After more than 30 years as a psychiatrist, I retired. The “Got Junk” guys hauled off the last of my office furniture, and the five rooms of my office space sat as empty as my schedule. I had gone from college to medical school to psychiatric residency without a break. After my training, I married, and with my biological clock ticking away, my husband, Fred, and I had three daughters in four years. At 64, I found myself for the first time, facing a future without a road map.
Now, I was home, sharing space with my husband, who had retired before me. This alone was a tectonic shift. What would it mean for us? How would we cope?
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