Andrea Goto

Your odds are 1 in 562,400.

Or, as Bill Mallon, the past president and cofounder of the International Society of Olympic Historians, has said, aspiring athletes have a 0.00000178% chance of making the Games.

Now imagine the odds of making the Olympics and then going on to become a physician. And maybe it’s not surprising that those who have done it credit the training they received as Olympic athletes as key to their success in medicine.

“Dealing with poor outcomes and having to get back up and try again,” said Olympian-turned-physician Ogonna Nnamani Silva, MD, “that reiterative process of trying to obtain perfection in your craft — that’s athletics 101.”

This connection isn’t just anecdotal. It has been discussed in medical journals and examined in surveys. The consensus is that, yes, there are specific characteristics elite athletes develop that physicians — regardless of their athletic background — can learn to apply to their work in medicine.

Maybe it’s something else, too: Certain mindsets don’t worry about long odds. They seek out crucibles again and again without concern for the heat involved. Because the outcome is worth it.

Here are four athletes who became high-performing physicians and how they did it.
 

The Gymnast/The Pediatric Surgeon

“Gymnastics helped me build a skill set for my career,” said Canadian Olympic gymnast-turned-pediatric orthopedic surgeon Lise Leveille, MD. “It led me to be successful as a medical student and ultimately obtain the job that I want in the area that I want working with the people that I want.”

The skills Dr. Leveille prizes include time management, teamwork, goal setting, and a strong work ethic, all of which propel an athlete to the crucial moment of “performance.”

“I miss performing,” said Dr. Leveille. “It defines who I was at that time. I miss being able to work toward something and then deliver when it counted” — like when she qualified for the 1998 Commonwealth games in Kuala Lumpur at 16.

The Canadian national team came third at that event, and Dr. Leveille built on that success at the Pan American Games, taking gold on the balance beam and as a team, and then qualifying for the Olympics at the 1999 World Championships. She competed in the team and five individual events at the 2000 Olympic Games in Sydney.

Though Dr. Leveille started gymnastics at age 3, her parents, both teachers, instilled in her the importance of education. Gymnastics opened academic doors for her, like being recruited to Stanford where she completed her undergraduate degree in biomedical engineering and human biology in 2004 before entering medical school at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver.

Now 41, Dr. Leveille accepts that she’ll never nail another gymnastics routine, but she channels that love of sticking the landing into the operating room at British Columbia Children’s Hospital, also in Vancouver.

“Some of the unknown variables within the operating room and how you deal with those unknown variables is exactly like showing up for a competition,” Dr. Leveille said. “When I have one of those cases where I have to perform under pressure and everything comes together, that’s exactly like nailing your routine when it counts most.”
 

The Pole Vaulter/The Emergency Medicine Physician

Tunisian American pole vaulter Leila Ben-Youssef, MD, had what could be considered a disappointing showing at the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. She collapsed from severe abdominal pain during the opening ceremony and had to be carried out. On the day of competition, she was still suffering. “I could barely run down the runway,” she recalled. “I cleared one bar. I was just happy to have been able to do that.”

When Dr. Ben-Youssef, who grew up in Montana, returned home, she underwent emergency surgery to remove the source of the pain: A large, benign tumor.

While some might be devastated by such bad luck, Dr. Ben-Youssef focuses on the success of her journey — the fact that she qualified and competed at the Olympics in the first place. The ability to accept setbacks is something she said comes with the territory.

“As an athlete, you’re always facing injury, and someone told me early in my career that the best athletes are the ones that know how to manage their expectations because it’s bound to happen,” she said. “So, there is disappointment. But recognizing that I did qualify for the Olympics despite being uncomfortable and having issues, I was still able to meet my goal.”

Prior to the games, Dr. Ben-Youssef had been accepted into medical school at the University of Washington School of Medicine at Montana State University in Bozeman, Montana. Thankfully, the school was supportive of Dr. Ben-Youssef’s Olympic dreams and allowed her to begin her studies a month behind her class. Upon her return from Beijing, she spent the rest of her medical school training with her head down, grinding.

“Medicine is hard,” said Dr. Ben-Youssef. “It’s grueling both physically and emotionally, and I think that’s similar to any elite sport. You’re going to deal with challenges and disappointment. I think having gone through that as an athlete really prepares you for the medical education system, for residency, and even for day-to-day work.”

