We like to believe we have time for everything. For example, we build businesses, acquire property, and stack up achievements, operating under the comfortable illusion that the end of the story is somewhere far off in the distant future. But forty-five years on the front lines of emergency medicine and anesthesiology will strip you of that illusion very quickly, especially when you have served in the ER. Eventually, you learn that life can pivot from perfectly normal to permanently altered in the span of a single heartbeat. And if you haven’t put your financial “house in order,” the chaos left behind can tear a family apart long after the medical crisis has ended.
This reality hit home for me through the devastating aftermath of a patient’s passing, a cautionary tale I share in my book, There is a Bomb in My Vagina: Short Medical Stories from 45 years in Practice.
I watched a prominent, incredibly wealthy Texas real estate family get completely fractured when the matriarch of the family was a force of nature, accumulating vast tracts of land, commercial properties, and immense generational wealth. She had every intention of organizing her estate. She talked about it, planned it, and knew exactly how she wanted her legacy distributed to protect her children. But she kept pushing the actual paperwork down the road, assuming there would always be a tomorrow. The irony is that tomorrow never came. She passed away suddenly, leaving behind a massive empire but absolutely no legal will.
What followed was a slow-motion disaster that no medicine could fix. Without a legal roadmap, the state stepped in, and the family dynamic imploded. Intended inheritances morphed into bitter legal warfare. Brothers and sisters who had spent holidays together suddenly faced each other across a courtroom, flanked by high-priced attorneys. Massive chunks of the estate she had spent a lifetime building were swallowed up by endless probate court battles, legal fees, and avoidable tax penalties. The real tragedy wasn’t just the loss of the money; it was the permanent destruction of the family’s relationships.
As physicians, we often talk about a “good death” where pain is managed, dignity is preserved, and families are supported. But a crucial part of that dignity happens before you ever enter a hospital room, leaving your affairs in a tangled mess that would shift the burden of your unfinished business onto the people grieving your loss.
While it is easy to avoid estate planning because it forces us to confront our own mortality, but true love and responsibility mean looking that discomfort in the eye. Protecting your family isn’t just about diet, exercise, or health insurance; it is about ensuring that if the unpredictable happens, your wishes are legally unassailable. You should not be leaving your legacy to a probate judge. Put your financial house in order today, because the ER doors are always open, and the clock is always ticking.
To know the whole story and many other tales throughout the journey of my 45 years in the practice of Emergency Medicine and Anesthesiology, please read my book, There is a Bomb in my Vagina: Short Medical Stories from 45 Years in Practice. Each short story is based on actual events and meant to entertain as well as provide some insight into a career in ER Medicine and the practice of Anesthesia.
Head to Amazon to purchase your copy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/196964446X/
