Sometimes our best days feel like they’re behind us. Other times, we dream of what lies ahead. Right between retirement and my next chapter, I found myself living vividly in the moment—and considering both perspectives.

By Alan Stern, DDS

MARY WAS THE last patient of my 42-year career. I even came in special for her because of my agreement with Dr. Ravi Shah, the young gentleman who bought my practice, that I’d finish everything I started before the purchase closed. This was it. The end. No more clinical things. Ever.

For the previous two years while the practice was for sale, I knew I was done. A voice saying “I don’t want to be here anymore” kept popping into my head each day—and not because I had stopped loving dentistry or my patients. It was because I found a new calling in my purpose-driven life for coaching others. Clinical dentistry had become an energy-draining distraction from that purpose. I wanted out, and today was the day I had waited for. Or was it?

Now the voice was almost scolding me. “It’s over. You’ll never be the Dr. Stern you’ve been for 42 years.” I fought back tears as I made coffee and greeted the team as they arrived. (I was still the first one in the office.) Then I sat through our morning huddle in my office—sorry, Dr. Ravi’s office—with the people who were no longer my team. Of course, I didn’t run the meeting, either. Dr Ravi did. I felt totally disempowered.

When Mary got there, I walked slowly down the hall, composing myself, realizing I had to be the doctor, greeting her with a big smile and full energy. I felt my heart beating but held back until I told Mary, who’s also an old family friend, that she was “patient last.” We finished and I thought, That’s it. Except, a minute later, Mary obtrusively knocked on my office door, opened it like she owned the place and said, “Alan, can you come back to the room and check me? Something’s bothering my tongue.” I instantly transformed into a grumpy old man, a New Jersey expletive flashing through my mind as I realized the team had already broken down the room. I’d have to start all over again.

A voice saying “I don’t want to be here anymore” kept popping into my head each day—and not because I had stopped loving dentistry or my patients. It was because I found a new calling in my purpose-driven life for coaching others.

Luckily, my hygienist came to my rescue. “Let’s do it in my room; it’s clean. I’ll help you,” she said. I took an explorer, pulled a piece of food debris from the lingual of one of the crowns and voilà. Mary was fine.

I walked her to the desk, laughing inside at myself and appreciating the comedy of the entire scenario, especially the fact that I got grumpy over a silly little nonproblem.

With a shaky hand, I made my last entry on the computer that held all my notes. It took me a while to leave the office—I knew I’d be back in a nonclinical role a few hours a week, but it would never be the same again. The office was not mine. The patients were no longer my responsibility. I would no longer sit chairside and do what I did for 42 years, four months and 28 days.

Isn’t it funny? I’d been wanting this day so badly. For the last seven years I’d wanted to be a full-time coach, speaker and writer and give up this dentistry thing, because 42 years was enough for me. And there I was, finally, diving over the goal line, seeing the end. And what did I do? I cried. I grieved and am still grieving.

Life is a series of transitions. Nothing is forever (except death and taxes, of course). Savor and stay in each moment as best you can. And as your life changes, remember the lyrics from the late Jimmy Buffett that keep me steady and on course: “Yesterday’s over my shoulder/I can’t look back for too long/There’s too much to see waiting in front of me/And I know that I just can’t go wrong.”

Carpe diem. Enjoy the ride.


ALAN STERN, DDS recently retired as a practicing dentist. He is a keynote speaker, ACE Certified Health Coach and Behavior Change Specialist, author and the founder and operator of Better, Richer, Stronger, LLC. He thrives on helping fellow doctors find clarity, purpose, prosperity and happiness. His book, “Enjoy the Ride,” is available from Amazon.