LIVING THE DREAM
Three years ago, Jared Manwaring, M.D., a younger, brighter, and much better-looking urologist showed up and I gradually turned my practice over to him. His being new, hot, and fast contrasted with my being older, colder, and slower. However, we did share some distinct similarities. He is a local kid who married a local girl and went to the east coast for a first-class urology residency — returning to Idaho, in part, to stay married. Both of us served two-year missions for the church and shared the same values. We worked together for a little over one year in the same office. I stuck around, thinking he may need my help getting started, but that never happened. Two months before I retired, I asked him how he would feel if I stopped coming to the office. He surprised me with his lack of disappointment when he told me it was a good idea. After that, I became a “free range” urologist, following my dreams, and only saw my patients when I ran into them at Broulim’s or Home Depot.
Earlier in my practice, I remember thinking that if my ship came in, I could move to Island Park and spend my days chasing MK around the cabin. When I stopped practicing medicine, I moved to Island Park and tried living the dream, only to discover that MK didn’t want to get caught. As I watched others retire, I found that I am not the only one who planned to do one thing in retirement and ended up doing something else.
One of my patients had a similar experience. Larry retired from real estate about ten years before his wife, Mary Ann, who was about 7 years younger. She was an excellent nurse and enjoyed being in charge of a busy surgical department. On the other hand, Larry became fully retired and spent his days' golfing and fishing. He looked forward to Mary Ann retiring so they could have more time to spend together. With a big voice, was larger than life, quick-witted, and full of fun. He dressed up whenever he came to my office and wore too much cologne, white dress slacks, and the obligatory “I am retired” white patent leather belt. He stood out, with white wavy hair and his big voice. He was well-groomed, and tanned, and remained stylish even when his health deteriorated. Larry was one of those jovial, but difficult patients who didn't help their doctor with a good history. He would tell me that he didn't feel well. I would ask him what was hurting. His response would be, "I don't know, you're the doctor."
A few years before his health deteriorated, Larry came to the office alone one afternoon and reported that Mary Ann had finally retired as nursing director. He told me that they had purchased a Winnebago land yacht and would soon be leaving on a luxury cruise around the country — living the dream. He told me they would be gone as long as they wanted, and figured that they would be away for at least six months.
Six weeks later Larry was sitting in my office. I asked him, “How was the road trip?” Vacantly, he looked up at the ceiling, and said, “Just the two of us, six weeks, twenty-four, seven.” Then he described backing the Winnebago into the driveway of their home. As he told the story, he held his hands up to an imaginary steering wheel, glancing from side to side as if looking at big, imaginary rear-view motor home mirrors. He continued acting like he was backing up and quoted Mary Ann, who was still sitting in the passenger seat, “Larry, I’ve been thinking about it, and I have decided to go back to work part-time.” He said, “I think that would be a good idea.”
Larry passed away in 2016. Mary Ann tells me that her going back to work was his idea. That sounds like Larry -- living the dream.
Ever vigilant,
RT
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