New directions for the Academy

Abstract

Thank you for the opportunity to serve as your president these past 2 years. As my term comes to a close, I want to spend this time talking with you about our Academy, our specialty, and our future. On September 17, 1955, in rural northern Wisconsin, my future seemed pretty bleak. What had begun one evening as a headache and muscle stiffness, seemingly from freshman football, turned terrifying the next morning when I fell flat on my face unable to walk, and then mortifying a day later when ol' Doc Hirschboeck pronounced it poliomyelitis. Polio. For a 13-year-old boy with dreams of replacing Bart Starr as the Green Bay Packer's quarterback, it seemed a death sentence. But during my 11 months of treatment and rehabilitation, I became fascinated by medicine and the doctors who treated me-what they could do, how they could help, and the respect in which they were held. Despite using a wheelchair-37 years before access ramps, handicapped parking spots, and the Americans With Disabilities Act-I determined to become a part of the wonderful world of medicine. What a wonderful world it has opened to me these past 31 years-capped by the privilege of serving as your president, especially at such a critical juncture in our history. As with many specialties, the past years have been good-even golden-times for neurologists, both in our classrooms and laboratories as well as in our examining rooms. Our prestige, our clinical capabilities, and, yes, even our income have grown better each year. But you know as well as I that those days are over. Medicine has changed markedly this past decade. The forces of managed care, the rise of the muscle of third-party payers, the devaluing of research and education, the spiraling-seemingly out-of-control-costs had us, as my young daughter Kari used to …