Now a physician working in emergency medicine in Hawaii, Dr. Ben-Youssef feels the setbacks she experienced as an athlete help her connect with her patients as they deal with health challenges.

And as a volunteer pole vaulting coach for a local high school, Dr. Ben-Youssef has been able to surround herself with the positive, joyful energy of athletes. “Emergency medicine is often a sad place,” she said. “But in a sports environment, if people don’t succeed or are injured, there is still that energy there that strives for something, and it’s so fun to be around.”
 

The Rower/The Sports Medicine Specialist

Three-time US Olympic rower Genevra “Gevvie” Stone, MD, wanted to be a doctor even before she gave a thought to rowing. She was in eighth grade when she dislocated her knee for the third time. Her parents took her to a pediatric orthopedist, and Dr. Stone, according to her mom, declared: “That’s what I want to do when I grow up.”

“I’m a very stubborn person, and when I make a decision like that, I usually don’t veer from it,” Dr. Stone said.

That laser focus combined with a deep love of both sports and medicine has served Dr. Stone well. “Becoming a doctor and becoming an Olympian require you to dedicate not just your time and your energy but also your passion to that focus,” she said. “In both, you aren’t going to be successful if you don’t love what you’re doing. Finding the reward in it is what makes it achievable.”

Dr. Stone actually resisted rowing until she was 16 because both of her parents were Olympians in the sport and met on the US team. “It was their thing, and I didn’t want it to be my thing,” she recalled.

Nonetheless, Dr. Stone easily fell into the sport in her late teens and was recruited by Princeton University. “I had grown up around Olympians and kind of took it for granted that if you worked hard enough and were decent at rowing, then you could be one of the best in the world, without really realizing how difficult it would be to achieve that,” she said.

Dr. Stone’s team won the NCAA Championship in 2006 and was invited to try out for the 2008 Olympic team at the US training center after she graduated from college. But she didn’t make it.

Instead, Dr. Stone entered medical school at Tufts University School of Medicine, Boston, thinking her competitive rowing career had come to end. But her love for the sport was still strong, and she realized she wasn’t finished.

After 2 years of medical school, Dr. Stone requested 2 years off so she might have another shot at making the Olympic team. The timing was right. She went to the London Olympics in 2012, graduated from medical school in 2014, and then took 2 more years off to train full time for the 2016 Olympics in Rio where she won silver.

At the 2020 Olympic Games in Tokyo, Dr. Stone took fifth place in the double sculls. While she continues to race the master’s circuit, she’s primarily dedicated to completing her sports medicine fellowship at University of Utah Health.

Fortunately, Dr. Stone’s parents, coaches, and teachers always supported her goals. “No one turned to me and told me I was crazy, just choose medicine or rowing,” she said. “Everyone said that if this is what you want to do, we’re here to support you, and I wouldn’t have been able to do it without that support.”
 

The Volleyball Player/The Plastic Surgeon

Dr. Nnamani Silva’s journey to the Olympics was also paved with an extensive list of supporters, beginning with her parents. And she has taken that sense of collaboration, coordination, and teamwork into her medical career.

The daughter of Nigerian immigrants who came to the United States to escape civil war, Dr. Nnamani Silva said her parents embraced the American dream. “To see what they were able to do with hard work, dedication, and sacrifice, I had no choice but to work hard because I saw their example. And that love for and belief in America was so strong in my house growing up,” she said.

Dreams of practicing medicine came first. A severe asthmatic growing up, Dr. Nnamani Silva recalled having wonderful doctors. “I had so many emergency room visits and hospitalizations,” she said. “But the doctors always gave me hope, and they literally transformed my life. I thought if I could pass that on to my future patients, that would be the greatest honor of my life.”

Volleyball gave Dr. Nnamani Silva the opportunity to attend Stanford, and she took time off during her junior year to train and compete in the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens. She also played for the United States at the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing where the team took silver. Afterward, she continued to play overseas for several years.

At 33, and with a newborn daughter, Dr. Nnamani Silva returned to her original goal of becoming a doctor. She attended the University of California, San Francisco, and is currently a resident in the Harvard Plastic Surgery Program. She includes her husband, parents, and in-laws in this achievement, whom she said “saved” her. “There is no chance I would have finished medical school and survived residency without them.”

