I pondered this matter more than a few times during my career. I suspect that many others have as well. The question might be posed as, “Am I living my best life?” Or it might be entertained as, “Am I doing as much good as I could?” There are many other formulations, I am sure. The point is that we must each examine our lives now and then in order to make it mean (to us) as much as it can. Sometimes, it comes down to, “Are we in the right place at the right time?”
I’ve watched Top Gun: Maverick at least three times – end to end. The first time was in the theater. Then I bought it on VUDU some months later. A few days ago, I watched it on that streaming service. That’s when I realized what attracted me to this movie. Yes, of course, there is that adolescent male thing about speed, heroism, and testosterone. But I knew that there was something else – the je ne sais quoi.
Maverick, an aging naval aviator and former test pilot, is still a Captain after thirty years of service when his peers have risen to the ranks of Admiral. One has to wonder why. Does he not have the Right Stuff to achieve higher rank? Or would moving into command and administrative roles take him away from where he belongs? There is a scene aboard a carrier set to launch a mission against an enemy site in which the story character Warlock says to Maverick, “You are where you belong.” It resonated with me.
Christmas day 1979, I was on short call during my first year of medical residency. Short call was supposed to end after each team had rounded on its patients; my supervisory resident and I finished rounds in the early afternoon. All of my team’s patients were settled except for one who was in the ICU – he was a young man who had severe Systemic Lupus. His condition was unstable, and I decided that if I left him in the hands of the Long Call team, it would be a burden to them and perhaps a risk to him. I stayed at his bedside in the late evening. When I finally headed home, I recall thinking that I couldn’t have done anything else that day more important than what I had done at his bedside. I had spent the day where I belonged.
I spent a delightful year as a second-year resident guiding first year residents. As each week and month passed, I knew that I was where I belonged. As the third and final year of my residency approached, our residency director asked whether I would accept the position of Chief Resident. The Chief typically has no direct supervisory duties and more than a few administrative duties. I was flattered, of course, but I declined.
The beginning of medical residency programs, typically in the early months of summer, is a time of high risks for the medically underserved. Inexperienced medical trainees enter the program – some with stronger or weaker clinical skills and intuition. Because medical errors can be costly, one needs to ensure that first year residents have a safety net – competent second- and third-year supervisory residents ready to guide and help the new trainees. I declined the Chief Resident role telling my program director that I wasn’t ready for an administrative role. I told him that I belonged on the front lines on the first inpatient rotation for the incoming group of first-year medical residents. He didn’t argue with me. After all, it was where I belonged.
I suspect that everyone engaged in a trade or profession eventually reaches a point in their careers where they must choose between advancement and being where they belong. I doubt that there is a teacher, professor, nurse or attorney who hasn’t faced this issue. “Do I accept this promotion, or do I stay where I belong?” I suppose that this is why this testosterone-charged movie for tween males appeals to me as much as it does.
I will have to admit that unlike Maverick, I did eventually accept administrative positions. The first was not as much a career building promotion as it was an opportunity to explore whether I might belong in that role. The last such role was both a major promotion and my best opportunity to show that it was where I belonged.