Lessons From a Retirement Card: What Will They Say About You?

Though it's the start of a new academic year (or, as my brilliant colleague, Dr. Allison Weatherly, recently called it, “ACGME transition season”), I’ve been thinking about endings.

Specifically, I’ve been thinking about the retirement of another wonderful colleague, Dr. Jim Johns. Jim has been an institution at, well, our institution. He is sharp, accomplished, thoughtful, and, above all, unfailingly kind.

When I sat down to write his retirement card, I didn’t dwell on the thousands of patients he’s treated, the impressive length of his CV, or the countless call nights he’s taken. What stood out most was his kindness. That’s what I wanted to thank him for.

It got me wondering: what will people say about me when I retire?

Thinking about endings before they arrive isn’t morbid when it’s intentional. In fact, it’s a well-worn practice across cultures and belief systems. In Mexico, Día de los Muertos maintains a vibrant connection to the dead. Buddhists engage in maranasati, mindfulness of death, to deepen their awareness of impermanence. Sufis practice dhikr al-mawt, remembering death as a way to purify the soul. And Stoics, well, let’s just say they’ve got the market cornered on death meditation. (Kidding. Kind of.)

Ron Shaich, founder of Panera Bread, brought the practice into corporate America with his annual “pre-mortem.” Around his birthday, he writes his own obituary - not as a grim exercise, but as a tool to clarify what really matters. Then he reverse-engineers his goals for the year ahead to align with that vision. Psychologist Gary Klein, who coined the term “pre-mortem” in decision-making, uses a similar strategy to identify potential failures and work backward to avoid them.

In medicine, we live and breathe pre-mortems. We imagine failing tests, so we study harder. We imagine missing out on med school, so we overachieve. We picture our patients deteriorating, so we preemptively examine, test, treat, and counsel. We're trained to think in worst-case scenarios. And yet, many of us live the rest of our lives on autopilot: drifting from task to task, season to season, without stopping to ask where we actually want to go.

So, what do I want people to say about me when I retire?

That I was someone you could count on.

That I helped shoulder the load when it got heavy.

That I lifted spirits when morale was low.

That I was patient.

And above all, that I was kind.

If I’m feeling brave, I can go one step further: what would I want my obituary to say?

Right now, I worry it might just say, “She went through a lot.”

That’s not enough. That’s not who I want to be.

It’s time to reverse-engineer. Not from the worst-case scenario, but from the best-case one. From the life I’d be proud to have lived.

So if you’re setting goals this July amid your own ACGME transitions, try starting from the end. Picture June 30, 2026. What would make you proud to say you accomplished in AY26? Maybe it’s something professional. Maybe it’s personal. Maybe it’s a mix of both.

And who knows? Maybe this is the year you finally give Stoicism a shot.