As a volleyball player, Dr. Nnamani Silva said she “believes in teams wholeheartedly,” valuing the exchange of energy and skill that she feels brings out the best in people. As a medical student, she initially didn’t realize how her previous life would apply to teamwork in the operating room. But it soon became clear.

“In surgery, when you harness the talents of everyone around you and you create that synergy, it’s an amazing feeling,” she said. And the stakes are often high. “It requires a lot of focus, discipline, determination, and resilience because you’re going to be humbled all the time.” Something athletes know a little bit about.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Your odds are 1 in 562,400.

Or, as Bill Mallon, the past president and cofounder of the International Society of Olympic Historians, has said, aspiring athletes have a 0.00000178% chance of making the Games.

Now imagine the odds of making the Olympics and then going on to become a physician. And maybe it’s not surprising that those who have done it credit the training they received as Olympic athletes as key to their success in medicine.

“Dealing with poor outcomes and having to get back up and try again,” said Olympian-turned-physician Ogonna Nnamani Silva, MD, “that reiterative process of trying to obtain perfection in your craft — that’s athletics 101.”

This connection isn’t just anecdotal. It has been discussed in medical journals and examined in surveys. The consensus is that, yes, there are specific characteristics elite athletes develop that physicians — regardless of their athletic background — can learn to apply to their work in medicine.

Maybe it’s something else, too: Certain mindsets don’t worry about long odds. They seek out crucibles again and again without concern for the heat involved. Because the outcome is worth it.

Here are four athletes who became high-performing physicians and how they did it.
 

The Gymnast/The Pediatric Surgeon

“Gymnastics helped me build a skill set for my career,” said Canadian Olympic gymnast-turned-pediatric orthopedic surgeon Lise Leveille, MD. “It led me to be successful as a medical student and ultimately obtain the job that I want in the area that I want working with the people that I want.”

The skills Dr. Leveille prizes include time management, teamwork, goal setting, and a strong work ethic, all of which propel an athlete to the crucial moment of “performance.”

“I miss performing,” said Dr. Leveille. “It defines who I was at that time. I miss being able to work toward something and then deliver when it counted” — like when she qualified for the 1998 Commonwealth games in Kuala Lumpur at 16.

The Canadian national team came third at that event, and Dr. Leveille built on that success at the Pan American Games, taking gold on the balance beam and as a team, and then qualifying for the Olympics at the 1999 World Championships. She competed in the team and five individual events at the 2000 Olympic Games in Sydney.

Though Dr. Leveille started gymnastics at age 3, her parents, both teachers, instilled in her the importance of education. Gymnastics opened academic doors for her, like being recruited to Stanford where she completed her undergraduate degree in biomedical engineering and human biology in 2004 before entering medical school at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver.

Now 41, Dr. Leveille accepts that she’ll never nail another gymnastics routine, but she channels that love of sticking the landing into the operating room at British Columbia Children’s Hospital, also in Vancouver.

“Some of the unknown variables within the operating room and how you deal with those unknown variables is exactly like showing up for a competition,” Dr. Leveille said. “When I have one of those cases where I have to perform under pressure and everything comes together, that’s exactly like nailing your routine when it counts most.”
 

The Pole Vaulter/The Emergency Medicine Physician

Tunisian American pole vaulter Leila Ben-Youssef, MD, had what could be considered a disappointing showing at the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. She collapsed from severe abdominal pain during the opening ceremony and had to be carried out. On the day of competition, she was still suffering. “I could barely run down the runway,” she recalled. “I cleared one bar. I was just happy to have been able to do that.”

When Dr. Ben-Youssef, who grew up in Montana, returned home, she underwent emergency surgery to remove the source of the pain: A large, benign tumor.

While some might be devastated by such bad luck, Dr. Ben-Youssef focuses on the success of her journey — the fact that she qualified and competed at the Olympics in the first place. The ability to accept setbacks is something she said comes with the territory.

“As an athlete, you’re always facing injury, and someone told me early in my career that the best athletes are the ones that know how to manage their expectations because it’s bound to happen,” she said. “So, there is disappointment. But recognizing that I did qualify for the Olympics despite being uncomfortable and having issues, I was still able to meet my goal.”

