Who art thou Postdoc?

[This piece was part a dramatic reading - Off the record, Northwestern University Feinberg Medical School, Chicago, IL 60611. Date: 05-14-2021]

It was one of those odd days when I had to get away (take a break, if you will) from all the mind boggling yakety yak about neurotransmitters, neural pathways, pharmacology, and synaptic clefts of the neuro world. The other marginally acceptable option I had, veered me off into an alternate universe of gloom and doom that is, ‘The Hamlet’. You know, guilty pleasure sort of a thing!

“To be, or not to be..." the opening phrase of the soliloquy in the ‘Nunnery Scene’ from, ‘The Hamlet, as the despairing Prince Hamlet contemplates death, and laments the pains, (add insults to the list) of life and concedes that the alternative could be stifling and much shoddier. I concluded thusly (if anyone even reads my blog(s), fair warning: STOP being a vocabulary/syntax snob!!): “the man is a genius indeed (nothing new, of course!)!” I wondered how this simple thought befits the sad sagas of postdocs like a glove..unlike the one that was used as a fashion accessory, ala Gaga and those brobdingnagian monstrosity, she called, 'gloves.'

I have always wanted to be a researcher and yearned to attribute every waking hour to Neuroscience and such. Not a bad goal, you say? After all, I did complete my PhD. and stood ever so proudly in that god awful graduation yellow and orange gown (the color varies across continents). Why are we made to wear these hideous gowns and be the source of endless mockery is beyond me and may warrant a phenomenal cynical blog or two dedicated to this quandary? well.. I digress..

So, let me set the stage for the events following my prestigious 'PhD adornment'.

Act 1

The ‘butterflies in my stomach’ set my pulses racing.... TAKE YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER!!. Its not because of a boy, but because I have been offered Postdoctoral research Fellowship!

“Huzzah!”

“I’m off to do great things!” “I’m going to cure the world of Neuropsych diseases”.

With that familiar, yet more refreshing whirring in my brain, sickening, cringe-worthy sparkle in my eyes, and positive thinking galore, I set afoot as a postdoc.

‘Postdoc Fellow’ had (notice the tense) a certain ring to it!” I suddenly grew an inch or two taller. “My daughter is a post-doc!” boasted my mom and dad. All seemed perfect; too perfect. The magic of a new setting, new realm of life, the newness of it all, it is a good feeling, I say!

Act 2

Six months into this perfect made for each other- ‘marriage made in heaven’, all hell slowly, painfully slowly, starts to break loose. I go through the infamous five stages of grief.

Act 3

The first stage sneaks up on you unnoticed. Let's all that 'Denial' -

The honeymoon is over; gone; long gone; absconded into the oblivion, disappeared into the nothingness.

Lo n behold! I don’t seem to consider it all over and done. I take comfort in talking myself into seeing the good in it all. Enter, “self-pep” talk!

Act 4

End of year one: Lets call it 'Anger' - It starts off with a smidgen of self-analysis followed by a tad bit of positive thinking ho-cum, you know, like a little salad with a big bucket of fries just so you don’t feel too bad!

“Well, I am a post-doc! Come on! That is something, now.. isn’t it?” which slowly morphs into what I consider ‘uncontrollable anger entwined with the reflection of something that looked like not-yet fully formed hopelessness’

Oh! hang on! you don’t have to wait that long to see that rear its ugly head!

Act 5

Year two: Lets call it 'Bargaining' -

“I probably work long hours. Sure, but then, I get paid okay-ish (really? **rolling eyes**). Wait! It doesn’t seem all that encouraging to look at it from this angle.

How about, “Well, I’m paid next to nothing, but I work…oh! No….how do I talk me into believing that this is great?! How do I convince myself that this is beyond great? Let me think about it this way: well, I work 14h a day x 7 days x bare minimum wage x not much recognition? Now, there! how does that sound?, I ask. I’m slowly slipping into that cynical stage, aren’t I?

SPOILER ALERT - We still have some time to go to that full-blown stage! hang in there if you want to experience that feeling.

Act 6

Year three: Lets call it 'Depression' -

Second year comes and goes; third year in progress. Summer interns come and go. The saving grace in all this is the fact that those googley-eyed interns think I am exceptional and brilliant and selfless and a great mentor to them. I also get awarded with a certificate for being a good mentor! That perks me right up! At least for the time they are in the lab.

Then, that stare at the abyss stage. Work; home; abyss-the vicious circle continues. Behold the monotony and complete and utter sadness! I no longer smile. There is a new, albeit unwelcome addition, the most dreaded frown line on my forehead and the gray hairs think it is their time to show off and start sprouting gloriously on my widow’s peak of all places! The result of age, you say? That might well be, but add a melancholy or two, the gray hair flourishes and thrives.

Act 7

Year Four: Lets call it 'Acceptance'-

Stop whining! It is what it is! all is not lost.. there are a few more years, you can still do a ton of things! Learn a new skill, write a grant and become a PI.

Can go on to a second postdoc (Oh! the horror!).

Final Act

After all the trials and tribulations, I finally come up with this sensible acceptance-

“I’m a glorified lab tech with a fancy title!”

Nothing demeaning about being a lab tech. None at all. If Id known this is how my career will be shaping up, I would've done the tech job without working like a loon for 4 years to get my PhD is all!

Where are Marty & Dr. Brown when you need them desperately, right??

The curtain descends slowly. The show is over people!! (virtual bow!)

There is light at the end of the painfully dark, long, rat (mouse, gerbils,apes.. or whatever is your poison) infested tunnel.

As I come to this illuminating realization, I hear in the distance, “you are not alone..” God bless MJ! I laugh out loud at my sense of humor. At least I still have it! 5-3/4years on and still going strong.