Redefining Risk: Lessons from Medicine, Finance, and Spaceflight

At The White Coat Investor, we talk about risk and cost all the time—often in terms of the ability to make money or the likelihood of losing it. As the first female medical astronaut to ride in space last year, I think about risk differently.

Achieving my lifelong goal of going to space was worth the 40 years of work it took to get there. I had to decide early on that the potential cost of losing my life in pursuit of that goal was better than the other: never taking a chance. That decision framework—deliberately choosing rather than automatically avoiding risk—has shaped every major point in my career.

Not letting the Fear of Failure hold you back

In my current role as a teacher and consultant for doctors who want to launch and build expert witness businesses (my four-week course, Expert Witness Induction School, opened to new arrivals on January 26), I see clear parallels. Many practitioners want to develop new skills, increase financial flexibility, and regain a sense of professional agency. But the fear of failure often stops them. The good news is that clinical training already qualifies doctors to work as specialists. Deciding to lead and create something new in the face of uncertainty is a difficult step.

One consistent thread in my work—as a teacher and Space Camp Crew trainer—is helping people recognize and use skills they didn’t realize they had. In the United States, our legal system relies on peer judges, most of whom have no medical training, to decide the outcome of complex medical cases. Physicians and other practitioners are uniquely qualified to serve as experts in this process—not as lawyers, but as educators.

We already do this work every day in medicine: explaining diseases, risks, uncertainties, and outcomes to patients and families. The professional testimony function is simply another area of ​​that same responsibility—to interpret complex information clearly, accurately, and ethically.

When I was a Space Camp Crew instructor in college, I taught high school students—a few years younger than me—to launch, fly, and land a spacecraft. I learned those skills by first going to camp myself, learning more, and then developing the confidence to teach others. That development—learning, putting things together, and teaching under stress—is second nature to doctors.

It’s also one of our most transferable and underappreciated professional skills.

More info here:

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Diversity of Pathfinders

In studying the dynamic characteristics of Blue Origin astronauts, the most common characteristic among them is leadership. Recently, there have been significant changes in communication, storytelling, philanthropy, and education. These changes reflect a broader shift in space exploration: from the singular goal of reaching space to continuing that mission for the benefit of Earth.

My group of six called ourselves the Pathfinders because of our various paths to space, symbolically shown in our mission piece. The caduceus symbolizes my work as a doctor. Our partners had diverse backgrounds, including IT, education, diplomacy, business, and mountaineering (to name a few). Yes, Mark Rocket has a career in rocketry (and he’s from New Zealand, home to the Kea bird)! The commercial astronaut workforce continues to be more diverse in background, expertise, and perspective—helping more people see the potential path to space and the shared benefits that follow.

If we focus exclusively on the potential loss, we miss the opportunity to gain. Going into space, building businesses, and leading organizations has taught me that the bigger the goal, the harder it is to achieve—but also the more rewarding the impact, both personally and on others.

Some critics derided the launch of the all-female NS-31 that happened just before my flight, missing the point. That campaign was among the most diverse to date, not because they were all women but because of the breadth of skills, ideas, and experiences represented. Never before has a group of workers come together at such a distance to communicate the meaning of space exploration, conduct research, and demonstrate how people from different backgrounds can come together around a shared goal.

More info here:

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Redefining My Medical Career . . . Again

Since my flight in May 2025, I am often asked what it was like to be in space. No, I didn’t see aliens. The landing was even more terrifying than the launch—because if we failed to land safely, the rest of the mission wouldn’t matter. I am also asked how, when I am 51 years old and have achieved my loftiest dreams, how do I get back to everyday tasks like grocery shopping, checking the mail, or doing laundry.

The answer is that I do them with pleasure. I make it known that my goals I gave everything I had—not just to fulfill them but to show others that someone like me, who might look like them, can pursue extraordinary goals, too.

After landing, during an interview near the capsule (you can see it in the video below), I was asked what qualities I had as a doctor that made me a good astronaut. My response was love and compassion. Doctors do not choose our patients; we care about anyone who comes to us. One of the most important moments in my flight was floating above the ground and turning inward to look at my colleagues—just as I would in a hospital or clinic, leading a team in a difficult task. That sense of responsibility and connection is shared by doctors and astronauts alike.

The professional witness work was one of the tools that allowed me to redefine my medical work and build more financial flexibility, including investing in real estate and the development of educational programs for other doctors. I wish more physicians viewed the work of expert witnesses as a normal extension of the medical profession—no different from peer review, regulatory service, or quality improvement. At its core, it is the work of leadership. Building a tolerance for risk and enjoying the reward of accomplishing difficult tasks—tasks I worked on every day in my role as an expert witness on building new businesses—were important steps in my journey to space.

Choosing leadership means choosing action over inaction, despite the risks. We often say that difficult things are not “rocket science,” but think about the complexity and risk involved in building bridges, hospitals, or the infrastructure that people rely on every day. Developing resilience is what shapes us into the people—and professionals—we want to be.

When the New Shepard rocket’s engines fire, it takes seven seconds to build enough thrust for liftoff. You are warned ahead of time that you will see flames and hear vibrations—but you are not set on fire. That assurance is important. In space, I experienced three minutes of weightlessness, looking down at Earth with the knowledge that decades of effort had culminated in that moment. Confirmation was priceless.

Whether you’re going to space, we all have a goal that helps us know we’re living our best. It starts with one step.

Have you ever taken risks in your work to make it more fulfilling? Did it work as you hoped? Why or why not? Is there anything you could have done differently?