Prior to the games, Dr. Ben-Youssef had been accepted into medical school at the University of Washington School of Medicine at Montana State University in Bozeman, Montana. Thankfully, the school was supportive of Dr. Ben-Youssef’s Olympic dreams and allowed her to begin her studies a month behind her class. Upon her return from Beijing, she spent the rest of her medical school training with her head down, grinding.

“Medicine is hard,” said Dr. Ben-Youssef. “It’s grueling both physically and emotionally, and I think that’s similar to any elite sport. You’re going to deal with challenges and disappointment. I think having gone through that as an athlete really prepares you for the medical education system, for residency, and even for day-to-day work.”

Now a physician working in emergency medicine in Hawaii, Dr. Ben-Youssef feels the setbacks she experienced as an athlete help her connect with her patients as they deal with health challenges.

And as a volunteer pole vaulting coach for a local high school, Dr. Ben-Youssef has been able to surround herself with the positive, joyful energy of athletes. “Emergency medicine is often a sad place,” she said. “But in a sports environment, if people don’t succeed or are injured, there is still that energy there that strives for something, and it’s so fun to be around.”
 

The Rower/The Sports Medicine Specialist

Three-time US Olympic rower Genevra “Gevvie” Stone, MD, wanted to be a doctor even before she gave a thought to rowing. She was in eighth grade when she dislocated her knee for the third time. Her parents took her to a pediatric orthopedist, and Dr. Stone, according to her mom, declared: “That’s what I want to do when I grow up.”

“I’m a very stubborn person, and when I make a decision like that, I usually don’t veer from it,” Dr. Stone said.

That laser focus combined with a deep love of both sports and medicine has served Dr. Stone well. “Becoming a doctor and becoming an Olympian require you to dedicate not just your time and your energy but also your passion to that focus,” she said. “In both, you aren’t going to be successful if you don’t love what you’re doing. Finding the reward in it is what makes it achievable.”

Dr. Stone actually resisted rowing until she was 16 because both of her parents were Olympians in the sport and met on the US team. “It was their thing, and I didn’t want it to be my thing,” she recalled.

Nonetheless, Dr. Stone easily fell into the sport in her late teens and was recruited by Princeton University. “I had grown up around Olympians and kind of took it for granted that if you worked hard enough and were decent at rowing, then you could be one of the best in the world, without really realizing how difficult it would be to achieve that,” she said.

Dr. Stone’s team won the NCAA Championship in 2006 and was invited to try out for the 2008 Olympic team at the US training center after she graduated from college. But she didn’t make it.

Instead, Dr. Stone entered medical school at Tufts University School of Medicine, Boston, thinking her competitive rowing career had come to end. But her love for the sport was still strong, and she realized she wasn’t finished.

After 2 years of medical school, Dr. Stone requested 2 years off so she might have another shot at making the Olympic team. The timing was right. She went to the London Olympics in 2012, graduated from medical school in 2014, and then took 2 more years off to train full time for the 2016 Olympics in Rio where she won silver.

At the 2020 Olympic Games in Tokyo, Dr. Stone took fifth place in the double sculls. While she continues to race the master’s circuit, she’s primarily dedicated to completing her sports medicine fellowship at University of Utah Health.

Fortunately, Dr. Stone’s parents, coaches, and teachers always supported her goals. “No one turned to me and told me I was crazy, just choose medicine or rowing,” she said. “Everyone said that if this is what you want to do, we’re here to support you, and I wouldn’t have been able to do it without that support.”
 

The Volleyball Player/The Plastic Surgeon

Dr. Nnamani Silva’s journey to the Olympics was also paved with an extensive list of supporters, beginning with her parents. And she has taken that sense of collaboration, coordination, and teamwork into her medical career.

The daughter of Nigerian immigrants who came to the United States to escape civil war, Dr. Nnamani Silva said her parents embraced the American dream. “To see what they were able to do with hard work, dedication, and sacrifice, I had no choice but to work hard because I saw their example. And that love for and belief in America was so strong in my house growing up,” she said.

Dreams of practicing medicine came first. A severe asthmatic growing up, Dr. Nnamani Silva recalled having wonderful doctors. “I had so many emergency room visits and hospitalizations,” she said. “But the doctors always gave me hope, and they literally transformed my life. I thought if I could pass that on to my future patients, that would be the greatest honor of my life.”

