Ch-ch-changes

For those who just want the facts, ma’am, here they come.  For those who want to read a loooong exposition on the nature of work and my dialectic rambling explanation of these changes, feel free to waste some time with me below.

​

On January 1st, 2027, the following changes will occur:

1. Patients only seen on Tuesdays and Thursdays

2. All scheduling and payments to be done electronically (it’s ok—Arlene was ready to move on too and this was a mutual decision!).  More directions on this to come.

3. Maybe the most challenging change, especially for those of you who have been with me the longest. . . . . no more semi-immediate access to me via messaging.  I will only be responding to messages on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, during business hours only.  This means that I am clearly NOT providing primary care, especially for my pediatric patients, since you cannot reach me in the case of urgent matters. 

What is not changing (aka, don’t freak out):

1.  For the time being, fees will remain the same (I’ve only increased fees by small amounts, 3 times in the last 20 years, and I’m trying to hold on to these as long as I can for you—to put it into perspective, 2 of my closest colleagues charge $930 and $1050 per 1 hour visit).

2. My ability to consult with you about any topic you like.  Just not as quickly as before.

3. My phone number, office location (hopefully), website, charting portal, supplement website. 

4. My commitment to providing you with the most empowering, holistic health care possible.

 

 

​

​

Why am I doing this?!?

​

Over the years I have heard you lament the loss of providers, leaving you with a healthcare hole as they reduce their hours, become more specialized, stop seeing patients with insurance, move, etc, and I have commiserated with you.  Now here I am doing much of the same—why Dr. Gerber, why?—you say.  Well, there is a simple explanation and a more complex one, and I’ll let you in on my thought process as I have pondered this decision and its meaning (I am in no way under the impression that my presence in your life is so profound that you are truly as devastated as all that, or that my decision is a Big Deal in the scheme of things, but I thought a little philosophical musing wouldn’t hurt anyone, and many of you have been with me for a long time [and you know how I like to expound on a topic] so you deserve to hear my tale, if you are so inclined).  I have been accused of failing to speak directly (mostly by my amazing and long-suffering teenage daughter), and that arrow flies true—but in many ways that is an expression of a characteristically “feminine” way of speaking—elliptical, spiral; painting a picture of the subject, rather than reducing it to a single linear statement—unfortunately for you, I obviously write that way too. 

​

The simple explanation is that I am tired, and ready for a change.  I need to diversify.  I know there are doctors who die in the saddle, as it were, and I judged myself negatively for a while in comparison to these folks when I first started having restless thoughts.  But my goal is not to stop working (Can you imagine?  Me truly resting??  Hilarious); rather, to find other ways to express myself and keep fighting the good fight.  It’s easy to burn out after 20+ years of one-on-one patient care and near-constantly being on-call (to varying degrees, of course, but since the age of 24 when I started preceptoring as a student midwife, I have been available to patients/clients in some capacity, at all hours).  I am acutely aware of my privilege in this—most workers, doctors, moms, cannot simply reduce their commitments, no matter how burnt out they may be, and I acknowledge this reality with gratitude for my own circumstances.  I judged my desires on this front as well when I was contemplating my working future, but ultimately decided that what I wanted was similar opportunities for all workers, and that I would continue to do my small part in pushing for this reality, and not deny myself some of the benefit that I had worked hard for (and been privileged enough to access) out of guilt—we all deserve this option in our lives. 

