A funny thing happened as I was preparing to write my column
this month. After two weeks of writing utter gibberish, hitting the “delete
all” button, and staring for the fifth or sixth time at a blank screen, I threw
up my hands in surrender. How could I not have anything inspiring to say on the
first month of a new year? Now, more than ever, I should be especially
inspired. If I can’t come up with something useful to write about in January,
I’m going to have real trouble in the 11 months that follow!
Enter our esteemed contributor and editorial board member,
Marc Bloomenstein, O.D. Clearly, he must have been an English major in a
previous life because his
feature this month weaves together the stories of—get
this—Abraham Lincoln and today’s refractive surgery market! Bravo, Dr.
Bloomenstein. If you ever get bored practicing optometry—though I doubt you
will, given your active imagination—we have a great 9-to-5 gig waiting for you
here at Review.
There is so much pressure in January to aspire to greater
things in the year ahead. Need proof? Read
Dr. Vickers’ Chairside column this
month. He’s got 22 resolutions for
2010. Um, thanks doc—no pressure following that. In truth, just as the apple
drops, our motivations rise as we scramble to find new ways to improve our
lives in the New Year. Well, not me. At least not this year. As it turns out,
I’ve hit a brick wall.
Normally, I would consider this a bad thing. But, I just
finished reading The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch, Ph.D. The book is based on a
talk, called “Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams,” which the
computer scientist professor-turned-best-selling author gave in the final
months of his life.
Dr. Pausch talks a lot about brick walls in his book. But,
in essence, he thinks they are one of life’s great gifts, because, he says,
brick walls are not there to keep us out, but rather to show us how badly we
want something. This got me thinking about the brick walls in my own life.
For most of my adulthood, I’ve carried around the same
worn-out spiral-bound notepad. It’s not a journal per se. I don’t chronicle my
days on its pages, nor do I list my modest achievements. Instead, I devote one
page to each area of my life that needs improvement. I started the notebook
shortly after I graduated from college. In other words, I had an overwhelming number
of aspirations and resolutions right from the very start. And, with the passage
of many years, the list grew and grew. It is now completely overwhelming. So
much so, that it has become my brick wall. How can I possibly aspire to
anything new this year when so much remains undone? Before I can move ahead, I
need to scale this wall.
The optometry profession, likewise, has no shortage of brick
walls—to say nothing of those you face in your personal life. There are worries
about healthcare reform and the poor economy. There are stricter PhRMA
guidelines and the potential for fewer sponsorship dollars devoted to reducing
the cost of CE courses. And then, there’s board certification. Any one of these
things might make you shake your head and wonder why you ever decided to
practice optometry.
I’m not going to sit here and tell you that shrinking
reimbursements will make you a better doctor. Obviously, the correlation is not
nearly that direct. But, these obstacles may very well inspire you and your
peers to find smarter ways to practice. For example, if the cost of CE comes at
a higher premium, it only stands to reason that you will expect more from the
lecturer, which translates into higher quality programs. There is always a
bright side; you just need to be motivated enough to look for it. That’s where
brick walls can help.
What Dr. Bloomenstein does not know is that, as a freshman
in college, I took a course on political speechwriting and, in fact, it was
reading Abraham Lincoln’s great words that compelled me to become a journalist.
Dr. Bloomenstein begins his article this month by saying “Inspiration comes
from unlikely sources.” Indeed. Thanks, doctor, for being mine.