Farewell and Thank You: This Light Will Never Go Out

You might or might not recognize my name. I’ve spoken with many of you, even had a chance to meet some of you in person. My goal, however, has always been to let you do the talking.

In 2019, I arrived at OSM as a tech journalist who’d never covered health care but always wanted the opportunity. I didn’t know arthroscopy from arthroplasty, but I knew how to thoroughly research any topic thrown my way to conduct informed conversations with experts, researchers and, most importantly, those working every day on the dynamic mission of outpatient surgery. I dove right in, full immersion, and never looked back. Not a single day of my time here has felt like “work” – even though the work has at times been extremely difficult. It’s been, without question, the most enjoyable stretch of my career.

While I’ve learned a whole lot about this industry, I am not, nor will I ever be, an “expert” in outpatient surgery. You are. You’re in the trenches day after day, doing the work, advancing your practice. It has been the thrill of my career to speak with you, to tell your stories, explore your pain points, spotlight your opportunities, detail your struggles and your triumphs. In the process, I hope my reporting opened your eyes to fresh insights and information that can help you in your extremely important work.

I couldn’t have done it without my three editors-in-chief – Dan O’Connor, Dan Cook and our current leader Jared Bilski – managing editor Adam Taylor and our publishers, OSM founder Stan Herrin and Bea Ebeling. They set unshakeable standards of excellence, encouraged editorial independence and set me free to dive into every aspect of outpatient surgery. Despite writing years of print articles and emails, I forever feel as if I just got started, that there is so much meat left on the bone that I haven’t had a chance to dig into about this wonderful, vital industry that literally transforms lives every day.

You’ve freely shared your expertise and experience, showed patience and grace when asked for clarifications, and provided novel information and insight that encouraged me to drill further down into things I might not have considered when I received my assignments. Nothing has made me happier than a prominent surgeon, dedicated administrator or talented perioperative pro saying, “Thank you, that’s such a great question that no one ever asks me, and it’s so important.”

Every one of our interactions has been rooted in kindness, understanding, curiosity and a mutual desire to move the industry forward. As OSM closes shop after 25 years, I want to thank you for your generosity, thoughtfulness, honesty and willingness to speak with us at the virtual drop of a hat. You are the most active, engaged, appreciative and inclusive community I’ve ever covered.

When I attended conferences, I’d always hear variations of, “I love your magazine. There’s so much useful stuff in there. Thank you.” People have told me they can’t live without each new issue, keep copies in the breakroom, use our content in huddles or post articles prominently on bulletin boards.

It’s been that way for 25 years. In a perfect world, the lights wouldn’t go out on OSM and the community that’s grown around it since 2000. But life goes on. I hope to continue my passion: documenting your mission. I hope our work has had a positive impact, made your work a little easier, made your patients and staff a little healthier, happier and safer.

It has been an honor. I have such great admiration for all of you, and wish you the absolute best. I sincerely hope to speak with you again someday.

Be safe, be well and keep making a difference. OSM