After all, we’ve put the Hubble Telescope into orbit to see into the farthest reaches of the galaxy. We’ve eradicated polio (if not for the anti-vaxers). We’ve invented Crystal Pepsi. We can handle this one, too.
I’ve been marinating on this one for a while. And 3.5 months into sabbatical, I think I have it. While the AMA and other governing bodies in medicine have been running around in circles lighting their heads on fire, I have the answer to address the “how to address the mental health needs of physicians” issue.
Home can be a bit of a nebulous concept. It’s a place. It’s people. It’s brick and mortar. It’s a geographical location. But it’s also sights, sounds, smells, and importantly (at least to me), home cooking. Home isn’t just one thing.
About mid leap, my trail leg, and specifically my trail foot, clipped the tree. This is what we call a miscalculation. Emma Coburn, I am not. I hit the deck. And by hitting the deck, I mean I fell on the trail. Hard. Boom. Down. Not only that, I had the pleasure of landing on my keys, which were by my right hip.
I went in to Medicine with the best of intentions, to work tirelessly to do good for people, and hopefully all would turn out well. However, doctors and nurses are subject to the same stressors as other professions.
“If life has taught me one lesson repeatedly, it’s to know when I’ve been beat.” –Principal Seymour Skinner, the Simpsons
I’m a pediatrician. And I recently did something that most people in the medical world would consider career suicide. In fact, many people that I talk to don’t really seem to understand the idea. I decided to take a sabbatical.
“Because, as it turns out, you have to start somewhere.”