Celebrating Your Retirement

Dear Richard,

As your last day at Westlake Medical Center approaches, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on your extraordinary career and the indelible mark you've left on our institution, your colleagues, and most importantly, the thousands of patients' lives you've touched over these past thirty-five years.

When you joined our Pediatric Department in 1989, fresh from your fellowship at Johns Hopkins, none of us could have predicted the pivotal role you would play in transforming pediatric care in our region. I still remember your first week, when you challenged our outdated protocols for asthma management with such diplomatic persistence that even Dr. Harrison—notorious for his resistance to change—eventually conceded that your evidence-based approach was superior. That moment foretold the career that would follow: one marked by unwavering commitment to excellence, courage to advocate for better practices, and the rare ability to effect change without creating enemies.

Over three and a half decades, you've witnessed and contributed to remarkable advances in medicine. You were here when we transitioned from paper charts to our first clumsy electronic medical records system (and I recall your colorful commentary during that particular change!). You embraced telemedicine long before it became mainstream during the pandemic. You've adapted to countless new protocols, technologies, and administrative requirements, always keeping what matters most—the well-being of your young patients—at the center of your practice.

Your clinical excellence alone would have secured your legacy, but your contributions extend far beyond patient care. The Pediatric Residency Program you've directed for the past fifteen years has graduated over 200 pediatricians, many of whom now hold leadership positions across the country. Your research on improving medication adherence in adolescents with chronic conditions has been implemented in children's hospitals nationwide. The annual fundraising gala you and Sandra established has raised over $3 million for our Child Life program.

Then there are the less quantifiable but equally significant aspects of your influence: the wisdom you've shared in countless hallway consultations, the support you've offered to young physicians struggling with their first difficult cases, the way you've modeled compassionate communication with frightened parents and children. Your institutional memory has provided valuable context for decision-making, and your unfailing humor—particularly your notorious puns—has lifted spirits during challenging times.

I've always been struck by how you've balanced an impressive career with a rich personal life—never missing your children's important events despite the demands of medicine, maintaining your passion for sailing, and supporting Sandra's artistic pursuits. You've shown us that physician burnout isn't inevitable, that sustainable practice is possible with proper boundaries and priorities.

As you prepare for this next chapter, I hope you feel the profound impact of your life's work. While you're irreplaceable, you've ensured your legacy will continue through the systems you've improved, the physicians you've trained, and the culture of excellence and compassion you've helped foster.

I know retirement brings mixed emotions—satisfaction coupled with the challenge of redefining purpose, pride in accomplishments alongside uncertainty about what comes next. Having known you for three decades, I have no doubt you'll approach this transition with the same thoughtfulness and intention that have characterized your medical career. The sailing expeditions, grandparent duties, and consulting opportunities that await will surely benefit from your wisdom, energy, and perspective.

While we'll formally celebrate your contributions at next week's retirement dinner, I wanted to share these more personal reflections in writing—something you can return to on days when you might question the significance of your professional journey. Richard, your work has mattered profoundly. You've alleviated suffering, saved lives, advanced medicine, and inspired the next generation. Few can claim such a meaningful legacy.

Our department meetings won't be the same without your insightful comments and terrible jokes. Patient rounds will lack your encyclopedic knowledge of unusual presentations. The holiday party will certainly feature less enthusiastic karaoke. But the standard of care you've established and the culture you've helped create will endure.

As you complete your final patient notes, clean out your office, and say your goodbyes, please know that while you may be retiring from medical practice, your influence on our institution and on me personally continues. It has been one of the great privileges of my career to work alongside you, learn from you, and call you my friend.