Volleyball gave Dr. Nnamani Silva the opportunity to attend Stanford, and she took time off during her junior year to train and compete in the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens. She also played for the United States at the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing where the team took silver. Afterward, she continued to play overseas for several years.

At 33, and with a newborn daughter, Dr. Nnamani Silva returned to her original goal of becoming a doctor. She attended the University of California, San Francisco, and is currently a resident in the Harvard Plastic Surgery Program. She includes her husband, parents, and in-laws in this achievement, whom she said “saved” her. “There is no chance I would have finished medical school and survived residency without them.”

As a volleyball player, Dr. Nnamani Silva said she “believes in teams wholeheartedly,” valuing the exchange of energy and skill that she feels brings out the best in people. As a medical student, she initially didn’t realize how her previous life would apply to teamwork in the operating room. But it soon became clear.

“In surgery, when you harness the talents of everyone around you and you create that synergy, it’s an amazing feeling,” she said. And the stakes are often high. “It requires a lot of focus, discipline, determination, and resilience because you’re going to be humbled all the time.” Something athletes know a little bit about.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Your odds are 1 in 562,400.

Or, as Bill Mallon, the past president and cofounder of the International Society of Olympic Historians, has said, aspiring athletes have a 0.00000178% chance of making the Games.

Now imagine the odds of making the Olympics and then going on to become a physician. And maybe it’s not surprising that those who have done it credit the training they received as Olympic athletes as key to their success in medicine.

“Dealing with poor outcomes and having to get back up and try again,” said Olympian-turned-physician Ogonna Nnamani Silva, MD, “that reiterative process of trying to obtain perfection in your craft — that’s athletics 101.”

This connection isn’t just anecdotal. It has been discussed in medical journals and examined in surveys. The consensus is that, yes, there are specific characteristics elite athletes develop that physicians — regardless of their athletic background — can learn to apply to their work in medicine.

Maybe it’s something else, too: Certain mindsets don’t worry about long odds. They seek out crucibles again and again without concern for the heat involved. Because the outcome is worth it.

Here are four athletes who became high-performing physicians and how they did it.
 

The Gymnast/The Pediatric Surgeon

“Gymnastics helped me build a skill set for my career,” said Canadian Olympic gymnast-turned-pediatric orthopedic surgeon Lise Leveille, MD. “It led me to be successful as a medical student and ultimately obtain the job that I want in the area that I want working with the people that I want.”

The skills Dr. Leveille prizes include time management, teamwork, goal setting, and a strong work ethic, all of which propel an athlete to the crucial moment of “performance.”

“I miss performing,” said Dr. Leveille. “It defines who I was at that time. I miss being able to work toward something and then deliver when it counted” — like when she qualified for the 1998 Commonwealth games in Kuala Lumpur at 16.

The Canadian national team came third at that event, and Dr. Leveille built on that success at the Pan American Games, taking gold on the balance beam and as a team, and then qualifying for the Olympics at the 1999 World Championships. She competed in the team and five individual events at the 2000 Olympic Games in Sydney.

Though Dr. Leveille started gymnastics at age 3, her parents, both teachers, instilled in her the importance of education. Gymnastics opened academic doors for her, like being recruited to Stanford where she completed her undergraduate degree in biomedical engineering and human biology in 2004 before entering medical school at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver.

Now 41, Dr. Leveille accepts that she’ll never nail another gymnastics routine, but she channels that love of sticking the landing into the operating room at British Columbia Children’s Hospital, also in Vancouver.

“Some of the unknown variables within the operating room and how you deal with those unknown variables is exactly like showing up for a competition,” Dr. Leveille said. “When I have one of those cases where I have to perform under pressure and everything comes together, that’s exactly like nailing your routine when it counts most.”
 

The Pole Vaulter/The Emergency Medicine Physician

Tunisian American pole vaulter Leila Ben-Youssef, MD, had what could be considered a disappointing showing at the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. She collapsed from severe abdominal pain during the opening ceremony and had to be carried out. On the day of competition, she was still suffering. “I could barely run down the runway,” she recalled. “I cleared one bar. I was just happy to have been able to do that.”

