In the emergency room, time has a peculiar shape. Sometimes it races — a chaotic blur of alarms, voices, and urgent hands. Other times it slows to a painful stretch, as families sit vigil at a bedside, waiting for a heart to steady or a breath to return. I have spent decades moving through these moments, trained to act quickly, to fix what can be fixed, to stabilize what is fragile, and to bear witness when medicine reaches its limits.

And yet, as I have grown older — as my own children have become adults and grandchildren have entered my life to brighten it beyond imagination — I find myself thinking less about how to save life, and more about how to shape it. Not just how long we live, but how we inhabit the years we are given.

This is what has led me to a deeper inquiry into longevity, wellness, and aging. For me, healing has never been only about curing disease; it has been about helping people live more fully. Longevity, in that sense, is not merely a medical project; it is a human one. I have just finished my first podcast, created with a foray into the incredible abilities of AI, in which I explored topics ranging from osteoporosis and physical resilience to the broader question of what it means to age well. I hope you’ll enjoy listening to it today (see below); it’ll take just 15 minutes of your time, and I welcome your comments.

We are often told that midlife and retirement are times to slow down, to ease up, to rest. And certainly, rest has its place. I have seen, both in my patients and in my own family, how disorienting it can be when familiar roles fall away. When work ends, when children grow up, when our identities shift — we can feel unmoored. And yet, this can also be an invitation: to rediscover why we are here, beyond titles and tasks. Retirement, for example, does not have to mean slowing down or easing up, but redefining our purpose.

For me, purposeful living has always meant service — not only in medicine, but in everyday life. Showing up for others. Listening deeply. Offering kindness. Teaching. Caring. Purpose does not have to be grand or public to be meaningful. Sometimes it is as simple as being present with compassion. It’s how this blog, the CURE, was inspired – by the desire of my medical students “to make a difference”!

In thinking about aging well, my friend Lisa recently referred me to the work of Arthur C. Brooks, who identifies seven factors that most reliably predict happiness and health as we grow older: don’t smoke, limit alcohol, eat well, exercise regularly, keep learning and stay mentally curious, love yourself and others, and have a practiced way to deal with suffering. Lisa and I were both struck by the inclusion of coping strategies for suffering in his list. It’s perhaps a bow to a bit of Buddhist philosophy: how we suffer is also how we reach for happiness. Pain is unavoidable; as we age, we accrete suffering by virtue of life’s inevitable blows – some of us being hit harder than others. Russ Harris addresses this topic in his book “The Reality Slap”. Those seven factors are a lot to unpack and a subject worthy of further discussion (stay tuned for my next blog!).

What I hope — for myself, for my readers, for anyone standing at the threshold of retirement, midlife, or any significant turning point or challenge in one’s life — is that we come to see this stage not as a re-thinking of goals and purpose – a chance to become more intentional and fully alive.

Yes, we can tend to our bones and muscles. Yes, we can eat well and move our bodies. But we must also cultivate our inner lives: our capacity to love, to learn, to endure hardship with grace, and to continue making a difference in the lives of others. In this way, with thoughtful lifestyle choices and a steady commitment to purpose and meaning, we can slide into our future years not as spectators, but as active participants — still contributing, still caring, still healing the world in small, quiet ways.

And that, to me, is the most beautiful medicine of all.