I would like to talk about döstädning, which is the Swedish word for “death cleaning.” I promise you this will not be as morbid as it sounds. This final purge is an effort to relieve those left behind from the duty of having to sort through your collection of sweaters you insisted you would one day wear, or those boxes filled with your grade-school artistic masterpieces that once adorned the refrigerator. One person’s treasures, invariably, will be viewed by those left to clean them up as, well, trash—unless you unknowingly snagged a Picasso at the local yard sale. Besides, you will be long gone, so who really cares what everyone thinks?
The prevailing reality around what some shudder to acknowledge is that, like taxes, death is one of those things we will all have to face. That said, there is the thought that we should not wait until the end is near to do this final purge. There is great value in doing this sort of clean sweep at several points in both your personal and professional lives.
Unless you are soon to be featured in an episode of Hoarders, most people feel a great relief when ridding themselves of things that no longer serve a purpose. I also believe there is great value in this process to lighten the load of the people who, in the words of super-cleaner Marie Kondo, no longer spark joy. From living arrangements to patients to procedures that frustrate you, what are you holding onto that no longer brings you happiness?
My mother once recounted the story of her cousin, a committed family physician, who suffered a heart attack. That wake-up call prompted a little döstädning action where he culled his charts of the patients that caused a cold sweat when he saw their names on his schedule. He tidily placed the files into a box, which he gleefully took down the hall to a bright-eyed, newly minted doctor who was happy, in that moment, to kick-start his clinic. If he was smart, he would have saved the box.
Recently, I decided that plumbing, snow removal, and all the other annoying parts of home ownership were not for me, despite my effort to achieve it. I guiltily disliked it so much that my realtors breathed a very audible sigh of relief when the sale was completed. I am now an unencumbered renter, and the lack of responsibility is liberating. I completed a döstädning of epic proportions. Every time I gave something away, I felt an exhilarating rush. Cortisol and epinephrine were being washed away by cascading tides of dopamine. This purge then started the dominoes falling, and I have reconfigured my work life in a way that allows me to breathe, explore hobbies, and sleep late now and again, leaving me refreshed and ready to work. As healthcare providers, we look after our patients, teams, families, communities, and oh yes, somewhere at the bottom of that list, if at all, ourselves.
Those of us who are “OGs” of the profession often still feel guilty if we take time off or reduce our hours, until we realize that if we do not soon start caring for ourselves, we will be no good to anyone. We often do not realize how unhealthy a situation can be until we are on the other side of it, whether it be a disorganized clinic or a dysfunctional friendship. Dr. Lori Santos, a psychologist who studies the science of happiness, warns us that we often “miswant” things in the mistaken belief they will make us happy. We so often cling to relationships with people or things that are well past their expiration date. Sometimes we just cannot let go. Weeks become months, months become years, and before we know it, we have resigned ourselves to be mired in the muck of it, as change can be equal parts frightening and overwhelming. Conversely, we hear ourselves counseling patients about prevention, saying that oral health is the gateway to overall well-being and they need to look after themselves before it’s too late. The question is, are you taking your own advice?
When teaching, I always encourage students to think of their legacies now, not when it is too late to do anything about it. I always joke that nobody laid on their deathbeds with their last words being, “I placed 36,000 implants.” I also tell these fresh-faced professionals that tomorrow they will wake up 40 years old. They gasp in horror since they are still enjoying their 20s and their knees feel just fine. I implore them to put a note in their calendars, with my name as a reminder, so when they wake up the morning of that momentous birthday and look in the mirror as they rub the sleep from their eyes, quizzically staring at the “more mature” person glaring back, they will realize that this birthday crept up on them with alarming speed.
I recall the first time I looked at my dental school’s alumni magazine highlighting the meetings of classes from the past, and how with each decade post-graduation, the groups got smaller and smaller. “They are dropping like flies,” you mutter to yourself.
Again, these thoughts I am expressing do not have to be seen as all doom and gloom. Just the opposite. I encourage you—okay, implore you—to take stock of your life and career and decide what no longer serves you. If not a thing, write whatever or whomever it is on a piece of paper. Pile it all into a box as if this was your definitive döstädning. Do this throughout your life whenever you may feel stuck or unfulfilled.
I promise you that it is never too late!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dr. Bruce Freeman is an honours graduate of the Faculty of Dentistry at the University of Toronto where he is an Assistant Professor. He completed the Advanced Education in General Dentistry Program at the Eastman Dental Center in Rochester, New York, and his Diploma in Orthodontics and his Master of Science degree in the field of orofacial pain at the University of Toronto. He is Co-Director of the Hospital Dental Residency Program and Facial Pain Unit at Mount Sinai Hospital where he participates in research and cares for patients with complex facial pain disorders in addition to training the hospital dental residents and specialty dental residents. Dr. Freeman is also a facial pain consultant in the Department of Neurosurgery at Toronto Western Hospital and the Wasser Pain Centre at Mt. Sinai Hospital. Dr. Freeman lectures internationally on clinical orthodontics, facial pain, patient experience, mindful communication, and virtual surgical planning. Dr. Freeman is a certified yoga instructor with additional training in breathing techniques, meditation, and trauma informed movement always emphasizing how self-care leads to the best patient care.
To contact Dr. Freeman, head to his Instagram: @drbvf.
FEATURED IMAGE CREDIT: Krakenimages.com/Shutterstock.com.