When Dr. Ben-Youssef, who grew up in Montana, returned home, she underwent emergency surgery to remove the source of the pain: A large, benign tumor.

While some might be devastated by such bad luck, Dr. Ben-Youssef focuses on the success of her journey — the fact that she qualified and competed at the Olympics in the first place. The ability to accept setbacks is something she said comes with the territory.

“As an athlete, you’re always facing injury, and someone told me early in my career that the best athletes are the ones that know how to manage their expectations because it’s bound to happen,” she said. “So, there is disappointment. But recognizing that I did qualify for the Olympics despite being uncomfortable and having issues, I was still able to meet my goal.”

Prior to the games, Dr. Ben-Youssef had been accepted into medical school at the University of Washington School of Medicine at Montana State University in Bozeman, Montana. Thankfully, the school was supportive of Dr. Ben-Youssef’s Olympic dreams and allowed her to begin her studies a month behind her class. Upon her return from Beijing, she spent the rest of her medical school training with her head down, grinding.

“Medicine is hard,” said Dr. Ben-Youssef. “It’s grueling both physically and emotionally, and I think that’s similar to any elite sport. You’re going to deal with challenges and disappointment. I think having gone through that as an athlete really prepares you for the medical education system, for residency, and even for day-to-day work.”

Now a physician working in emergency medicine in Hawaii, Dr. Ben-Youssef feels the setbacks she experienced as an athlete help her connect with her patients as they deal with health challenges.

And as a volunteer pole vaulting coach for a local high school, Dr. Ben-Youssef has been able to surround herself with the positive, joyful energy of athletes. “Emergency medicine is often a sad place,” she said. “But in a sports environment, if people don’t succeed or are injured, there is still that energy there that strives for something, and it’s so fun to be around.”
 

The Rower/The Sports Medicine Specialist

Three-time US Olympic rower Genevra “Gevvie” Stone, MD, wanted to be a doctor even before she gave a thought to rowing. She was in eighth grade when she dislocated her knee for the third time. Her parents took her to a pediatric orthopedist, and Dr. Stone, according to her mom, declared: “That’s what I want to do when I grow up.”

“I’m a very stubborn person, and when I make a decision like that, I usually don’t veer from it,” Dr. Stone said.

That laser focus combined with a deep love of both sports and medicine has served Dr. Stone well. “Becoming a doctor and becoming an Olympian require you to dedicate not just your time and your energy but also your passion to that focus,” she said. “In both, you aren’t going to be successful if you don’t love what you’re doing. Finding the reward in it is what makes it achievable.”

Dr. Stone actually resisted rowing until she was 16 because both of her parents were Olympians in the sport and met on the US team. “It was their thing, and I didn’t want it to be my thing,” she recalled.

Nonetheless, Dr. Stone easily fell into the sport in her late teens and was recruited by Princeton University. “I had grown up around Olympians and kind of took it for granted that if you worked hard enough and were decent at rowing, then you could be one of the best in the world, without really realizing how difficult it would be to achieve that,” she said.

Dr. Stone’s team won the NCAA Championship in 2006 and was invited to try out for the 2008 Olympic team at the US training center after she graduated from college. But she didn’t make it.

Instead, Dr. Stone entered medical school at Tufts University School of Medicine, Boston, thinking her competitive rowing career had come to end. But her love for the sport was still strong, and she realized she wasn’t finished.

After 2 years of medical school, Dr. Stone requested 2 years off so she might have another shot at making the Olympic team. The timing was right. She went to the London Olympics in 2012, graduated from medical school in 2014, and then took 2 more years off to train full time for the 2016 Olympics in Rio where she won silver.

At the 2020 Olympic Games in Tokyo, Dr. Stone took fifth place in the double sculls. While she continues to race the master’s circuit, she’s primarily dedicated to completing her sports medicine fellowship at University of Utah Health.

Fortunately, Dr. Stone’s parents, coaches, and teachers always supported her goals. “No one turned to me and told me I was crazy, just choose medicine or rowing,” she said. “Everyone said that if this is what you want to do, we’re here to support you, and I wouldn’t have been able to do it without that support.”
 

The Volleyball Player/The Plastic Surgeon

Dr. Nnamani Silva’s journey to the Olympics was also paved with an extensive list of supporters, beginning with her parents. And she has taken that sense of collaboration, coordination, and teamwork into her medical career.

