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January 2003
Volume 67
Number 1

Ventilations


Mark J. Lema, M.D.

Mark J. Lema, M.D., Ph.D. Editor




Life After Anesthesiology


Travel, tennis, golf, fishing and relaxation. Most overworked anesthesiologists may be dreaming of a time when they can put away their laryngoscopes and retire. The thought of enough free time to fulfill one’s every whim seems unrealistic and even unnatural to the battle-fatigued professional.

Consider, however, that most if not all anesthesiologists are action people. Daily life consists of a series of deadlines, timetables and successful outcomes. A weary but professional satisfaction is often felt after a full day’s work. So, is it possible that these visions of sugar plum lazy days may conversely make many former anesthesiologists restless and unsatisfied? I often wonder if the first day of true retirement is exhilarating or depressing. Can one really stop thinking like a doctor, and will friends cease to ask for one’s sage medical advice?

I would like to share with you an essay written by one of our more illustrious colleagues who, in Robert Frost style, took the road less traveled. Peter L. McDermott, M.D., Ph.D., past ASA President, retired only to enroll in a Ph.D. program. It is a delightful account that just may get a few more anesthesiologists contemplating advanced degrees in Mandarin or metallurgy. For me, I might just return to studying Latin and Greek.

– M.J.L.

The Road …Less Traveled

After 30 years as an anesthesiologist, it occurred to me that I would probably be around for 30 more. Another 30 years of night call? Of juggling schedules and managing personalities? Why not, I thought, revisit one of those once-possible alternatives to a career in medicine? Would it be

Mark J. Lema, M.D.

Peter L. McDermott, M.D., Ph.D.



possible for a grandfather in his sixth decade to refashion himself in a new discipline? I decided to take a small bite by enrolling in an evening course in Asian history at a local university. This was a good test to discover if I had any residual learning potential. I knew almost nothing about Asian history, and after my old college transcripts were obtained (on clay tablets), I joined a class composed in large part of Asian students. I did well and enjoyed myself enormously. Over the next three years, I finished undergraduate studies with honors in history and received my B.A. in June 1992. The only blemish on my record was a B+ in pottery. Fervor was, apparently, no substitute for talent. I forgot to say that I sneaked into medical school without a degree back in the 1950s, so a bachelor’s degree was step one.

I took the next school year off — we college types need and deserve time to travel and find ourselves after squandering our parents’ money. Also, I was ASA President that year [1993] and was very busy visiting the faithful, managing the affairs of state, testifying before Congress and leading the occasional symphony orchestra. When I started graduate school at the University of California-Santa Barbara in 1993, it goes without saying that I was the oldest graduate student in the department. I was also older than all but a handful of the faculty.

Moving from my old tribe to a new one was a culture shock. Historians do not process information the same way physicians and other scientists do, so a certain amount of intellectual reformatting was necessary. In addition, there was no way a vintage physician could be buddies with 20-ish graduate students or participate on an equal basis with faculty members who had earned their stripes and developed a brotherhood (and sisterhood) of collegiality. There was, therefore, a bit of distance, but not necessarily isolation, in the relationships of the old guy and the players in the new discipline. And there was just a hint of resentment and distrust: resentment that someone from another profession would have the luxury of entering another scholarly enterprise and suspicion that that my motives were those of a dilettante or other kind of self-indulgent amateur.

I took the classes, participated in the seminars, wrote the research papers, mastered Latin once again, taught a few classes and published two articles in historical journals. I took no short cuts and received no special considerations. In September 2002, I was awarded a Ph.D. I am once again engaged in a job search.

I think we live long enough for two careers. Sometimes inertia, fear of failing or a lack of imagination may sequester us in the comfort of familiar routines. Except for the precious few who die slumped over a gas machine, most anesthesiologists retire at some point. It is important to retire into something not from something. Plan your next move. Avoid mirrors — they lie. There is still a kid inside most of us. Golf, cruises, bridge and birding have their place, but they are not enough for the hungry mind. A banquet awaits!



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