Healthcare’s Hardest Prescription

Eight days until Christmas. Permission granted to actually rest.

There’s something beautifully ironic about healthcare workers — the very people who tell others to rest, hydrate, and take care of themselves — being the worst at following their own advice.

So here’s my simple message as we close out this year:

You don’t have to earn the right to rest. You’ve already earned it, many times over.

This Year We Never Would Have Chosen

This year has demanded a lot from us. Long hours. Challenging choices. The impact of a highly unstable policy environment — the “one big beautiful bill” — just as organizations are trying to reset post‑pandemic. And yet — as usual — we showed up. We cared. We fought for our patients, our colleagues, and the mission that called us to healthcare in the first place.

This is a year we may never have chosen. But it’s also a year we refused to waste.

The Mountains Can Wait

Here’s what I know: We can climb mountains and move health systems forward, but only after we recharge and refocus. Running on empty isn’t noble. It’s unsustainable.

So this holiday season, do something radical:

 Actually unplug. Set the out-of-office. Trust your team. Let go.

 Notice the blessings. Even in the hardest year, there are moments of beauty, connection, and grace. Name them. Let them fill you.

 Be present. Whether it’s a quiet morning with coffee, a chaotic family dinner, or a walk in the cold air — be fully there.

 Honor those who can’t step away. If you’re at the bedside this week, let your presence there be your gift — claim small sacred moments on shift, receive gratitude from patients and teammates, and remember that your work is a holiday act of love.

What We’re Protecting

When you rest, you’re not abandoning your calling — you’re protecting it. You’re preserving your ability to see patients as people, to lead with compassion, and to find meaning in the work that matters most.

The problems will still be there when you return. But you’ll face them with clearer eyes, a steadier heart, and renewed purpose.

To every healthcare worker and leader reading this:

Thank you for what you’ve given this year. Thank you for showing up when it was hard. Thank you for protecting hope when cynicism would have been easier.

Now give yourself the gift you’ve been giving everyone else all year long: Permission to truly rest and recharge.

The mountains will still be there on the other side of the holidays. And you’ll be ready to move them.