Retirement from Clinical Practice

Next week I have the privilege of facilitating a meeting on retirement sponsored by the Massachusetts Psychiatric Society. On two counts I was happy to be invited to do this.

First, from the perspective of this blog, medical societies are significant organizational players in the world of health care ethics. A well-functioning medical society helps newly minted physicians find their way into practice, provides guidance throughout the active phases of clinical careers, and supports colleagues in concluding their practices in ways that work as well as possible for our patients and for our own well-being. If a medical society isn't strengthening the ethics of its members it's not doing its job!

Second, the invitation prodded me to review my own experience of retirement from clinical practice, with the aim of distilling some comments to launch a group discussion. These are my major thoughts so far:

DREAD: Even though I was only practicing 1/3 time, I was frightened at the prospect of clinical retirement. My fear showed up in two visual images. I identified with King Antaeus, the figure in Greek mythology who derived his strength from the earth. He challenged Hercules to a wrestling match. Each time Hercules threw Antaeus to the ground, Antaeus's strength was renewed. Hercules caught on, held Antaeus in the air and crushed him to death. In one version of the story he hurled Antaeus into space, where he became a constellation. In the other image I saw myself as a sailboat utterly becalmed and helpless. Both images conveyed a feeling that my vitality and worth as a human being came from my role as a practicing physician.

MENTORING: I asked to meet with a colleague who was 10-15 years older, who to my eye was negotiating his life in an admirable manner. I told him about my fear of ending clinical practice. He told me he'd had similar concerns, but was surprised to find an element of relief when he stopped practicing, even though he'd never thought of practice as a strain to be relieved. He gave me some other practical tips, but I still remember with gratitude his reassurance about my fears.

MONEY: The meetings my wife and I had with our financial advisor were crucial. Confidence that we wouldn't go down the tubes financially was necessary for proceeding with the retirement plan, but not sufficient in itself to assuage my fears.

ENERGY: When on Friday August 31, 2007, I acknowledged to myself that I was really going to end my practice at the turn of the year, a surprising thing happened. In a desultory way I'd imagined starting a blog about ethics at an undetermined time in the future. But when I pinned down the date by which I would end my practice, without any forethought I went to Google and put in "start a blog." The inner experience was as if a stream that had been flowing in one direction (clinical practice/identity as a clinician) shifted into a new direction (the blog and the beginning of a new identity). I started this blog that day.

DISORIENTATION: When I was working full time my days were organized - especially on days when I saw patients. For clinicians, our schedule of patients tells us why we should get up in the morning. Trying to help people who are suffering assuages doubts about our purpose in life. 

LONELINESS: Retiring from clinical practice didn't mean retiring from professional activities. I continued my cherished academic position and leadership of the Harvard Pilgrim Health Care ethics program. These activities provided important and valued human connections. But I missed the richness of clinical life - connections with my long term patients and colleagues.

I'm proud of the Massachusetts Psychiatric Society for its attention to the penultimate phase of clinical career and grateful for the opportunity to participate. The health professions are devoted to the well-being of patients and the public health. If clinical retirement is handled well, these values can be pursued in new ways after physicians hand up their clinical hats.