Story of the Day 10/ 10/ 2009

My husband is preparing to take his Boards. His recertification test in Rheumatology.

Back in the “day”, you took your Boards once. Well, once for Internal Medicine and once for Rheumatology, and then you could spend the rest of your days referring to yourself as a Board Certified Rheumatologist.
Oh yes, in order to keep your Medical License current, you had to complete a certain number of Continuing Education Credits of various types, but you were , eternally, “Board Certified” in your specialty.
However, somewhere during my husband’s many years of professional training, not his 4 years of medical school, and not his year of internship and 2 years of residency, but somewhere during his next few years of fellowship training, they changed the rules.

Because he had completed his Boards in Internal Medicine, his first specialty, before the new rules, he is eternally Certified in it.
However, since he finished his Rheumatology fellowship and took his Boards in it after the new rules, he has to re-take the Boards every 10 years, again and again and again , until he either retires or no longer gives a shit about being Board Certified in it.

Oh yes, he can still practice medicine as a Rheumatologist whether or not he re-takes the test. He just cannot declare himself to be Board Certified.
So, my husband has been diligently re-taking this test at 10 year intervals. And because he is the very serious and organized person that he is, he starts studying for them about 6 years in advance, setting aside time to cover a certain amount of material every week. 6 years? Well, that is exactly what the ABIM ( American Board of Internal Medicine….I think) recommend- and my husband happens to be incredibly good at following directions.

And this is in addition to the studying he does to keep up to date with new information regarding both the practice of Rheumatology and the practice of Internal Medicine.

My husband is 51 years old. So, he took this test when he was 41, and before that, when he was 31. And he will be taking it again in 10 years, when he is 61, and possibly when he is 71, ten years after that. He has , however, assured me, that if he is still practicing medicine when he is 81, he will tell them to go screw themselves, and skip taking it. He figures that any patients who are still seeing him, at that point, will not give a shit about it.

That’s my husband. He likes to live dangerously.

The test changes. Different questions, different things to know.
And it also changes as the world changes, because time and technology have marched on.
This will be the first year that he will be taking it without paper, and without a # 2 pencil that has been carefully sharpened. Or, in my husband’s case, three #2 pencils. Because one might break, and the back up one might break……

So, my husband has done the practice of the new format for the test, which is available on-line, to get ready for it.

The test is Thursday.
It is at the Pyramids.
Not in Egypt.
North of us.
There are these three sort of pyramid shaped buildings. Well, not quite pyramid shaped and with their tops chopped off, but they are still called the Pyramids.
So, as another part of his test preparation, he drove out there , yesterday morning, to make sure he knew exactly where to go. He even parked and took the elevator up to the correct floor, to make sure there would be no problems in finding the correct place.

Then, today, he received a final list of instructions from the testing center.
It is forbidden to take watches, phones and wallets into the testing room.
Okay. All right. Fine.

Although, I can see my husband’s discomfort. He is always ready and always prepared. He always has his watch on his wrist ready to give the time.

He always has his wallet in one pocket, and two carefully folding Kleenex in the other- folded into perfect squares, in the other. Ready , as needed .

He always has his keys in his pocket, careful not to get locked out.
Oh wait, I think they let him keep the keys.

But my husband has decided he will be okay with this.
Probably because he can still have his Kleenex.

However, he did say to me, “ I really do hope I get to keep my pants.”