With a confirmed date for retiring from my pathology practice firmly set in crumbling concrete the questions as to what I will do with my time in my post-doc life have become more frequent.
My previous post on the topic dealt with the obvious; become a speaker, a pharmacy rep, an IT specialist, or a medical writer. Those all sounded like possibilities when I wrote that blog a few years ago. But recently someone dubbed me (and Cooper the loyal pooch) a posse and now I know–that is what I want to be!
I am not going to tell you about the incident that led to my being anointed with the moniker, but as soon as I heard about it, I knew that occupation fit. I just love the way it is going to look on my future business card. “Les Raff Medical Consultant/Posse Guy.”
Now I know “posse” has a few definitions. It may mean someone’s “crew,” or a bunch of rappers getting together to cut or track or two. But that’s not the kind of posse I want to be.
Nope, I am going for the classic definition: a body of persons summoned by a sheriff to assist in preserving the public peace usually in an emergency. I want to go back to the Wild West…or at least to the Yellowstone Ranch.
I can see it now. The Yellowstone brand on my chest, over my heart. The theme music streams through my head. Dutton gets out the word that rustlers are headed towards our town. I kiss my ranch-wife goodbye, pack my pistols in their holsters, saddle up Peacekeeper my trusty stallion, and head towards my destiny.
Sadly, my fantasy ends right there. I just don’t know what happens next. I have never sat through The Good the Bad and the Ugly, or The Magnificent Seven, and am only on season one of Yellowstone. I’m not sure what crimes rustlers actually commit. And to be honest and transparent, I can barely ride a pony — and if I ever had to use a firearm I would undoubtedly shoot my own face off. But damn, I think I look good in a cowboy hat.
So I may not chase the dream. It is most likely that my retirement life will be very full and rewarding but a little less thrilling than being a posse. But I am warning you–don’t go rustling on my front lawn or the Raff Posse is gonna get you!
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