I was a kid. And Bellevue was offering me significantly more money than Columbia. “But I already told Columbia I’d take the fellowship,” I told him.
“Call them back and tell them you’ve changed your mind,” he said casually, like this kind of thing happened all the time. “I need to know soon.”
When I called Columbia to discuss it with the fellowship director, he was stupefied. No one had ever turned down a research fellowship at Columbia, it seemed.
I agonized over the decision for a few days, and drove Jeremy insane in the process. Even Dan Levy called it a “No-brainer! More money and more free time … what’s the dilemma exactly?” I seriously weighed taking both jobs and working seven days a week. Finally, I called the Columbia director back and sheepishly left a message on his machine, thanking him for all his help, but letting him know that I was taking the Bellevue job.
Two of Us
I t is Monday, July 1, 1996, when I walk into the faculty offices of CPEP. Dr. Lear, my new boss, introduces me to some of the other doctors. And lo and behold, there is Lucy. I had actually forgotten all about her in the seven years since I’d brought her those wontons, but as soon as I hear her name and see her face, it all comes rushing back: the shirts, the stories, her balls, my blunder. (“Do your parents know?”)
“And so we meet again!” I greet her. I wish that she would remember me immediately, but I have to mention the
mondu
before she does. I am thrilled to know we will be working together, and eager to attempt, once again, to befriend her.
I take Lucy as the ultimate good omen. If she likes it here, I know I will too. I idolized her at Temple, resonating with her energy so similar to my own. She was my doppelgänger, six years ahead of me in our training, but now our vectors have merged, and we are on the same playing field, both CPEP attendings. No longer an awed medical student and a strutting chief resident, we are now colleagues. Now I know I’m in the right place.
Over the next few weeks, Lucy and I become fast friends at CPEP. As I get to know her better, she again lets me into her private inner sanctum, as she did that night in the Temple ER.
“Make sure you have good disability insurance,” she says to me one day, pretty much out of the blue. “Get it now while you’re young and healthy, and don’t let it lapse.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“I’m going to let you in on a little something I haven’t told everyone here. At my
And then I got a phone call from Bellevue. Dr. Lear, the CPEP director, was offering me a job. “You made quite an impression when you rotated through here. We’d love to have you aboard.”
I was flattered, to say the least. I hadn’t applied for the job; they were calling me.
“So, here’s the thing, Julie. It’s not your typical schedule. We just need you to work weekends. Two overnights, Saturday and Sunday. And you’d need to come in for a few hours on Thursday mornings for faculty meetings.”
“Just weekends?” I asked, incredulous. It was too good to be true. I could have all week off. To do what? Hang out with Jeremy and play guitar in the park? Take up ballet? Pottery? My mind was racing withthe possibilities. It was more free time than I’d had in years, probably since summer vacations when I was a kid. And Bellevue was offering me significantly more money than Columbia. “But I already told Columbia I’d take the fellowship,” I told him.
“Call them back and tell them you’ve changed your mind,” he said casually, like this kind of thing happened all the time. “I need to know soon.”
When I called Columbia to discuss it with the fellowship director, he was stupefied. No one had ever turned down a research fellowship at Columbia, it seemed.
I agonized over the decision for a few days, and drove Jeremy insane in the process. Even Dan Levy called it a “No-brainer! More money and more free time … what’s the dilemma exactly?” I seriously weighed taking both jobs and working seven days a week. Finally, I called the Columbia director back and sheepishly left a message on his machine, thanking him for all his help, but letting him know that I was taking the Bellevue job.
Two of Us
I t is Monday, July 1, 1996, when I walk into the faculty offices of CPEP. Dr. Lear, my new boss, introduces me to some of the other doctors. And lo and behold, there is Lucy. I had actually forgotten all about her in the seven years since I’d brought her those wontons, but as soon as I hear her name and see her face, it all comes rushing back: the shirts, the stories, her balls, my blunder. (“Do your parents know?”)
“And so we meet again!” I greet her. I wish that she would remember me immediately, but I have to mention the
mondu
before she does. I am thrilled to know we will be working together, and eager to attempt, once again, to befriend her.
I take Lucy as the ultimate good omen. If she likes it here, I know I will too. I idolized her at Temple, resonating with her energy so similar to my own. She was my doppelgänger, six years ahead of me in our training, but now our vectors have merged, and we are on the same playing field, both CPEP attendings. No longer an awed medical student and a strutting chief resident, we are now colleagues. Now I know I’m in the right place.
Over the next few weeks, Lucy and I become fast friends at CPEP. As I get to know her better, she again lets me into her private inner sanctum, as she did that night in the Temple ER.
“Make sure you have good disability insurance,” she says to me one day, pretty much out of the blue. “Get it now while you’re young and healthy, and don’t let it lapse.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“I’m going to let you in on a little something I haven’t told everyone here. At my
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