I wondered what the last day would be like - would I be happy or sad? anxious or excited? exhausted or energized? Would the patient interactions on that day feel different than those of the previous 20 years? And what would life feel like the day AFTER the last day?
Read MoreThis week marked the beginning of a big change: I shared with my partners, team and patients that I will close my practice at the end of November. Our youngest child is a senior, and the nest will be empty soon. My work in value-based care will generously allow me the flexibility to travel while working. The COVID pandemic has been difficult for healthcare workers everywhere; it certainly contributed to my decision to take a break from clinical medicine. For all these reasons, the timing is right to make a career change to administrative medicine.
Read MoreI went back to running outside this week as the weather in Kansas turned to spring. I am a planner by nature, so I always check on various must-haves before venturing out: temperature (which ranged from 80 degrees to snow this week!), wind (anything less than 10 mph is golden, up to 20 mph is tolerable), when the sun comes up and how much time that leaves me post-run before I need to be ready to roll for the day. I prefer to run at first light, in those perfect moments before the sun is above the horizon. Some days all the details line up, other days I head to the treadmill in my basement. Today was one of the perfect days: temperature low 40’s, wind speed 7 mph, sunrise 7:04am.
Read MoreToday is Saturday, November 21, 2020. It feels as if 2020 has gone on a very long time and we haven’t even had Thanksgiving yet. It feels past time for this year to be over, if only it would carry the pandemic away with it. I feel this way; I hear my family, friends, teammates and patients voice this sentiment; no doubt many people are tired of 2020 all over Rooks County, in Kansas, across the United States and the world. Before this pandemic can end, though, some things need to happen, and we all need to pitch in to help.
Read MoreI gave myself a pep talk recently before walking into the local grocery store. “You can do this. You should do this. Just keep swimming.” Why all the self-talk? I was going to wear my cloth mask into the store. And I was pretty sure I was going to be the only person in the store wearing a mask. Being alone in doing something feels awkward any day; during a time when every single person around you is under quite a bit of stress because of an ongoing global pandemic and a growing awareness of pervasive racial injustice, it gets downright hard.
Read MoreI tell my children that they will be able to share firsthand stories with their children and grandchildren about a significant piece of history: the pandemic in their lifetime. It gives me perspective for this very interesting time in my own life and helps me slow down and appreciate all that is happening and everything I am learning. COVID19 has made a big impression: in 2020, in the world, in the US, in Kansas, in the healthcare community, in my own work, family and life. Some changes are negative (fear, economic impact, morbidity and mortality). And some are positive. Those useful changes are the ones I am working to recognize, learn from and pivot toward in the longer-term.
Read MoreThis morning, I heard a meadlowlark outside. This bird’s song always makes me think of spring, and of hope. It made me think about all the meadowlarks in my own life, especially those who made such a difference in the last week. You know these folks, too: they build hope using their actions and words, they help us think of spring. We will make it to spring, and summer, and the end of the coronavirus pandemic. Thanks, meadowlarks. Keep singing; we need you.
Read MoreI’ve “had my snorkel up” the last couple of months. My senior partner introduced me to the phrase after I started practice in Rooks County, so perhaps it is unique to our group. If you take a minute to reflect on the words, you’ll know what they mean: I was underwater and one big wave away from losing my lifeline to the surface.
Read MoreThings are different when you live half-way between Kansas City and Denver. You can’t pop down the street to a great Ethiopian restaurant or head to the mega-mall for a last minute Christmas gift, for example. And there is no anonymity; news in a small community travels quickly, and everyone is part of the community. The line between patient and friend rarely exists. My home address and phone number are in the phonebook; it wouldn’t matter if they were unlisted because everyone knows where I live anyway. And I’m good with that fact.
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