Delivering Her First Album: How FIRE Helped An OB/GYN Find Her Voice

crispydocUncategorized 1 Comment

The best part of writing a physician finance blog is the delightful assortment of true-to-their-internal compass folks you pick up as friends along the way. I feel fortunate to count Dr. Kristina Dervaitis, a Canadian OB/GYN, among the menagerie of misfit docs who make life more interesting as they redeem our profession in my eyes.

I've invited her to share the story of how assuming accountability for her financial well-being has enabled her to pursue the creation of art - a passion many physicians share but few of us prioritize. But she tells this story far better than I can...

Paging Dr. Dervaitis

When I stepped down from my duties in the delivery room, I had no idea that an album was about to be born. Yet here I am, 3 years later, a board certified OB/GYN releasing my debut album, “Overdue” (see what I did there? Just couldn’t resist the obstetrical reference!)

Wait. What?!

I can understand why people are confused when they hear about my foray into the music world. It shouldn’t be happening.

I should be in an operating room, removing a life threatening tubal pregnancy.

I should be on the birthing unit with a pair of forceps in hand, prepared to rescue an about-to-be-newborn in distress .

I should be running on the office/call/OR treadmill for at least another 20 years. 

I should be using every bit of knowledge, every technical and surgical skill, every moment I have a chance.

I could hear the chorus of dismay,  “How can  you just walk away?” (the loudest voice was my own).

My decision to leave hospital medicine was multifaceted. I loved being an obstetrician. I loved being a surgeon.  But I loved my husband Barry more, and I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible (an OB/GYN and pelvic floor surgeon 20 years my senior, his retirement was approaching).  It was clear that continuing my obstetrical and surgical practice would not be conducive to the sort of lifestyle we envisioned for Barry’s retirement.

Without a pause button for pregnant patients, extended periods of travel would be impractical and irresponsible. Without providing a fair share of obstetrical services, I couldn’t expect to maintain hospital and surgical privileges.  And while we were at this  crossroads, I also realized that I was not prepared to keep going at the frantic pace of my early career days.  At age 43, I was going to need to re-invent my practice, and my entire understanding of what it was to be a physician. 

Serendipitously, right around the time I was starting to contemplate a change, I discovered the FIRE movement. I devoured blog post after blog post, particularly enthralled by stories of other physicians who had pursued new avenues after reaching financial independence.

I started to look at the big picture.  I crunched some numbers and realized that I had (accidentally, unintentionally) achieved FI. Largely due to a life long aversion to debt (for example, we busted our butts to pay off a seven figure mortgage in just 8 years), and partly due to my lack of any dependents.

We enjoyed travel and occasionally indulged in the “finer things” of life, but our lifestyle was relatively frugal. Suddenly, I realized that two decades of saving and reasonable spending habits had translated into a financial safety net that would allow me to make a dramatic change. 

And so, I made the difficult decision to shift to a part time (office only) Gynecology and Contraception practice. Despite the reassurance of my FI math, I was more than a little bit petrified. And I wondered: would I be satisfied  “just” working in my office?

So where did music come in?

Just a few months before  I submitted my resignation, I had started  writing songs. I had always suffered from insomnia, and navigating  the biggest decision of my life certainly didn’t improve things.  I suddenly found myself writing song lyrics in the middle of the night - an attempt to distract myself from my racing thoughts.

Barry and I both had always been obsessed with music (he a drummer, myself classically trained in piano and more recently, guitar) but I’d never written songs before. Blurry eyed mornings were then spent with 6 strings and my limited guitar chord repertoire, trying to turn these middle-of-the-night words into music. 

My new aspirations are particularly surprising, considering that I never really thought of myself as a singer.  Most of my past vocal performances were from behind the wheel, an audience of zero.  Driving home after a 24 hour on call shift, the tunes would be cranked. Part celebration (just an hour until I can sleep!), part stimulation (still another hour ‘til I can sleep…), these post call sing alongs (and the occasional at home karaoke with friends) was the extent of my vocal “training”.

Fewer work demands meant more free time, more time for music, more songs. I braved a few open mic nights. I boldly agreed to perform an entire two hour set of original music at a community event featuring dozens of musicians (…real  musicians! When would they find out I was an imposter?) I had just done a handful of barstool-in-the-corner gigs when the pandemic arrived.  

Determined to continue to share my music, I created an Instagram profile (back when I wasn’t yet taking myself seriously: @singinggynecologist). When one of my all-time favourite musicians (Emm Gryner)  started following me and I learned she was giving vocal lessons, I jumped at the opportunity. 

Through the sneakiness of a “vision board” exercise (I was skeptical…) it ultimately became apparent that I would consider it a dream come true to have the chance for a larger audience to hear my music.  After some nudging and encouragement, my imposter syndrome began to fade, and I decided to record an album. Barry and I both attacked the project with surgical focus (his percussion arrangements bringing new life to my songs). We cranked out demo after demo using our home recording equipment, which laid the foundation for our studio recording. 

“Just” in  the office…

Meanwhile, as I settled into my new part-time office life, my contraception practice flourished beyond what I ever would have imagined. With zero experience on social media (not even a Facebook account!) I  decided to launch a YouTube channel about contraception and the IUD. 

I never imagined that I would have the chance to educate and interact with viewers all over the world, with more than 50 videos, nearly a million total views and thousands of international subscribers. I began to challenge the idea that I was serving less of a purpose outside of the hospital. 

Breathing

You can’t really sing the high notes without taking a deep breath.  My new part time world revealed to me the sorts of things that can happen when you have a chance to breathe. To explore. To indulge. To allow yourself to be human instead of super-human. 

I have had the tremendous privilege of being a “healer” in the traditional sense as a physician, and now have the opportunity to provide a different sort of therapy. Music heals, and I have experienced this first hand. I’m so glad that my “day job” reinvention has led me to this entirely new world (maybe a future new “day job”? Stay tuned…)

Listen & Watch 

An important lesson I take from Dr. Dervaitis' experience is that going part-time and reducing clinical commitments to achieve a more balanced lifestyle need not mean that one will have reduced impact or derive less satisfaction from the practice of medicine.

Thanks, Kristina, for showing the rest of us that far from restraining one's options, financial discipline is a complementary tool in unleashing one's creative passions.

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