Why this physician quit her job

So last week, I did the bravest thing I have done in a very long time — I quit my job. Yes, I put in my 60-day notice. This was my dream job post service in the U.S. Air Force. I had dreamed of working in this establishment for months before my service time was up. I could not have been happier when I joined their team, a group practice enjoying every specialty I could ask or hope for. Coming from a private solo practice with little or no subspecialty support, then joining the U.S. Air Force, serving four years, and getting a taste of a “giant” practice with all kinds of specialties at your disposal, my current employer was the only other place I wanted to go to after my time on active duty. I found a perfect combo of indigent population, military dependents, the insured and access to specialists for my patients.

With my love for foreign languages (I speak six languages, one of them Spanish), I marveled at the opportunity to practice my Spanish on their large indigent non-English speaking population. I had my very own brand-new building in a brand-new location, with a chance to build my own patient following fast, a feat that I performed easily to the tune of 136 percent productivity at the peak of winter; thus, becoming one of the top-producing providers working there.

My superiors were kind enough to allow me to set a flexible schedule that permitted me to enroll for an MBA at the local university, a benefit I am enjoying from my veteran status. I was even able to negotiate an enviable salary, one that I remember my then 17-year-old son had insisted I “negotiate like a man,” and I think I did a pretty good job. We work weekdays only, no weekends, our call rotations consist of only telephone coverage for one week every three or four months. I got an opportunity to precept family practice interns from our local medical school, another very enjoyable benefit I had craved after leaving my graduate medical education program at the Air Force. Life, for the most part, was great, so why did I put in my two-month notice last week, you ask? Well, I found my passion, my calling: depressed teens.