Forging An Identity Beyond Medicine As Retirement Looms

At a very recent birthday, my mom offered this fact: “You have more years behind you than in front of you.” Thanks for stating the obvious.

Her perception was for my life but I can also apply it to my career. Right now, the latter spans 33 years post-residency. With the former, let’s just say I can collect some Social Security. However, I’m not ready to do so just yet.

In no time at all, my daughter is in her 20s, I have been married more than 30 years and the 60s (not the wild decade of peace and flower children) are happening. If you are so lucky, you may get the opportunity to call it a day, hang up the white coat and let the younger generation worry about the profession. At this point, though, it is still a dream but closer than we think or would want.

You start to talk with colleagues who are in the same timeframe and gauge their perspectives. Two of these conversations I had became food for thought.  

One physician said she would never stop practicing because her identity is being a doctor. She is an internist. Take it away and where does it leave her? My quick response to her was that I hoped medicine was not my identity and there was more to me than being a doctor.

Then the wheels started to turn. She already knows where she stands and can go forward, I guess, until she can’t go anymore. On the other hand, I am in a quandary. How can I proclaim that medicine is not my identity but I’m still working like a dog? Suppose you say “so long” and then you find out medicine all along was your identity? Then what?

Time will tell, I guess. There are potentially two scenarios: one, medicine is not my identity and whatever I do after fits in nicely. Two, medicine has always been my identity, which I never knew or possibly ignored, and now it’s just a memory. Let’s face it. If it is the second option, you can only travel so much or have a part-time gig, which will not satisfy the loss of identity.

Maybe the second physician I spoke with offered somewhat of a clue to solve this dilemma. He states medicine is not his identity but he will continue practicing, albeit at a reduced schedule, as long as he is able. His relationship with patients and caring for them would be his motivation. Is this me?

This is how I ultimately see it: You never make it to the end so you never find out. Alternately, I do hang it up and either I am right all along when I say medicine isn’t my identity or I’m kidding myself, and medicine is indeed my identity. If it’s the former, we celebrate. The latter, we panic, I think.  

I just thought of something with the treatise above. You know who will have it the absolute toughest no matter which one it is? My wife.

If medicine is not part of my identity, I am around 24/7. Can she deal with that? Conversely, if medicine is indeed my identity, she deals with my efforts after retirement to get back in. Will she be able to do it? What is her identity in relation to my career choice? I believe she is so much more than a doctor’s wife. Soon I should broach the identity thing with her. After all, she is only six months younger so life choices are just around the corner for her too. Besides, she has a better handle on life than I do.  

How do we teach the residents? Is medicine their identity or not? Do we want it to be? Are there teachable moments to broaden their horizon? Alternately, are residents lucky in that with their outlook, it is just a job, which divorces the medicine as an identity thing immediately? I will stop here and look forward to any advice you may have.  

Think about where you stand on the identity scale, especially if you are like me and there is more life in back of you than in front.

Dr. Wallace is the Director of the Podiatry Service and the Medical Director of Ambulatory Care Services at University Hospital in Newark, N.J