Residents Blog

During my career—initially as a caddy and now as a psychiatry resident—I’ve had the immense privilege of listening to the stories of others. Here's one of those stories.

As I near the 1-year anniversary of my crowning as a World’s Expert, it seems like only yesterday that I was just an average citizen . . . I am at heart a clinician and a consummate clinician is what I aim to be.

My introduction to the works of Dr Z followed shortly AFTER my own humiliation. My patient had just stormed out of the interview and informed me that I would never pass the medical boards with my apparently egregious neglect of her needs. My supervisor gave me a smile and said, “You might have done better if you approached the patient like Dr Z suggests.

Every residency class needs its symbolic rebel, an outsider who will risk it all in the fight against inane and superfluous paperwork. When your program is demanding redundant treatment plans, insisting on triplicate no-show notes, or reminding you to complete some tedious log, this resident is the kind of leader who will confront the administration with tough phrases, like “This form is ridiculous.”

I was ready. In my mind I rehearsed agreeable sermons about diet, exercise, and MMR vaccines I’d use to shepherd my courteous new patients to wellness. It’s like I wanted to replace my memories of psychiatric patients with the most wholesome medical facts.

Here, a psychiatrist interviews Charlie Maher, PsyD, CC-AASP, author of The Complete Mental Game of Baseball: Taking Charge of the Process On and Off the Field. A licensed psychologist, Dr. Maher is Professor Emeritus of Applied Psychology at Rutgers University, and serves as the Director of Psychological Services for the Cleveland Indians.

After seeing Death of a Salesman on Broadway, I knew I had seen something extraordinary—but it was only after a few days’ separation from the performance when my mind cleared and my emotions settled that I realized 2 of the reasons that made me very appreciative to see this play as a young psychiatrist.

In my experience these are the common complaints by residents who want to come to work tie-free and some simple rebuttals if you, as I do, wish to see future male psychiatrists adorning neckwear