 

I have tried for the last few years to look for my next steps, but found that I couldn’t see beyond one foot in front of the other, in my current state, so I made a choice (once I felt just financially stable enough to do so—and my partner and I long ago decided that we wanted a certain kind of life, not a certain amount of stuff, and not an escalating idea of what that life should be) to back off a little, and see what I can see when I’m able to look up at the horizon, and not down at my feet on the path all the time.  Maybe I’ll find a way to teach (always a passion within my medicine, but I would love to be able to do it on a larger scale), or maybe I’ll write, lecture, get back to my activist roots and be more involved in the politics of promoting my professions. .  .  . maybe I’ll start a holistic day care or start working towards the activism-based sliding scale community birth center I’ve always dreamed about (message me if you want to hear more about that, ha!), or do a series of those wacky You Tube videos some of my zany patients are always trying to get me to do (you know who you are) or some other crazy thing. . . . or maybe I’ll just grow really great cabbages* (see explanation of the cabbage life below).  Maybe I’ll dive more fully back into what I’ve always done with a renewed sense of purpose and energy.  Sky’s the limit. 

 

It feels like the right kind of evolution for me, entering my crone phase of life.  For me, the mother phase was very nose-to-the-grindstone, in terms of building my practice and my family, and I hope that good things, beautiful things, came from it.  I believe that they did.  And I’m a hopeless romantic/cockeyed optimist, so the grindstone was crafted with love.  It feels also like a birth phase—I frequently tell clients about how birth will make you ready for the next stage—what would seem really scary at the beginning (pushing a giant head out of your vagina; giving up ½ your income), starts to look like a pretty darn good idea at the end of transition (the pressure becomes too great, and you’ve got to move through).  I hope that you don’t feel abandoned by my shifting priorities, but rather will continue to walk with me if that serves you (I’m still there on Tuesdays and Thursdays!  Huzzah!) and celebrate ‘the thing that comes next.’  Whatever that may be.  Oh, and if anyone knows of someone looking to share a space—I’d looooove to be able to stay at my current office, but that will only work longer term if someone shares the space/rent with me.  So send them my way if you know of anyone!  It’s a fun space.  : )  Thank you all, if you chose to read for THIS LONG (and even if you didn’t, I still appreciate you!), for being a part of this crazy human experience with me.  I have some of the best patients in the world!  Keep on holding each other up and twirling, twirling, twirling towards wellness!

 

 

 

 

 

*The “cabbages lifestyle” refers to a story about a Roman general/emperor who was at the top of his game and ruling much of the known world and all that, who one day, without even being assassinated or anything, just decided to .  . . .stop.  To give it all up and head to the countryside.  Years later, as he’s out in his fields, a group of important looking men approach and before they even reach him are holding their arms out in desperation—“please,” they cry, “the empire is falling apart!  We need you to come back.  We’ll give you anything you ask, your power will be unquestioned, just come back!”  To which the now-farmer-former-emperor replies. .. . . “I appreciate the offer—to be wanted, to be useful, powerful, wealthy. . . . but I’m afraid I truly cannot. . . . you see, I’m growing amazing cabbages.  Here, have you seen them?”  Some of you may know that I dabble in animal husbandry—I keep chickens and bees, and dream of pygmy goats (did you know that despite the fact that they are hella cute, and tiny, that they make good milk?!  Too good to be true, you say—I know!  But it is!).  Maybe I lean into my cabbage era and make something really beautiful there.  It’s a tricky philosophical conundrum—as I get older, I do feel more and more pulled to the cabbages (whenever things get hard in either of our work, or the world is really on fire that day, my husband and I joke that we just want to be left alone to grow our cabbages), but my conscience thinks of what we owe to each other (Good Place reference) and the world I want for my children and all children. . . hopefully a little perspective will help me figure out what’s the next right thing.  Meanwhile, I definitely plan to use some of my time (what, you didn’t think I’d ever be sitting around, did you??—I can contemplate the future while my hands are busy!) to do a bunch of the secret stair hikes around LA, paint an accent wall in every room in the house, learn the banjo (who wants to start a part time mom band with a former musical theater leading lady who just learned to play the banjo??—I know you’re tempted!), and start seriously thinking about those goats. . .  plus, my kiddos are getting closer and closer to the edge of the nest—I kinda want to savor some of these last years (while also looking forward to what happens once they fly—teens are harrrrrrrrd).  Stay tuned.