From ‘You Can’t Do That’ to ‘Watch Me’: Two Women’s Journeys to Becoming Neurology Chairs

The Hilly and Looping Route: Dr. Greene’s Story

I began my career as a neuroscience researcher at the University of Arizona during undergraduate studies —a background that helped me do very well with getting into medical school. My research continued in medical school and I was awarded a Howard Hughes fellowship studying neuroplasticity at the University of Washington, Department of Neurosurgery. I initially thought I wanted to be a neurosurgeon.

There was just one problem. It was very hard to find female neurosurgeons to be a mentor, plus I certainly didn’t see any who were mothers. Becoming a mother was important to me, and while my male neurosurgical mentors were understanding and tried to be reassuring, I worried.  How would I be able to have an academic neurosurgical career and be a mother?

Ultimately, I decided that becoming a parent and finding work/family balance was important to me, so I decided neurocritical care was a more lifestyle-friendly choice and would allow me more time to participate in research and education.

I matched into the Washington University’s Barnes-Jewish Neurology residency program and, while gaining experience at a top 10 institution for neurology, I had my first baby. From there, I accepted a neurocritical care fellowship at Johns Hopkins Hospital, where I became the first woman with a child to participate in that fellowship. I had mentors telling me I had the personality and skills to become a university Department Chair one day.

However, I could feel the mold that my mentors and I desired for me was breaking. While my peers conducted research and authored papers during their fellowships, I honed my patient care skills and devoted the limited time I had left to my child. While the part of me that yearned to excel in research felt a bit defeated, I took the opportunity to continue growing my expertise while raising my child the way I wanted.

Lesson learned: Have the flexibility and courage to choose goals that align with your life plan—which may mean changing career paths altogether.

Fresh out of training, I made another career pivot. I didn’t feel that it was feasible to be an excellent mother, and an academic clinician scientist, so I went into private practice at Novant Health’s Forsyth Medical Center in North Carolina. The scariest part of this decision were the voices in my head from professors in the past: “If you jump off the train, you can’t get back on it.”

When opportunities present themselves to pivot again back to a path once traveled, consider it. In my sixth year of private practice, I got a phone call from a friend who was chair of neurosurgery at The Ohio State University Medical Center. He was looking for a neurointensivist to start a new neurocritical care unit that the institution did not have.

After some internal debate, I decided to make the move back to Ohio State. In many ways this was a step-up but also a humbling experience. In North Carolina I was chief of neurology, with all the responsibilities and respect that came with it. In Ohio, I would become a 40-year-old assistant professor working out of a tiny office, even though I was a “founding medical director”. But it was an opportunity to reconnect with my first love: teaching and research.

Coming into that position as a single mom presented a specific challenge: My allotted moving budget did not cover the search and initiation fees of hiring a nanny, even though I still had money left to get reimbursed. I stood my ground and insisted that this was a legitimate relocation cost for someone expected to work outside of daycare and school hours. While I didn’t win that battle for myself, the organization did later update their policy to include childcare finding fees as a basic moving cost.

Lesson learned: Standing up for better conditions breaks down barriers for those who will come after you.

In Ohio, I built a successful neurocritical care unit, as the founding medical director of the NCCU for The Ohio State University Medical Center, and also became the founding program director for the fellowship. I also married again to another neurointensivist working at Ohio State, Dr. Michel Torbey, and we later came to UNM Health Sciences Center together.

Cue the next curve in the road! How could we, as two married leaders within the same discipline, simultaneously advance our careers without bringing our integrity into question?

My solution was to excel in a niche that could be my own, unrelated to my husband’s position at the organization. That way, I could define my own path and no one could claim my success was handed to me.

I advanced at UNM HSC, expanded my portfolio in education, and became a block chair at the School of Medicine for Doctoring, a student mentor and a career advisor. These experiences truly rounded out my career in academics.

Recently, I was contacted by St. Louis University as a potential candidate for the Chair of Neurology at the SLU School of Medicine and SSM Health. Specifically, they wanted someone with private sector interaction skills and experience running a traditional academic department—the very skills I have built along my atypical leadership path. After a rigorous and competitive interview process, I was offered the position. My children are adults now and they, with my husband, are supportive of this new path. So, I have ultimately come back to what my mentors once thought I could be, no matter how many curves and loops I took.  

