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A distant friend and I were recently chatting by email. After years of trying, she’s become a successful author, and decided to leave medicine to focus on the new career.
She’s excited about this, as it’s really what she’s always dreamed of doing, but at the same time feels guilty about it. Leaving medicine for a new career isn’t quite the same as quitting your job as a waitress or insurance salesman. You’ve put a lot of time, and effort, and money, into becoming an attending physician.
I also once dreamed of being a successful writer (amongst other things) but have no complaints about where I landed. I like what I do. Besides, I don’t have her kind of imagination.
It’s a valid point, though. Becoming a doc in practice takes a minimum of 4 years of college and 4 years of medical school. Then you tack on a residency of 3 years (internal medicine) to 7 years (neurosurgery). On top of that many add another 1-2 years for fellowship training. So you’re talking a bare minimum of at least 11 years, ranging up to 17 years.
Then you think of how much money was spent on college and medical school — tuition, living expenses, loan interest, not to mention the emotional toll of the training.
You also have to think that somewhere in there you got a chance to become a doctor while someone else didn’t.
So, I can see why she feels guilty, but she shouldn’t. She’s paid back all her loans, so no one else is left carrying the financial bag. The argument about denying someone else a spot can be kind of flimsy when you don’t know how that person might have turned out (the medical school dropout rate is 15%-18%).
Life is unpredictable. We often don’t really know what we want until we get there, and those journeys are rarely a straight line. That doesn’t mean those years were a waste, they’re just part of the trip — stepping stones to get you to the right place and realize who you really are. They also make these things possible — the experiences add to the background, and give you time and support to make the change.
She joins a group of other physicians who found their calling elsewhere, such as Graham Chapman or Michael Crichton. A nonmedical example is the renowned British astrophysicist, Sir Brian May.
I have no plans to leave medicine for another career. This fall will be 35 years since I started at Creighton Medical School, and I have no regrets. But if others have found something they enjoy more and are successful at, they have nothing to feel guilty about.
Good luck, friend.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.
A distant friend and I were recently chatting by email. After years of trying, she’s become a successful author, and decided to leave medicine to focus on the new career.
She’s excited about this, as it’s really what she’s always dreamed of doing, but at the same time feels guilty about it. Leaving medicine for a new career isn’t quite the same as quitting your job as a waitress or insurance salesman. You’ve put a lot of time, and effort, and money, into becoming an attending physician.
I also once dreamed of being a successful writer (amongst other things) but have no complaints about where I landed. I like what I do. Besides, I don’t have her kind of imagination.
It’s a valid point, though. Becoming a doc in practice takes a minimum of 4 years of college and 4 years of medical school. Then you tack on a residency of 3 years (internal medicine) to 7 years (neurosurgery). On top of that many add another 1-2 years for fellowship training. So you’re talking a bare minimum of at least 11 years, ranging up to 17 years.
Then you think of how much money was spent on college and medical school — tuition, living expenses, loan interest, not to mention the emotional toll of the training.
You also have to think that somewhere in there you got a chance to become a doctor while someone else didn’t.
So, I can see why she feels guilty, but she shouldn’t. She’s paid back all her loans, so no one else is left carrying the financial bag. The argument about denying someone else a spot can be kind of flimsy when you don’t know how that person might have turned out (the medical school dropout rate is 15%-18%).
Life is unpredictable. We often don’t really know what we want until we get there, and those journeys are rarely a straight line. That doesn’t mean those years were a waste, they’re just part of the trip — stepping stones to get you to the right place and realize who you really are. They also make these things possible — the experiences add to the background, and give you time and support to make the change.
She joins a group of other physicians who found their calling elsewhere, such as Graham Chapman or Michael Crichton. A nonmedical example is the renowned British astrophysicist, Sir Brian May.
I have no plans to leave medicine for another career. This fall will be 35 years since I started at Creighton Medical School, and I have no regrets. But if others have found something they enjoy more and are successful at, they have nothing to feel guilty about.
Good luck, friend.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.
A distant friend and I were recently chatting by email. After years of trying, she’s become a successful author, and decided to leave medicine to focus on the new career.
She’s excited about this, as it’s really what she’s always dreamed of doing, but at the same time feels guilty about it. Leaving medicine for a new career isn’t quite the same as quitting your job as a waitress or insurance salesman. You’ve put a lot of time, and effort, and money, into becoming an attending physician.
I also once dreamed of being a successful writer (amongst other things) but have no complaints about where I landed. I like what I do. Besides, I don’t have her kind of imagination.
It’s a valid point, though. Becoming a doc in practice takes a minimum of 4 years of college and 4 years of medical school. Then you tack on a residency of 3 years (internal medicine) to 7 years (neurosurgery). On top of that many add another 1-2 years for fellowship training. So you’re talking a bare minimum of at least 11 years, ranging up to 17 years.
Then you think of how much money was spent on college and medical school — tuition, living expenses, loan interest, not to mention the emotional toll of the training.
You also have to think that somewhere in there you got a chance to become a doctor while someone else didn’t.
So, I can see why she feels guilty, but she shouldn’t. She’s paid back all her loans, so no one else is left carrying the financial bag. The argument about denying someone else a spot can be kind of flimsy when you don’t know how that person might have turned out (the medical school dropout rate is 15%-18%).
Life is unpredictable. We often don’t really know what we want until we get there, and those journeys are rarely a straight line. That doesn’t mean those years were a waste, they’re just part of the trip — stepping stones to get you to the right place and realize who you really are. They also make these things possible — the experiences add to the background, and give you time and support to make the change.
She joins a group of other physicians who found their calling elsewhere, such as Graham Chapman or Michael Crichton. A nonmedical example is the renowned British astrophysicist, Sir Brian May.
I have no plans to leave medicine for another career. This fall will be 35 years since I started at Creighton Medical School, and I have no regrets. But if others have found something they enjoy more and are successful at, they have nothing to feel guilty about.
Good luck, friend.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.