What if the profession you dedicated your life to, one marked by success, significance, and honor, has become a prison from which you cannot break free? That question not only tormented me; it kept me stagnant for years.

I was a prosperous urologist, specializing in advanced detection of prostate cancer, robotic surgery, and men’s health issues. To the outside world, I had everything: a flourishing practice, financial stability, an esteemed reputation, and a continuous influx of patients. I was executing exactly what I trained my entire life for. What I believed I desired. Yet, I was deeply unhappy.

My unhappiness didn’t stem from a dislike of medicine. I still hold a passion for medicine. I enjoy problem-solving. I relish helping others. I cherish making a difference. However, the system (that demoralizing, soul-crushing, insurance-driven hamster wheel) caused me to detest how I had to implement it. Six-minute appointments. Electronic medical record hell. Prior authorization skirmishes. Sleepless nights on call. Unpleasant patients. Unpleasant families. It was not healing. It was not humane. It was merely survival. Here’s what many physicians seldom vocalize: I wanted to escape, but I felt ashamed for even contemplating it.

I was not merely exhausted. I was disheartened.

The unspoken crisis

And I was not alone. The mental well-being of physicians is declining at a troubling pace:

– Approximately 23 percent of active physicians now report feelings of depression.
– Urology has one of the highest depression rates among medical professionals at around 38.5 percent (emergency medicine: 38.3 percent; family medicine: roughly 35.8 percent).
– Each year in the U.S., between 300 and 400 physicians take their own lives.

These figures aren’t just numbers. They represent our colleagues. Our friends. Genuine lives. And they reveal a system that is literally killing us.

What’s truly hindering us

Burnout manifests as fatigue, cynicism, frustration, guilt, and anger. Yet, beneath the surface lie limiting beliefs and fear. Deep, subconscious convictions that keep us imprisoned:

– “If I abandon traditional medicine, I am forsaking my calling.”
– “I have invested too much to walk away from it all.”
– “I am a physician; it’s all I have ever understood.”
– “What might others think?”
– “I am unsure of what else to pursue.”
– “What if I don’t succeed?”

These constraining beliefs keep talented, capable doctors trapped in cages of fear. I understand this because I was one of them. For years, those doubts echoed in my mind:

– “I have invested so much: education, identity, time, and sacrifices. How could I possibly leave?”
– “What would others say?”
– “What if I fail?”
– “Who am I if I am not ‘Dr. Gapin, the urologist, the surgeon, the prostate cancer specialist’?”

The system isn’t going to rescue you.

Here’s what I discovered: If you are expecting the system to transform (to ultimately prioritize your health, happiness, and freedom), you will be waiting indefinitely.

So I stopped waiting. And I took the plunge. After 23 years, I left my successful, well-paying urology practice and started a cash-based precision medicine practice concentrating on proactive, personalized health optimization. A model that is data-driven, patient-focused, and centered on genuine value and impact for my patients and for myself.

I recognized that I did not need to abandon medicine. I needed to reshape how I practiced it.

And now? My practice is thriving beyond my greatest expectations. More importantly, I can sincerely state: I love what I do.

It’s perfectly fine to desire more.

Can you? If this resonates with you, remember this: It is perfectly fine to wish for more. To seek more time. To crave more freedom. To long for more joy, purpose, and fulfillment.

It isn’t selfish. It’s about survival. The career and life you constructed brought you to this point. But it may not guide you through the next chapter.

So I’ll ask you once more: What if the life you’ve built no longer supports the future you envision? What would you choose to do?

Tracy Gapin is a urologist.