Franklin (Frank) Warsh MD MPH
Once upon a time, I was a really bright kid from Toronto who was convinced I'd make a really decent doctor. With a gift for math and a stroke of luck, I made it into medical school. I studied hard, worked not-quite-as-hard, landed a girl, survived the shitshow of residency, started a family, and embarked on a promising career in Family Medicine, throwing in some ER and Public Health work for good measure. From the south shore of Nova Scotia to the heartland of Ontario, I amassed a ton of great stories, tragic and comic alike, and should have lived happily ever after. Should have.
There are thousands upon thousands of doctors and other health professionals who describe themselves as being at least partly burned out, and a good number of those have seriously considered moving to a different country, job-sharing, or taking early retirement from burnout.
I've been there - twice - and lived to tell the tale.
I left clinical practice for the second time at the age of 42, anticipating it would be temporary but now certain it won't. I now keep my foot in medicine's door as an Investigating Coroner, writer/blogger, and podcaster. What can I say? Sometimes the call to enter medicine might just be a wrong number.
I now live in London, Ontario with my wife, two children, and rather malodorous pets. When I can steal time from the laundry, the lawn, and the laptop, I persevere in the quest to bake a patisserie-quality macaron. It's an arduous quest indeed.