I will never forget the moment I slipped on my first white coat. It was crisp, bright, and full of promise. After years of studying, long nights, and deep sacrifice, the coat symbolized everything. I was stepping into a life of purpose, one patient at a time.

Like many physicians, I wore that coat with pride and a quiet belief that I was invincible. We get used to pushing through exhaustion, stress, and sacrifice. Medicine demands everything, and I was all in.

Until, in one instant, everything changed.

My Last Delivery

It was an ordinary day at the hospital with one of my favorite patients in labor; she was someone I cared for through all her pregnancies. It should have been an easy delivery. Unfortunately, she came in completely dilated and could not get anesthesia. Things were going smoothly until the baby’s heart rate dropped. I knew I had to act quickly and position myself for the delivery. As I put a vacuum on the baby’s head, the patient kicked me twice. With the second kick, the pain shot through my shoulder, and I felt a pop.

I finished the delivery, fighting through tears and instinctively pushing the pain aside to care for my patient. But the damage was done. The diagnosis came later: a torn labrum that turned into adhesive capsulitis. I would never regain full motion in my shoulder.

And just like that, I could no longer practice the career to which I had dedicated my life.

Hanging Up the White Coat

Losing the ability to practice medicine wasn’t just about the job. It was the loss of an identity, a calling, a future I had dreamed of since I was a little girl. I thought I would die at the OR table. I dedicated my life to this field of work, which meant I missed many milestones, such as birthdays, weddings, and holidays, all of which were sacrificed memories.

And suddenly, it was over.

I grieved. Deeply. I moved through all five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance.

At first, I refused to believe it. I told myself I’d recover, prove the doctors wrong, and find a way back. I threw myself into physical therapy. But nothing changed the reality of what my body could no longer do.

Then came the most challenging part: figuring out who I was without medicine.

Redefining Success Beyond Medicine

As I began to rebuild, I assumed I had the financial protection I needed. I had a group and a private disability insurance policy, which I thought meant I was covered. But when I looked closer, I realized how little I actually understood about either. My group policy, in fine print, did not cover work-related injuries. My claim was denied. It became clear that my private coverage hadn’t kept up with my income, and the definitions were not what I thought. I didn’t know what questions to ask or even that I should be asking them.

That gap in understanding had real consequences. As the primary breadwinner for my family, facing that reality was sobering.

But it was also motivating. That experience lit a fire in me to not just recover, but to also protect other physicians from going through the same thing. If I couldn’t help my patients anymore, I could help my colleagues. This insight led me to co-found a disability insurance advisory firm built for physicians. Today, I spend my days educating doctors on what I wish I had known, helping them understand the value of coverage that evolves with their careers and lives. With my new path rounded in education, advocacy, and making sure other physicians have the tools and knowledge to protect everything they’re working so hard to build, I feel successful again — and like I was able to establish a new, meaningful identity.

Finding Purpose Again

I never thought I’d leave medicine, not like this. But I’ve learned that grief and reinvention can coexist. My story didn’t end when I took off the white coat. It just changed direction.

If you’re reading this and facing a similar turning point, whether by choice or circumstance, I want you to know that there’s still a path forward. You must remember there is more to life than the job title and the hospital. So, whether you choose to leave medicine or are forced to walk away, it is time to redefine your own success.

Success doesn’t always look like what we imagined. Sometimes, it’s even better.

What's your version of success? Share in the comments!

Dr. Stephanie Pearson is a board-certified ob/gyn whose career-ending injury led her to become a disability insurance advocate and co-founder of PearsonRavitz. She shares her new mission and story of reinvention at @drstephaniepearson.

Illustration by April Brust and Jennifer Bogartz