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My exit ramp from medicine

One day, I was full of moderate despair, overworked, befuddled by the EHR with a tinge of burnout, staring at my computer, I treated myself to something I’ve not done before. It was my 62nd birthday that day, and I gave myself a birthday present. Before rising from that swivel chair, I had written down on a sticky pad the day that would be my retirement date, exactly one year after the expiration of my contract which I would be willing to extend no more than another year. We try to keep ourselves productive in life because it is finite. Having my professional years identifiably finite would keep the remaining time focused on the things wish I had done but didn’t. Contract renewal came...

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