Money And Medicine by Thu Van Fraser

Money. It’s on the tip of everyone’s tongue. If not, it’s at least on the back of everyone’s mind. No one really wants to talk about it much especially the specifics:

It’s all in a vault locked away behind how you really feel about your in-laws and what you eat when nobody’s looking. But here you are, involved with or married to someone that seemingly has invisible dollar bills hanging off of them or so most people think.

You bring your beloved home and introduce them to the family. “Hi, Mom, Dad, this is Jane/Joe. He/she’s in med school.” Now, what mom or dad wouldn’t be proud? After all, you’ve landed yourself a “doctor.” What most people don’t realize is the gargantuan financial sacrifice most people put themselves in when they take the path of becoming a physician. Of course, there are always a few whose parents are wealthy and generous enough to pay for all of training. I know of a couple (both residents) whose parents bought them a home (and no starter home at that) upon completion of medical school. But for the majority of people, it’s loans, loans, loans: Loans for tuition, loans for sustenance and a roof on their heads. For four years at an average of $50,000 a year, that’s no chump change. This is in addition to any prior loans for college.

Then they’re done with medical school and residency pays them a pittance for the horrendous amount of hours they put in. Most programs pay in the lower to mid $30K range. That’s not too bad if you’re single. Not too good if you’re supporting a family. They can probably pay for basic necessities. But most likely, they will probably see a little debt accruing on the ole credit card.

And the old out-of-college car that they’ve got is beginning to show some signs of wear. My husband still drives his ’91 Mitsubishi Eclipse he got to catch babes. Pieces of it are littered on the highway to and from the hospital since something seems to fall off of it every once in awhile. The radio and A/C are shot. Every time he opens the door, you hear an ear-splitting crack that forebodes that it’s next to go. Thank goodness the seat belts still work. When he goes to a drug rep dinner and the valet takes his car, we joke about how we’re going to check the mileage when we get it back because surely the valet will want to take it for a spin around the block.

By the time you and your spouse hit residency, you will be looking to purchase a home. The fun really starts when the loan officer asks about any debt you have versus income brought in. Once everybody dries his/her eyes from laughter, you get down to business figuring out how much you can afford. More guffaws and wiping of eyes. But surprisingly through some bizarre and disturbing twisting of numbers, you’re approved. Heck, the foreclosures of times past were approved at some time or another!

We haven’t arrived at the next rite of passage yet. I don’t know what happens once my husband’s done with fellowship. I imagine he’ll get a faculty job somewhere since deep down he wants to do research and save the world. I’ll always be proud of his achievements – money be damned. He’s definitely worth more than his wallet. But for now, I avoid telling new friends what field my husband is in. I find the little “ka-ching” that goes off in their heads a bit too much. But I’m happy – there’s something to be said for starting off together at the bottom. These are the good ole days we’ll be talking about in the future!

I always bust out laughing when I hear of advice for financial planning. It’s like giving advice to the homeless about how to re-decorate.