Twenty-one years. 
If you had told me when I first started that I would still feel excited to walk into the office two decades later, I’m not sure I would have believed you. Not because I didn’t love the profession—but because I didn’t yet understand what a long relationship with your work actually looks like. I remember calling my Mom one day after my second year in to talk about “adulting” and “is this what you do as an adult? You get up, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, eat dinner to go to sleep and start all over again?”
Now I do understand. And the truth is: I still enjoy it. Deeply.
That surprises some people. In a world where burnout gets talked about more than purpose, staying passionate about something for 21 years can sound unusual. But the longer I do this work, the more I realize the joy doesn’t come from the novelty of it.
It comes from the meaning of it and my response to my Mom was “At least I get to spend that time helping people.”
The Early Years
When I first started in practice, everything was new.
Every patient felt like a big moment. Every success felt huge. Every challenge felt personal.
Just constantly learning; about my craft, about people, about myself.
Those early years are fueled by adrenaline and determination; figuring out systems, finding a rhythm, learning what works and what doesn’t. There are long days and more than a few moments where I wondered if you’re doing it right and doing it well.
But those years build the foundation for everything and teach resilience. They teach patience, steadfastness, tenacity and endurance. And most importantly—they teach you that this work is about helping the people.
Somewhere Along the Way
At some point, something shifts. The work becomes less about performance and more about service and impact. You understand your process. You trust your experience. You know how to help people in ways that only come from years of doing it.
There’s a quiet confidence that replaces the feelings of the early years. And that’s when the work becomes even more fulfilling. Because you’re not just practicing anymore—you’re guiding, supporting, and witnessing people’s progress in ways that younger versions of myself as a doctor couldn’t fully appreciate yet.
The Real Reward
After 21 years, the greatest reward isn’t the longevity, it’s the relationships. It’s the patient who has been coming in for years and now brings their kids.
It’s seeing someone who came in struggling walk out stronger and healthier.
It’s the conversations, the trust, the small wins that add up to real change in someone’s life. It is the moments of joy and also sitting in deep grief as life moves around all of us.
Those moments never get old and they remind me why I chose this path in the first place.
What Keeps It Fresh
People sometimes ask how I stay motivated after so many years. The answer is simple: no two days are the same and it is the very best part! Every person who walks through the door brings a different story, a different challenge, a different opportunity to help. That variety keeps the work alive and I am always learning.
And honestly, after 21 years, I’m still learning; about the body, about people and about how to do this work better every year. The moment I think I’ve mastered everything is the moment I stop growing and if you know anything about me by this point, you know I never want that.
Perspective Changes Everything
Experience also brings perspective. 
I’ve learned not to stress over the small things the way you used to. I’ve learned that tough days happen and that they pass and that consistency matters more than perfection.
Over and above all of that, I have learned to appreciate the privilege of doing work that matters. This is not just a job and not just a career. It’s a chance, every single day, to improve someone’s quality of life in a meaningful way. Not everyone gets to say that about their career and it is something that makes me look ahead with excitement and optimism.
21 Years Later
So here I am, 21 years in. Still grateful. Still curious. Still enjoying the work. That doesn’t mean every day is perfect. No career works like that. But the bigger picture which is the impact, the relationships and the purpose, makes it worth showing up every morning.
And if the last 21 years have taught me anything, it’s this: When you build a career around helping people, the work never really gets old. It just gets more meaningful.
And honestly… I’m excited to see what the next chapter brings.
