The Secret to Keeping Your Spark in Medicine (and Reducing Burn Out)
Some days are hard. Try these tips on those days...
Burnout. If you are in any profession with long hours, heavy workload, high responsibility and high risks, burnout is almost inevitable. Attorneys, dentists, teachers, and especially us healthcare providers are most vulnerable. I’ve seen so many great physicians leave the field due to burnout. Heck, most of my physician colleagues tell me they dread going to work most days. My text threads from medical school and residency friends these days are mostly group commiserations about daily irritations in the life of a doctor.
What do we do when we lose our sparkle for our profession? Though I’ve certainly not found a magic bullet, I do rely on two simple practices to refill my purpose cup when it’s going dry:
Pursue non-traditional avenues.
There are many ways to give back to our patients, educate our fellow providers, and enhance the healthcare system that do not involve direct patient care. I find that when I write about medicine (like now), do public speaking gigs about medicine (podcasts, radio, TV), or mentor other providers, I rediscover my enthusiasm. The world is hungry to hear more about what we do, how we do it, and what others need to know to improve their daily lives. Writing, speaking, and mentoring are great ways to use your medical knowledge and training to give back to the world while renewing your passion for what you do best. These avenues are powerful reminders that our knowledge and work is important. It does make a difference.
me being silly doing media stuff
Remember how badly you’ve always wanted this.
When I have those really exhausting 15 or more patient days- the days when prescription requests, portal messages, and FMLA paperwork are never ending- I close my eyes and try to remember all of the times growing up when ALL I hoped and wished and dreamed about was becoming a doctor. I think of the long summers when my mother drove me in our old green 1990s minivan one hour each way to the local hospital to volunteer as a candy striper. I think of all the late weekend nights I spent in college working at the local student health clinic to get more exposure to medicine. I think of the grueling hours I spent studying for organic chemistry exams, MCAT practice tests, and physic midterms in preparation for medical school. I think of all the people who did not believe in me-who belittled my doctor hopes. There was an older, head nurse at my work study program in college who looked at me dismissively, saying, “You’re a girl. You’re from the south. You will never be a doctor.” There was my college advisor, Dr. Jacobi, who looked at me skeptically and said, “You’re an English major. Are you sure you are smart enough to ace the science classes needed for medical school? Don’t want to become a teacher, instead?” I think of those who did believe in me, cheering me on from the sidelines, like my 97-year-old grandmother who said, “Lauren: Don’t slow down to marry or have babies until you have an MD behind your name. Men will always be there. Opportunities will not.” (I took her advice.) I think of my pink t-shirt from medical school that says, “Be the doctor your parents always wanted you to marry.” I think of the late nights I spent in the Gross Anatomy lab in medical school alone with my cadaver, Charlie, struggling to learn the names of every muscle, every fiber, every tendon in this amazing masterpiece we call the human body.
Me owning the doctor thing like a bad ass
I think of all these sacrifices. I pull each of them up in bright, vivid memory technicolor and examine them carefully. Admire how far I’ve come. In that light, my current healthcare frustrations of the day fade away. And I marvel, “Damn! I made it. I’m here!” I finally got to the end of the long, winding, often faded and potholed yellow brick road. This is the Emerald City. I’m doing it. I’m living the dream. I’m pulling out all the stops. The dream that many never realize. The realized destination that most only dream of but never arrive at. Not a dream deferred- but a bold ambition finally achieved. And my friend- you are living yours, too.