The King Is Dead – Long Live The King

As you, know I'm retired. I don't mean “tired again,” but that I no longer work in my previous profession. I used to be a radiologist, involved in teaching and in administration as well as actually practicing in the medical field (I couldn't choose between “art” and “science” so I used “field;” you decide between them or reject them both for another term). Many of my colleagues, and others, ask me what I now do with my time. They'll keep on doing what they've always done because they can't imagine doing anything else.

When I was born, during the (Franklin) Roosevelt administration, the average lifespan for a man was about 65 years and Social Security was keyed to that age. If you lived beyond that point you could collect a government pension – one to which you'd been contributing during your working years. It wasn't all that much but you were old and wouldn't need the money for very long. And you wouldn't have to occupy yourself for very long.

The times, however, are a changin.' People now live far longer, and the average American lives into his late seventies (or her eighties) with more and more living past the century mark. And that seems to change everything. More people are collecting Social Security and fewer are paying for it. Sooner of later something is going to collapse, but that's the next generation's problem if no solution is found. I'll let them worry about it.

Anyway, that's not the reason I'm writing. My main interest is in the questions I've been asked. Those who have not taken the big step, because they're too young, economically unable, or frightened wonder what I do with all of my time. My productive life is over, and I have gone out to pasture. “What do you do with your time?” The assumption is that my profession defined me. It was my life. And now it's over. That's true for many of them but not for me. They'll work until they drop. Or, as I said in the first paragraph, “They'll keep on doing what they've always done because they can't imagine doing anything else.” But I can, and I did.

In one respect I agree with them; my productive life is over – at least if you define it as the time spent earning a salary by providing a service for humanity (or whoever else is around). Social Security, my pension, and my savings provide for me in my “golden years.” Perhaps they're not as golden as they're cracked up to be (I think I addressed that issue a few years ago and perhaps I'll do so again, but not now) but, as a character in a Monty Python (movie – Monty Python and the Holy Grail) said, “I'm not dead. … I don't want to go on the [corpse] cart.”

And I don't agree that my productive years are over in the sense that there are other things I can produce besides x-ray interpretations – like these essays. Perhaps I was a better radiologist than I am a writer, but I get a good deal of satisfaction over setting the world right. No one may pay any attention, but (I've convinced myself that) I'm right and I have all the answers. And, since no one pays any attention, no one disputes my claim.

To a degree, these essays are my new life. They inspire reading and research as well as the writing, and they occupy more time than I have available. They're what I do with my time.

For many years I'd start projects which I never finished because I lacked the time to complete them. But that life is over. As a radiologist I'm dead. That death, however, was the beginning of a new life. (I don't know if my wife is happy that I'm home more now, but she's still working so we don't get in each other's way too often.) I have drawers full of started projects and accumulated notes to myself concerning ideas I'd like to develop. And I keep thinking of more all the time, writing them down and stuffing them in a pocket. I spent my entire working life preparing for my retirement, but I didn't know it at the time.

I enjoyed life as a radiologist. It was a lot of fun and I think I did a good job at it. As corny as it sounds, I think I actually helped people – both my patients and my students. But that time is past. That life is over. And the answer to the loss of an old life is the beginning of a new one. Prepare yourself. If you have something to do, your new life will be a blast.

January 16, 2017