So, a year has now passed since this blog went live, in the sense that it became visible to Google and people found out about its existence. Which also means it’s now a year since I retired from work as a hospital doctor.
Last night, the Boon Companion and I cracked a bottle of champagne to mark the anniversary, so you can perhaps deduce that things have gone well.
None of the dire predictions that were intoned during the months before my Final Day turned out to be accurate. Going from full-time work to full-time retirement was effortless—I handed in my pager, walked out of the hospital, and simply stopped thinking about medicine. I haven’t missed it for a single moment; but nor, interestingly, has there been any sense of relief, either. I just flipped into a new way of living. Honestly, it’s difficult to see what all the fuss was about. I can clearly recall the last time I was bored, and it was during my second-last day at work.
This is not to belittle the plight of those retired colleagues who I know have struggled to adapt to their new way of life—the ease with which I made the transition makes it clear that there was either something different about the way I related to the job, or something different about the way I related to the rest of life, or perhaps a little of both. Whatever it is, it would appear that I was born to be a retired person—I do believe I’ve finally found my natural aptitude.