I recently mentioned the possibility of burnout to one of my doc clients the other day. An orthopedic surgeon in his late 40s, a powerhouse of stamina, he became defensive. “I’m not burned out. Not any more. Maybe I used to be. But I’m fine now.” The words came out of him before he could stop them, each one attempting qualifying the last. Door closed. Or so I thought. But the next day, as if he’d been thinking about it all night, he came into my office.
“You know when it started?” he said, before he even sat down.
“When what started?” I asked.
“The burnout. It started in residency. You couldn’t be tired or hurting. It was as thought we weren’t supposed to have normal physiological responses or needs. It was — bullying.”
“Bullying,” we both repeated together.
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