December 26 2025

Life Lessons for Physicians

2025: A Journey Through Loss, Meaning, and Renewal

Sometimes the healthcare system is so big and complex, and surprisingly lonely, that patients and providers just put up with the dysfunction… or leave.

Putting on a brave face feels like the right thing to do. But in my experience, that’s what leads to burnout, dissatisfaction, and an imbalanced life.

There are people out there who have figured it out , who recognize the challenges in healthcare and still find ways to thrive in the middle of the chaos. Thriving looks different for everyone, and this is not a one-size-fits-all answer. But by sharing stories and experiences, we can learn from each other and remake our lives and careers, and in the process, change the system itself.

How 2025 Changed Me

As I look forward to 2026, here’s a bit of my story from the past year. It’s a story about loss, love, unexpected lessons, and how change reorients our hearts toward what really matters.

If you’ve ever thought you had more time, made a plan… and then life rewrote the plan on you, then you’re in the right place.

Meet Stanzi and Moe

I’m a dog person. I really wanted a dog during residency and fellowship, but didn’t think I could handle the responsibility. About two years into my attending job, I finally did it.

In the span of a week, I went from “maybe I’ll get a dog” to standing in the middle of a puppy pile. One puppy attached himself to my shoelaces and stayed there the entire visit. He was the only available one — it felt like he had chosen me. A short time later, I carefully placed him in a crate, and we made the 90-minute drive home. Stanzi, named after the Orange Bowl–winning Iowa Hawkeye quarterback Ricky Stanzi, quickly became my shadow, my constant companion, the bright spot in my days.

Things went so well that I added a second Tibetan terrier. If Stanzi thought I was the greatest thing since sliced bread, Moeaki (or Momo, also named after a Hawkeye great!) thought I was about as capable as a slice of bread. His mission: ensure I never missed a meal and protect me at all costs.

I welcomed Stanzi almost 14 years ago. And as any dog owner knows, 14 years wasn’t enough.

When Grief Enters Quietly

In late 2024, I said goodbye to Stanzi. Diabetes, blindness, kidney stones. He showed me patience. Unconditional love. Joy in the smallest moments. A lick on my hand at 2 a.m., a wag when I walked in the door, the way he’d jump into my lap to nap. I would miss it all — but it was time to say goodbye.

His loss hit me harder than I expected. And then, just six months later, I said goodbye to Moe. If Stanzi was my shadow, Moe was the protector and comedian. His loss hit differently, but just as deeply.

The silence after they were gone taught me something new: grief doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it sits quietly in the house you once filled.

When Life Rewrites the Plan

Six months of missing them. Six months of a quiet house. Eventually, the quiet inside was replaced by the noise of daily life — but the quiet at home persisted. So we welcomed Kittle, a red-and-white Tibetan doodle. Playful, chaos in a ball of fur.

We always knew we wanted two dogs, so when the breeder called four weeks later with another puppy who needed a home, Cooper joined us.

Two new dogs… and then, three days later, life changed fast.

Cooper and Kittle. Tibetan doodles — Cooper and Kittle enjoying the sunshine

Kittle got sick. At first, I thought it was a puppy virus , some GI bug. But within 48 hours, his labs showed kidney failure. An ultrasound revealed congenital renal dysplasia. No functioning kidneys. No treatment. No options

I walked in thinking he needed IV fluids. I walked out without a puppy.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt grief like that; sudden, deep, unrelenting. And there was Cooper who was so new, so full of life and I found myself avoiding him. Because every time I looked at Cooper, I saw everything I’d lost.

I remember thinking: Ben, you care for kids with heart problems. Some parents walk into a hospital with a child and go home without one. Losing a dog is nothing compared to that. And while that’s true, grief is grief. I didn’t recognize that version of me, the one trying to minimize his own pain instead of tending to it.

And then, four weeks later, Maui came home , another Tibetan doodle. Now Maui and Cooper, seven and eight months old, are goofy, playful, and full of joyful mayhem. We love every minute.

Cooper and Maui. Two dogs sitting outside. — Cooper and Maui.🥰

The Lesson I Didn’t Plan to Learn

When I sat down at the end of 2024 to write my New Year’s resolutions, none of these changes were on my radar. I didn’t plan to lose both senior dogs in 2025. I didn’t plan to fall in love with a puppy and lose him within a month. I didn’t plan to have two new dogs by spring.

And that’s the lesson. Life happens. sometimes because of our choices, and sometimes because of circumstances beyond our control. We don’t get to decide all the events of our story, but we do get to choose how we respond.

It’s not what happens that defines us — it’s how we respond afterwards.

That realization is why I’m dropping resolutions for 2026. Instead, I’m carrying forward lessons. The small truths earned through loss, love, and renewal.

Three Questions to Start Your New Year

So, if you want to join me in the “no resolutions” for 2026. Here’s how you to start. Ask yourself the following 3 questions”

What happened this past year that you didn’t expect?
How did it change you — sometimes in ways you couldn’t have imagined?
What lesson did you learn from that experience that might make your year better?

Not resolutions. Not another SMART goal. Just one shift. One way you’ll show up differently because you know differently now.

For me, I’m going to show up with less fear of the unexpected. I’m going to make more space for unplanned beauty. I’m going to remember that response matters more than circumstance.

If you lean into the story you didn’t choose, and let it teach you, you’ll begin the year not from “Will I?” but from “I already know.” And that’s a powerful place to start.

Life Lessons for Physicians