Lesson learned: It’s OK to take a unique path—it may even distinguish you from your peers.

Related reading: A Day in the Life of a Neuro ICU Resident

The Route of Roadblocks and Snares: Dr. Shin’s Story

I came to the U.S. from South Korea in 1998 with my life all planned out—or so I thought. As a senior chemistry major, my goal was to study in the U.S. for a short time, return home, get a job, and start a family.

But my plans quickly changed and set me on the path for a future in neurology leadership.

While studying in America, my host mother endured several surgeries and I helped care for her. Witnessing the US healthcare system from a caregiver’s perspective and comparing that to my own experiences as a pediatric patient in Korea opened my eyes to how advanced medicine was in the US—and motivated me to stay and work toward becoming a doctor in the States. 

Everyone around me said, “You can’t do that, you’re just here on a student visa.” But I was determined to prove myself.

I transferred to Penn State and finished my undergrad. From there, I attended medical school and completed my residency at Wake Forest University. I started a family and launched into my neurology fellowship at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston.

Lesson learned: Trust in your capabilities.

As a neurologist, I strongly desired the chance to build a comprehensive epilepsy program with a busy epilepsy monitoring unit (EMU). I found such an opportunity at the University of North Carolina. As I worked to build the program, I related well with patients and had a great rapport with my colleagues. However, I struggled with departmental resources.

I pushed ahead with the naïve view that if I started successful epilepsy surgery program well with neurosurgery and built a successful EMU, the resources I needed would follow. Instead, I hit a roadblock: Everyone was fighting for the same scarce resources. I kept working hard, but when the funding at staffing didn’t come, I got burned out.

So, I started to look elsewhere for opportunities—and I began to recognize my value.

I received an outside offer letter and leveraged it to demonstrate my skill, which helped me negotiate and build what became one of the largest neuromodulation RNS centers in the mid-Atlantic region, outpacing other medical centers in the area at the time.

Lesson learned: When departmental priorities are different, hard work may not be enough—and guilt will only slow you down. Learning self-advocacy and the power of negotiation will help you succeed.

Despite the glow of success, I began to struggle with how to grow further. Then I came across a posting from UNM HSC looking for new faculty leader. I reached out to Dr. Michel Torbey and immediately connected with him professionally. My vision of building an epilepsy program aligned with his, and the next thing I knew, I was joining UNM HSC.

Coming to UNM HSC was a big culture shift. Previous environments made it easy to doubt myself and confuse being ambitious with being demanding. UNM HSC leaders embrace equality and encourage growth; I was able to thrive in my career here.

Lesson learned: Find an environment that encourages you to flourish—a place where you can contribute and feel that you belong.

Dr. Torbey supported me as I identified problems and made changes that improved our epilepsy services and education. Along with the other leadership, the section grew, and I advanced my academic leadership journey to become vice chair.

After nearly 3 years in this position, my confidence was riding high, but I didn’t yet consider myself to be “chairperson material.” But my mentor saw my potential and encouraged me to reach for more. So, I put myself out there and realized that I had the people skills to excel as a leader—and I accepted the role of Chair of Neurology at the University of Tennessee.

Once I saw the potential to build and optimize Neurology program at Tennessee, I knew it was my next calling, and all the leadership training and experience I’ve accumulated at UNM HSC has prepared me well for a job as chair. I am thrilled to start my next chapter of leadership journey there.

Lesson learned: When your mentor expresses their confidence in you, listen—even if it means leaving your comfort zone.

Tips for Leadership Excellence

Succeeding in leadership requires continual self-reflection and self-improvement—and it means putting your best foot forward for those who work with you. Here are a few leadership practices we’ve found invaluable throughout our journeys:

• Really get to know the people you work with. Identify their strengths and weaknesses so you can get them in the right situations to be successful.
• Interpersonal relationships are key. A long and fruitful career is much easier to create if you build bridges rather than burn them.
• Accept that life happens. The people you lead will have issues in their home life, in their health, and in their family's health—it’s the norm, not the exception. Helping them weather these storms will create loyalty, mutual respect, and the sense that you're all working for something greater.
• Give people the tools to be successful. They can only get so far on hard work alone—and they’ll burn out if they aren’t properly supported.
• Do what you can where you are. Chipping away at workplace bias and double standards is good for you and your organization, and it is a great example to future neurologists.