Downsizing my practice wasn’t an easy decision

After COVID played all kinds of games with us, exhausted our bodies and nerves, I started feeling like those years had been stolen from us and made us all age faster without us knowing it. I tried to deceive myself and pretended to be blind to my new gray hairs and my wrinkles. But these years were harsher than I imagined; they bared their teeth every day and insisted on telling me sometimes quite loudly: “What is left is shorter than what you have lived, and there is no longer room for pain, anxiety and running after others’ comfort.” Those years insisted on giving me grief, telling me sentences like: “You have forgotten yourself, your family and spent most of your life between stethoscopes, blood pressure devices, charts and patients.” “It’s time to rest because you were in a race—and maybe that’s how you chose to be.” “You don’t need to look in the mirror, just listen to your body.” Yes, it was a harsh and sad monologue; those years seemed to go so fast and without any mercy. Read: Dr. Jabir Jassam: What if we could rate our patients and colleagues? Pandemic lessons The pandemic taught me that excessive optimism becomes toxic when it is prolonged and has no solid foundations to support and strengthen it. It taught me that a smile may become tiring when it is unreal—especially if its purpose is only to make others happy. Yes, we are tired of illogical optimism and fake smiles, therefore it is time for me to put on my glasses and see things clearly and feel my body and see and count the locations of my pain. I love my job but I love my family more and I have to love myself as well. I, in the past, did not hesitate to cancel anything related to the family if it interfered with my work, but now I discovered my mistake because when I became tired, there was no one around me but my family. I used to spend most of my day in the clinic, but when I felt tired, no one tried to comfort me but my family. I am glad that I realized that now. It is never too late. It is better to discover it today than tomorrow. Better this year than next year, and any time better than never. I was talking to a doctor who graduated this year and asked him if he would like to work with us and join our group. He looked at me, laughed and said: “Do you think I am crazy like you guys?” I said: “Are we crazy?” That young doctor seemed to be saying: “We see your suffering so ‘no way, we, young doctors, are going to do what you do.’” I realized that the time had come for me to make one of my most difficult and painful decisions: to reduce my practice and the number of my patients and I did so and followed the college rules and policies in how to do so. With much pain and sorrow, I decided to end my relationship with a large number of patients by random selection—but only those patients who are healthy. Although we try as much as we can to be professional and treat our patients with fairness and equality, we cannot deny that we have unforgettable memories and happy moments with some of them and that they bring happiness and joy when they come to the clinic. The random selection was callous and cruel because it chose some names of those who I’d have never thought I would one day leave—but I had no choice but to include them with that painful decision. Some of them tried to send personal messages asking me to reconsider my decision but I could not because that would strip away the randomness of the process. However, some of them understandably acted out by writing harsh comments on the internet, Here I am today, a month later after that decision and action. I still feel daily headache, lack of sleep and remorse, but my only consolation is that, after today I can give more time to those who are really sick, old and to those who take a large number of medications, and my family will certainly have some of this time and attention. I hope that I will soon be headache free and able to sleep better because I now know an obvious truth: what I have lived is more than I have left. Dr. Jabir Jassam is a family physician in Ottawa.

Downsizing my practice wasn’t an easy decision

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