As of 6/30/2023, I am officially retired from patient care. It has been a gripping, often exhilarating 45 year ride.
On my last day, when left my office for the final time, passing my baton to my newly acquired partner, I suddenly felt something dissolving in my chest, something that I had carried for all 45 years, something that was so much part of me that I was unaware of its presence: the tension that comes from being responsible for human beings’ lives. My patients for years, often for decades, trusted me with their life and counted on me to help restore and maintain their health.
I remember where I was when I decided to be a doctor at the age of 12. Sitting on the terrasse of my third floor apartment in Bologna, Italy, I asked myself “What is the most important thing I would enjoy doing for the rest of my life?” The answer was “To heal the human body.”
After six years of medical school at the University of Bologna, I moved to the USA. I worked as a nurse’s aide for 3 months to learn English, before starting my medical internship. I remember my first day as an intern, when I walked into Long Island College Hospital in Brooklyn, New York, feeling sorry and apprehensive about my potential patients. After 6 years of Medical School, and a Summa Cum Laude diploma, I realized I knew nothing and therefore I was potentially lethal.
The training was grueling. As an intern, I had 32 hours practically sleepless shifts usually twice per week. As a resident, I often had to be on call for 3 days at the time. I watched many sunrises from the on call on the 10th floor, checking off another day in my mind.
Over the years, I slowly learned the art and science of medicine, so in the end, I often had a diagnosis after seeing a patient one time. The most important thing I learned was to listen to what my patients had to say. The in-person history is often the most important source of clues to the correct diagnosis.
Having practiced Internal Medicine for almost 20 years, I felt the need for a change. For my 45th birthday, my husband gave me a card saying: “This is not a dress rehearsal.” It took me 3 years of research (while still working as an internist, including on Saturdays) to match for a cardiology fellowship at the UCLA-VA program. When I was on call, I would sleep in an empty patient’s room because I lived in Newport Beach and I worked in LA. I was commuting every day for 3 years. My kids were 10 and 11 and 17. They and my husband were very supportive.
I started a cardiology practice and many of my internal medicine patient came back to see me.
Through the years, the most important reward, was the gratitude of my patients. Leaving them was one of the hardest thing I had to do.
I started to think about retirement a few years ago, the day I received a cancer diagnosis. Despite my excellent prognosis, I had to accept the fact that I was mortal and that there were many more things I wanted to do with the rest of my life, one being writing novels.
I’m free from the pressure of time, from the tension of being “on call” 24/7, my ear tuned to any phone ring, any cry for help from my patients, from the limitations my busy doctor’s schedule placed on my leisure time. I still wake up at 6:30 AM eager to get going, only to remember that the vacation I’m in today doesn’t have a end.
I still wake up at 6:30 AM eager to get going, only to remember that the vacation I’m in today doesn’t have a end. I have cried with my patients, placed my stethoscope to rest in its original box, and started the new phase of my life as a full time author and a full time Dr. Mom.
