Entering the third year of the coronavirus pandemic, I finally broke. I was a relentless optimist during 鈥淐OVID Times鈥濃�攖reating and soothing the ill and the anxious, but by the spring of 鈥�23, I just burned out. 鈥淚t鈥檚 like that final scene in The Perfect Storm,鈥� I would tell friends. 鈥淲eathering catastrophe only to be upended by a rogue wave.鈥�

Burnout is not necessarily reducible. One cannot often identify a single cause. Nevertheless, I sought a culprit. My marriage was tight, my friends were supportive, my Pomeranian Finch remained the cutest creature on the planet. The world was returning to normal. But there was that patient portal! Like most physicians, I was getting many more messages than I had before the pandemic and was spending multiple hours a day answering them. I told my husband that I could fill my entire day just responding to patient messages and never actually examine anyone.