Personal views: It could be you
Authors: Joan Maclean
Journal: BMJ (2000)

Last Saturday the envelope containing my decree absolute landed on the mat. Two and a half years ago, after 19 years of marriage and the production of three children, my partner, a doctor, thought that he could do better elsewhere and left. But the pill which has at times been harder to swallow than the divorce wrangling is the elegant disdain with which I have been cast aside by some of his colleagues.


I had been around for a long time—not in any stunningly important capacity, but always available to take telephone messages, entertain colleagues, attend functions, soothe irate private patients. Yet within an amazingly brief period the new partner was introduced on to the scene and to certain people I automatically became yesterday's news, an Orwellian unperson. 


What turns intelligent members of a profession into blank eyed strangers?



These are people with whom we socialised as a couple for years. People who came regularly—over eight, 10, 12 years—to our home to receive our hospitality, which generally entailed my spending Friday evening and most of Saturday in the kitchen producing fussy food or clearing up. More fool me, perhaps. But then we in turn were entertained in the colleagues' homes—presumably after the same mad behind the scenes activity. Tickets to balls were bought and lifts shared; sherry and mince pies were consumed; and bored children entertained in the hospital boardroom on Christmas morning.

So the circles turned. Nothing new, this is how the wheels of professional society are oiled, and you don't have to be bosom pals with everyone to enjoy these things on a superficial level. Many of these were not particularly close friends, some no doubt don't care much for either or both of us, but others were great fun and I thought we had some good times. Yet here is the puzzle: what turns intelligent members of a profession into blank eyed strangers overnight?

My job takes me regularly into the teaching hospitals, where unsurprisingly I have run into several of these faces from the recent past. The dodging down corridors or sudden interest in the floor patterning seem amusing now but initially they hurt. Away from work my altered status was thrown into even sharper relief when I met one man—my husband's close colleague from the same department, and certainly a familiar face—as we reached for trolleys in the supermarket. He managed a look of recognition and half a smile before escaping into the store.

I could go on but too much of the same smacks of paranoia, and though there may be an element of catharsis here I am not seeking revenge. Thankfully, as a working wife and mother of three the medical social circle was by no means my only one. I have kind and decent children who are gradually recovering, a supportive father, an understanding GP, a new partner, and friends who have been such towers of strength that I run out of superlatives to describe them. To these I would add my job, which provided not only income but also much needed traction to my first weeks and months alone. I have recanted utterly my cynical view of counselling, a service which turned out to be beneficial both for the children and for me. My cup, though not quite at capacity, is refilling. Perhaps these positive things allow me to make my point now, nearly three years down the line, in a relatively calm and reasoned manner. Medical social circles are fragile, impermanent things, and it would be self deluding to imagine the numerous relationships within them are the same as solid friendships. This does not mean that their vaporisation overnight is painless, and I would urge those still on the inside to remember that. Bear in mind the abandoned spouse next time you hear of the breakup of a medical marriage. While you will continue to work with the colleagues, and clearly need to maintain relationships, spare the odd thought for the outcast non-medical partner.

We are not asking for undue attention or any hypocritical continuation of a relationship which was of minimal importance. What would be nice would be an acknowledgment if you recognise us in the hospital corridor or in the local supermarket, or a smile instead of an embarrassed shuffle when we find ourselves picking up children at school at the same time or watching the kids playing rugby.

Relax—we abandoned wives won't ask dolefully what you think of our replacement, or weep unnervingly on your shoulder. Those things will be left until we get back in the car or climb into bed alone later that night. The trick includes deep breathing and a lot of waterproof eye makeup.

Life changes immeasurably during and after divorce. Rejection by a partner involves a quite spectacular shattering of constructs: perceived rejection by his or her colleagues adds to the damage. Acknowledge an ex-spouse today and you will promote his or her self esteem immensely. The marriages of doctors are notoriously prone to breakdown—remember, one day it could be you.