Your Voice: Not the ending I had imagined

Stephanie Pearson, MD, FACOG

About the author: Stephanie Pearson, MD, FACOG, is a board-certified OB/GYN, educator, and visionary advocate for physician well-being based in the Philadelphia area. After a shoulder injury during a critical deliver yended her medical practice, she redirected her passion towards helping fellow physicians. Recognizing the critical importance of Disability and Life Insurance, Stephanie co-founded PearsonRavitz, an insurance brokerage and advisory firm serving all 50 states.

I always pictured myself working in the operating room until I was in my 80s, when a nurse would lean over and whisper, “Dr Pearson, maybe it’s time to retire.” I’d flash a wry smile, finish my last stitch, and then go out with a grand finale: a massive myocardial infarction at the table. Instead, life had other plans. I was only 40 years old, in the prime of my career, when I sustained a career-ending injury that changed everything.

It was a routine day when I was called to assist with a precipitous delivery for one of my favorite patients, but things quickly escalated. As a Gravida 4, Para 3, this baby should have been delivered easily; however, the patient began climbing up the bed with panic in her eyes, unable to follow instructions. I had a team of nurses trying to assist with positioning to help her have a safe delivery. I looked at the fetal monitor and noticed the baby’s heart rate dropped into the 40s. I knew we had to act fast. The nurses held her legs, and I positioned myself and placed the vacuum on the fetal head to help guide the baby out. Then, without warning, she kicked me—hard.

That kick jolted my arm, hitting directly in the brachial plexus. My arm went numb, but I still had a job to do. Thinking I was doing myself a favor, I angled my body to the side. As I got the widest part of the baby’s abdomen out, I got kicked a second time. This time, the kick came across my shoulder, and I felt a pop. Something was very wrong, but I couldn’t stop; I had to finish the delivery.

Later, I learned I had torn my labrum. My first orthopedic surgeon dismissed my pain and said, “Professional baseball pitchers pitch with torn labrums; you can handle it.” So, I put my head down and tried to power through, compensating however I could—until I couldn’t anymore. I developed adhesive capsulitis. I could not get my arm to maneuver how I needed it to perform my job safely. My next surgeon assured me that I’d be back at work within 12 weeks after surgery. That was more than 11 years ago.

Grieving the life I lost

When you’re forced to walk away from something you love, profound grief sets in. My career was more than a job; it was my identity. Without it, I felt lost. Who was I, if not Dr Pearson? It was a painful journey to rediscover my sense of self outside of medicine. Grieving isn’t just for the loss of loved ones; we grieve dreams, identities, and futures that are no longer possible. Acknowledging the life I’d lost was the first step toward healing.

Takeaway: If facing a similar transition, permit yourself to grieve. Mourning isn’t a weakness; it’s the process of letting go.

Seeking help and building resilience

After surgery, depression settled in, and feelings of inadequacy crept into every area of my life—as a physician, a mother, and a wife. It took time, therapy, and the unwavering support of my husband and children to pull me out. I engaged with a therapist, a safe space where I could process the loss and find a path forward. When things got dark, my grief tried to convince me that my family would be better off without me. In these tough moments, I leaned into my support system. My husband brought home a puppy and told me that he and the boys (who were 4 and 6 years old at the time) were not enough to get me out of bed. I had a choice to be surrounded by filth or get up and take care of something that could not take care of itself. That dog helped save my life. I had a new purpose.

Takeaway: Seek help, whether it’s through therapy, coaching, or trusted friends. There’s no single correct way to heal, but you don’t have to do it alone. Find the support that works for you.

Finding a community

Isolation is one of the hardest parts of losing a career. In the medical community, we rarely discuss how vulnerable we are to this possibility. A 2019 study published in JAMA reported that nearly 40% of women physicians either leave medicine or go part-time within 6 years of finishing residency, mostly due to family obligations or personal health issues.¹ Where were all these women? I felt like I was the only one. I found a new purpose in creating a Facebook community where physicians could share their stories and find solidarity. It became a judgment-free zone, a place for support and empathy.

Takeaway: Don’t wait to find your support network—create it if you need to. Community is a powerful source of healing, especially for those of us who often feel the need to be “strong” all the time. The tyranny of perfection that exists in medicine must change.

Rediscovering self-worth beyond the title

In medicine, we’re conditioned to tie our worth to our roles. My career was a major part of my life; without it, I struggled to see my value. Slowly, I learned that being Dr Pearson wasn’t the only part of me worth celebrating. At the dog park, I was simply “Kim’s mom.” No one knew my job title, and surprisingly, it was liberating. Caring for her, taking her on walks, and attending playdates became my way of stepping outside my own thoughts. I had to redefine what an “accomplishment” meant—spending time with my children, learning to cook new recipes, and rediscovering simple joys. I could still be of value, but it was now on my terms.

Takeaway: Separate your identity from your job title. Your accomplishments don’t define you—your character does. Find activities and interests outside of work that remind you of your value.

Finding new purpose

One of the hardest questions I had to ask myself was: What now? We’re taught to define success so narrowly, and stepping away from medicine felt like a failure. However, I gradually started exploring new avenues. I tried medical editing, malpractice defense, and consulting, but nothing felt right. I then found my way to insurance, where I could continue serving the medical community by educating physicians on disability insurance, which is a subject painfully close to my heart. I thought I did everything right, but sheer ignorance caused a few costly mistakes. I did not fully understand the disability policy I had bought. It was not a true own-occupation policy, and I had not kept pace with my income. I could not be the only physician who felt that they had not been properly educated or serviced. Stepping into this work allowed me to educate and advocate for others so they wouldn’t feel as unprepared as I had been.

Takeaway: Explore what fulfills you. Even if your first attempts don’t lead to a new career, they will guide you closer to what feels right. Experiment, be patient, and let purpose unfold naturally.

Crafting your legacy

Through it all, I thought about the legacy I wanted to leave behind. I didn’t want my children to remember me as someone who gave up. I wanted them to be proud of who I was and who I was becoming. I wanted my husband to see me as resilient, a partner who adapted to life’s challenges. I also wanted to live a life of service, however different that life looked now.

Takeaway: Ask yourself: What do I want my legacy to be? Let this question guide you. Your legacy isn’t just your career—it’s how you respond to life’s trials and show up for the people you love and, most importantly, yourself.

Life may not look the way I’d once imagined. I’m still Dr Pearson, just in a different capacity, perhaps a deeper one. My journey didn’t go according to plan, but along the way, I found strength I didn’t know I had and a purpose that feels truer than I ever imagined.

Reference:

1. Frank E, Zhao Z, Sen S, Guille C. Gender disparities in work and parental status among early career physicians. JAMA Netw Open. 2019;2(8):e198340. doi:10.1001/jamanetworkopen.2019.8340