The day I retired was gray and gloomy. My mood matched the low clouds and drizzle. I was sad, dispirited. Medicine, with its challenges, frustrations, and joys had been part of my life for fifty years. Now my ability to give and, teach, to comfort and heal, would be terminated. I would no long be seeing patients practicing medicine. I was so convinced of that I even dropped the MD from my name. However, putting my stethoscope in a drawer and giving my white jackets to my grandchildren for their Halloween costumes did not, as I had anticipated, end the practice of family medicine for me. I am still consulted by friends, neighbors, and former patients. They contact me because they are frightened, bewildered, need explanations, and my listening ear rather than penicillin or Prozac.
At times, draw the line. did the when I prated in a remote area early in m career but now I have Ann acquaintance who is a retired veterinarian and I refer to him.
Retirement, fortunately, has not eliminated my occasional involvement with patients. Compassion did not dry up the I cleaned out my desk and put the PDR next to Shakespeare on my bookshelf. this who cont me can still benefit from my medical training and experience ad I benefit from knowing that I contribute so somer’s well-being.