The daughter of Nigerian immigrants who came to the United States to escape civil war, Dr. Nnamani Silva said her parents embraced the American dream. “To see what they were able to do with hard work, dedication, and sacrifice, I had no choice but to work hard because I saw their example. And that love for and belief in America was so strong in my house growing up,” she said.

Dreams of practicing medicine came first. A severe asthmatic growing up, Dr. Nnamani Silva recalled having wonderful doctors. “I had so many emergency room visits and hospitalizations,” she said. “But the doctors always gave me hope, and they literally transformed my life. I thought if I could pass that on to my future patients, that would be the greatest honor of my life.”

Volleyball gave Dr. Nnamani Silva the opportunity to attend Stanford, and she took time off during her junior year to train and compete in the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens. She also played for the United States at the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing where the team took silver. Afterward, she continued to play overseas for several years.

At 33, and with a newborn daughter, Dr. Nnamani Silva returned to her original goal of becoming a doctor. She attended the University of California, San Francisco, and is currently a resident in the Harvard Plastic Surgery Program. She includes her husband, parents, and in-laws in this achievement, whom she said “saved” her. “There is no chance I would have finished medical school and survived residency without them.”

As a volleyball player, Dr. Nnamani Silva said she “believes in teams wholeheartedly,” valuing the exchange of energy and skill that she feels brings out the best in people. As a medical student, she initially didn’t realize how her previous life would apply to teamwork in the operating room. But it soon became clear.

“In surgery, when you harness the talents of everyone around you and you create that synergy, it’s an amazing feeling,” she said. And the stakes are often high. “It requires a lot of focus, discipline, determination, and resilience because you’re going to be humbled all the time.” Something athletes know a little bit about.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

It should come as no surprise that when physicians speak out on social and political issues, there is sometimes a backlash. This can range from the typical trolling that occurs online to rarer cases of professional penalties. Two doctors were fired by NYU Langone Health late last year after they posted social media messages about the Israel-Hamas war. Still, many physicians are not only willing to stand up for what they believe in, but they see it as an essential part of their profession. 
"We're now at a place where doctors need to engage in public advocacy as an urgent part of our job," wrote Rob Davidson, MD, an emergency department physician, at the onslaught of the COVID-19 pandemic. In an Op-Ed piece for The Guardian, Dr. Davidson noted how the virus forced many physicians into becoming "activist doctors," calling for adequate personal protective equipment and correcting misinformation. "What we want above all is for the administration to listen to doctors, nurses, and frontline health workers - and stop playing politics," he wrote. 

'It's Not About Being Political' 

The intersection of medicine and politics is hardly new. Doctors frequently testify before Congress, sharing their expertise on issues concerning public health. This, however, isn't the same as "playing politics." 
"I'm not taking political stances," said Megan Ranney, MD, Dean of the Yale School of Public Health. "Rather, I'm using science to inform best practices, and I'm vocal around the area where I have expertise where we could do collectively better." 
Dr. Ranney's work to end firearm injury and death garnered particular attention when she co-authored an open letter to the National Rifle Association (NRA) in 2018. She wrote the letter in response to a tweet by the organization, admonishing physicians to "stay in their lane" when it comes to gun control.  
Dr. Ranney's letter discussed gun violence as a public health crisis and urged the NRA to "be part of the solution" by joining the collective effort to reduce firearm injury and death through research, education, and advocacy. "We are not anti-gun," she stated. "We are anti-bullet hole," adding that "almost half of doctors own guns." 
The NRA disagreed. When Dr. Ranney testified before Congress during a hearing on gun violence in 2023, NRA spokesperson Billy McLaughlin condemned her testimony as an effort to "dismantle the Second Amendment," calling Dr. Ranney "a known gun control extremist." 
"If you actually read what I write, or if you actually listen to what I say, I'm not saying things on behalf of one political party or another," said Dr. Ranney. "It's not about being political. It's about recognizing our role in describing what's happening and making it clear for the world to see. Showing where, based off of data, there may be a better path to improve health and wellbeing." 
In spite of the backlash, Dr. Ranney has no regrets about being an activist. "In the current media landscape, folks love to slap labels on people that may or may not be accurate. To me, what matters isn't where I land with a particular politician or political party, but how the work that I do improves health for populations." 

