BLOG: Musings on birthdays and retirement
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Last week, April 20th, was my 64th birthday.
When I arrived at the clinic that day, I found a surprise on the board. With the help of Google Translate, our clinic staff had written the words for “happy birthday” and “celebrate” in Arabic! It was such a nice gesture.
I share my birthday with my daughter, Malak, who has turned 25 this April: So, we were both born on April 20, 39 years apart! Malak was thus my special birthday present in 1998, the year she was born.
When one receives a text message on his/her birthday with a birthday wish, the usual reply is “Thank you very much.”
Well, I got such a text on my birthday from Malak. So, my reply was: “Same to you, Habeebty” with an emoji. How rare it is to reply like this to birthday greetings! “Habeebty” is the Arabic word for “my love.”
April 20th was supposed to be the birthday of my grandson, Mohammed, who is turning 4 years old this April. But Mohammed decided not to be born on the expected date of delivery and arrived a week later.
I have encountered numerous people sharing their birthday with me and Malak, especially amongst my patients. Once I open the medical record of a patient, the first thing I look at is the name and date of birth (for ID verification). When I spot a patient who shares my birthday, I mention it to the patient, and we start a conversation about it. This is a wonderful opening of a clinic visit, which in my opinion strengthens clinical empathy and doctor-patient relationship.
This year, I have recently found another person who shares the birthday with Malak and me. A few months ago, I went to the bank. When I gave my driver’s license to the bank teller, the young woman kept looking at the license as she was entering the information in the computer — and she was smiling.
Then she looked at me and said: “April 20th?”
I said “yes” and added, “Is it also your birthday?”
She said that it was, and we had the usual same-birthday conversation.
Then last week on April 20th, I went the bank. As I entered, that employee immediately remembered me. She stopped and shook hands, marveling at the coincidence of meeting again on our shared birthday. We smiled and wished each other a happy birthday!
At the professional level, April marks the number of my years of service at Michigan State University. Last April marked 15 years of service, and thus my eligibility for early retirement. I wrote in a blog post:
“This April does mark a milestone for me, a milestone in my career. This April, I have become eligible for retirement from Michigan State University. Last August, I received the standard notification letter from the dean announcing my eligibility for retirement. Am I feeling too old? Is it time to retire? I am not sure. It is bitter-sweet feeling!”
I did not retire.
There is a severe shortage of endocrinology providers in my division, both physicians and midlevel providers. Over the last 3 to 4 years, we have lost three endocrinologists and an endocrine nurse practitioner. With only two teaching attendings remaining (my associate and I), our fellowship quota was cut down by one fellow, because the attending-to-fellow ratio became insufficient at 1:1.5.
And this problem is not limited to us. Shortage of endocrinologists is a national problem. While shortage of providers is a national problem across specialties, it remains specialty-specific: Some specialties suffer from such shortages more than others. Across the nation, the epidemics of diabetes and obesity, as well as the high prevalence of thyroid diseases and osteoporosis require large numbers of endocrinologists to manage them.
So, when will I retire?
I am not sure. Recruiting new providers will remain an issue that I will continue to strive for before I decide about retirement.
And, the usual question: What would I do when I quit medicine? I will discuss this in a future post, perhaps a third part of this series.
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