It’s been two years since I wrote a thank you note to my primary care physician for taking such good care of me. This week, I wrote another.
It turns out that my decision to retire has been harder on me than I anticipated. My body let me know that this is not an easy transition by hitting me with a serious bout of insomnia. I reluctantly emailed my doctor who agreed to give me a prescription for sleeping pills. A couple of solid nights of sleep really helped.
Tuesday evening he called me at home to see how I was doing. He reminded me that I have worked ten years longer than most people, giving me more time to tie my identity to my career and make it harder to leave. He told me that most retirees spend a year adjusting, and that I needed to own up to needing some time. He suggested that throwing myself into a demanding academic program at my advanced age might be too much. (We’ll see.) He accused me of being an overachiever. (He could be right.)
Our conversation was keeping him from his evening. But he took the time to tell me what I needed to know. And I have slept without the help of pills since.
That’s why this is a shout-out to my PCP.