Worry
I’m often asked how I choose what topic to write about in my Blog. The truth is most ideas come to me during long walks or in the quiet of morning meditation. But lately, it feels like the themes are choosing me. I try to write about what’s happening in real time — issues that affect our business, our team, our providers, and the people we serve. I steer clear of politics and controversy, even when the temptation to weigh in is strong. My goal is simple: to share, to inspire, and never to offend.
Alfred E. Neuman was the iconic face of the now-defunct Mad Magazine, which began its run in 1952. The magazine was known for its political satire, offbeat cartoons, and the legendary back-page foldout that — when creased just right — revealed an entirely different image beneath the surface. His tag line was “What, me worry?” More recently is a Tom Petty lyric that comes to mind: “Most things I worry about never happen anyway.” I believe that. And yet, the worry doesn’t always go away.
The early part of this year has been a season of closing chapters. We officially shut down our treatment center in Davie, Florida, to focus fully on our virtual practice. More recently, my wife and I traveled to our North Carolina home to begin the process of preparing it for sale. We don’t have children, so the usual markers of time — first days of school, graduations, packing for summer camp — don’t shape our calendar. Sure, we have nieces and nephews, but those moments are often marked with a card or a quick text. Our last major milestone was our wedding in 2010. Life since then has been relatively smooth. Even buying the North Carolina house in 2021 went well, especially for an out-of-state purchase. The point is, we have shared a pretty long run without the usual markers to indicate it’s time for a change.
That feeling of little interruption began to get me thinking about what next? So I began to do some math and realized it may be time for a change. With the changes unfolding — and the certainty about what comes next — carry a weight I haven’t felt before. Maybe it’s because I’m planning for retirement and preparing to transition our company to the next leaders. I have been laying the foundation for ONE-FED’s next chapter — one that will carry forward the mission we’ve built, even after I step back. That truth is both sobering and exciting. Like most things in life, it’s filled with both uncertainty and possibility.
I’ve avoided Facebook for most — if not all — of my adult life. The posts usually revolve around children, new purchases, or taking jabs at the opposing political side. But since launching ONE-FED, it was suggested that we strengthen our social media presence. So, every now and then, I find myself scrolling through our page. Recently, I came across a Facebook group called Epic Retirement Club. Between that and the steady stream of USPS “last shift” photos in my feed, I started to seriously think about retirement. The truth is, I’m in an enviable position — I genuinely enjoy what I do and find real satisfaction in it. But maybe, just like the blog topics that seem to find me, the idea of retirement is beginning to find me, too.
True to form, I dug in — to determine if the timing was right, if the finances were in order, if my team was ready to take the baton — and began setting a course of action. This process unfolded alongside the closure of our treatment center, which we began planning back in early November. Now that our operation is firmly in order, it’s time to set the wheels in motion to update the systems, processes, and services ONE-FED provides—without me at the helm.
The truth is, my team has been running the show since we began focusing on Federal Workers’ Compensation back in 2017. They’re more than ready. Still, even with diligent research, expert financial oversight, thorough market analysis, and a capable, caring team — do I have concerns? Of course I do. Any major transition brings uncertainty and struggle. And this transition has not been without any curveballs. Cue the helicopters with the Roy family from Succession, landing at the family home on Long Island. Not quite. But the fear isn’t about losing purpose. I have plans for that. I’m confident there’s more to accomplish, more to offer, after this chapter closes.
I offer these thoughts to share that there is flesh and bone behind our brand. And even as the CEO, and as a company — we never lose sight of the struggle each claimant faces on their road to recovery. Because truthfully, everyone is dealing with something we may be unaware of. Thankfully, every new patient gives us the opportunity to demonstrate our commitment and reaffirm our purpose.
