Dear Lisi: I have worked as a family practitioner for several decades. Recently, I decided I want to wind down my practice and start writing a book I’ve always had brewing. Obviously, my wife knows, and she supports me. We are financially secure.
But my brother and his wife laughed in my face when I accidentally mentioned it at dinner one night. We get along with them well as a couple, and we both like his wife. We don’t seem to be on the same wavelength as my brother, though, and we often go home after a night out shaking our heads in confusion and disbelief.
Unfortunately, I’m now unsure that I’m making the right decision about my future. I’ve never written a book before, but I believe in this story, as does my wife.
How do I know whether to go ahead?
Nervous next move
Any big lifestyle change is going to be nerve-wracking. That’s life. There are no guarantees.
The beauty of this decision is threefold: 1) You said you’re financially stable, so taking a hiatus from your job won’t be stressful or cause you to feel pressured. 2) You can always go back to being a family practitioner. There aren’t enough (in Toronto, at least), so I can’t imagine it would be hard for you to join or rejoin a practice. And 3) If this book has been running around in your head for years, you know it must come out. It could be a bestseller … or it could be a flop. Either way, it’s got to come out to make room for whatever else is in there.
Finally, with a supportive spouse, you can do anything you put your mind to. Don’t let the naysayers get under your skin. I wish you the best of luck in your new endeavour!
Dear Lisi: Something happened to me last week and I can’t stop thinking about it. I was in a grocery store with my toddler in the trolley, talking with him and walking through the aisles picking up what was on our list. I always had my hand on his head, his hand, his arm, or his knee. I’m a tactile person and I just love to be in physical contact with my child.
After I had several items in my cart, and was walking through the produce aisle, I noticed the bananas I had chosen were gone. I looked around, asked my son, but neither of us could figure it out. I went back to the bananas, picked out more, and as I put them in my cart, I saw an employee take out my apples.
My first response was to say, “Excuse me, but I believe you’ve just taken my apples,” in a quiet but firm voice. He turned to me, and it was obvious from his body language and facial expression that he had some type of disability. He said he took them because they weren’t mine and proceeded to give them to a woman walking by. She shrugged and gave them back to me, which made him furious.
I gave them back to him, paid for my stuff and left. But now I think I should have spoken to a manager.
Not in the moment
Yes, you should have spoken to the manager, and it’s not too late to do so. For whatever reason, the employee was confused. But his confusion was hindering your shopping and making you uncomfortable. As a customer, you have every right to say something.
If you’re concerned that this employee will be fired, I can only tell you that companies that employ staff with disabilities often have guidelines in place and will probably find somewhere else for him to work. You likely don’t need to worry about that.
FEEDBACK Regarding the bridezilla (Feb. 15):
Reader — “My brother-in-law married a lovely woman who, after giving birth to their only child, did a complete reversal, personality-wise. She went from a compassionate, loving person to a controlling, opinionated, nagging witch.
“The marriage didn’t last, but sadly, their child grew up in a hateful atmosphere. This guy is getting a preview of what his life will be like with this woman. He should get out now while he can. Before it’s too late.”
FEEDBACK Regarding the annoyed mom of twins (Feb. 21):
Reader — “I smiled at this letter — been there, done that. My house didn’t look like that, either. But I’ve been good friends with my white-couch woman for 48 years!
“She can be proud of herself for getting out with the babies. No one cares what she looks like. Laughing at our upside-down lives helps. This, too, will pass.”
Lisi Tesher is an advice columnist based in Toronto. Send your questions to [email protected]
