This June was my 20-year anniversary of finishing residency, and next June I’ll turn 50, and in both cases, I’ll no longer be considered mid-career—I can’t check the prime “25- to 49-year-old” box that advertisers love, and I’ll need to identify myself as >20 years postresidency or “late career” on hospital engagement surveys.
Explore This Issue
November 2022This month also marks the next-to-last issue I’ll edit. After five great years, I’ll retire at the end of December from my physician editor post. Many have asked why I’ve decided to give up this wonderful job, and my answer is simple: To stay relevant, I feel the need to reinvent myself.
I’ve spent my entire career in academic medicine, and there are certain landmarks that let you know you’ve made it: 1) an office with a private bathroom, 2) being called “Prof” by a European or Australian colleague, and 3) chairing a search committee for an institutional leader. Before the pandemic, I led a search for our medical school’s executive dean, when dinners presented a fantastic opportunity to get to know some of the most inspiring, accomplished academic physicians. One of those candidates made a great impression on me.
She was a pediatrics department chair from the West Coast who held multiple R01s, served on several corporate and civic boards, and was happily married for 30 years with two successful children. I asked her how she remained hungry after all she’d already accomplished. She replied, “We need to keep reinventing ourselves to stay relevant. What we did yesterday is old news. Is the person you were yesterday capable of being newsworthy tomorrow?”
Later that night, I thought about what she had said. She was so right. Think of all the legendary athletes, actors, and leaders who changed their game and stayed great. Michael Jordan became a back-to-the-basket player at 30. Serena Williams no longer overpowered her opponents but out-thought them. Tom Hanks was originally a comedian before becoming our generation’s best dramatic actor. And Bill Gates is trying to cure world hunger.
What does this mean for me? I’m still practicing rhinology and serving as department chair, but I have a strong desire to make a broader impact on our communities. I, along with 15 other colleagues around the country, am spearheading a collaborative to study and fight health inequities in otolaryngology. After 18 months of planning, the Center for Health Care Innovation and Transformative Care at the University of Kansas will launch, with me as the scientific executive director. Digital transformation, wearable technologies, and ideas for product commercialization will take up much of my academic time, and I’m energized to learn more.