When the Need to Act Outweighs the Fear 

Laura Andreson, DO, an ob.gyn, took activism a step further when she joined a group of women in Tennessee to file a suit against the state, the attorney general, and the state board of medical examiners. The issue was the Tennessee's abortion ban, which the suit claimed prevented women from getting "necessary and potentially life-saving medical care."  
Dr. Andreson, who says she was "not at all" politically active in the past, began to realize how the abortion ban could drastically affect her profession and her patients. "I don't know what flipped in me, but I just felt like I could do this," she said. 
Like Dr. Ranney, Dr. Andreson has been as visible as she has been vocal, giving press conferences and interviews, but she acknowledges she has some fears about safety. In fact, after filing the lawsuit, the Center for Reproductive Rights recommended that she go to a website, DeleteMe, that removes personal data from the internet, making it more difficult for people to find her information. "But my need to do this and my desire to do this is stronger than my fears," she added. 
Dr. Andreson, who is part of a small practice, did check with both her coworkers and the hospital administration before moving forward with the lawsuit. She was relieved to find that she had the support of her practice and that there wasn't anything in the hospital bylaws to prevent her from filing the lawsuit. "But the people in the bigger institutions who probably have an even better expert base than I do, they are handcuffed," she said. 
It has been, in Dr. Andreson's words, "a little uncomfortable" being on the board of the Tennessee Medical Association when the Tennessee Board of Medical Examiners is part of the lawsuit. "We're all members of the same group," she said. "But I'm not suing them as individuals; I'm suing them as an entity that is under our government." 
Dr. Andreson said most people have been supportive of her activist work, though she admitted to feeling frustrated when she encounters apathy from fellow ob.gyns. She got little response when she circulated information explaining the abortion laws and trying to get others involved. But she still sees education as being a key part of making change happen.  
"I think advocacy, as someone who is considered a responsible, trustworthy person by your community, is important, because you can sway some people just by educating them," she said. 

Fighting Inequities in Medicine and Beyond 

Christina Chen, MD, says she felt very supported by her medical community at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, when she and 16 other Asian American physicians posted a video on Instagram in 2020 highlighting increased violence and harassment of Asian Americans during COVID-19. It soon went viral, and the Mayo Clinic distributed it across their social media channels. The only negative repercussions Mayo faced were a few posts on social media saying that politics should not be brought into the healthcare space. Dr. Chen disagrees. 
"Social issues and political decisions have direct impact on the health of our communities," Dr. Chen said. "We know that we still have a long way to go to solve health inequities, which is a public health problem, and we all play a huge role in voicing our concerns." 
Activism, however, seems to be more complicated when it involves physicians being critical of inequities within the medical field. Nephrologist, Vanessa Grubbs, MD, MPH, founded the nonprofit Black Doc Village in 2022 to raise awareness about the wrongful dismissal of Black residents and expand the Black physician workforce. 
Dr. Grubbs said that the medical community has not been supportive of her activism. "The reason why I'm no longer in academia is in part because they got very upset with me tweeting about how some trainees are biased in their treatment of attendings," she said. "Senior White men attendings are often treated very differently than junior women of color faculty." 
Dr. Grubbs also expressed her views in 2020 essay in the New England Journal of Medicine where she criticized academic medical institutions for ignoring systemic racism, paying lip service to diversity, equity, and inclusion, and staying "deafeningly silent" when issues of racism are raised. 
Today, Black Doc Village is focused on conducting research that can be used to change policy. And Dr. Grubbs now has the full support of her colleagues at West Oakland Health, in Oakland, California, which aspires to advance the Bay Area Black community's health and dignity. "So, no one here has a problem with me speaking out," she added. 
The emphasis on data-driven activism as opposed to "playing politics," is a recurring theme for many physicians who publicly engage with social issues. 
"It's not partisan," Dr. Ranney said. "Rather, it's a commitment to translating science into actionable steps that can be used regardless of what political party you are in. My job is not to be on one side or the other, but to advance human health." These doctors challenge their critics to explain how such a goal is outside their purview. 
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

It should come as no surprise that when physicians speak out on social and political issues, there is sometimes a backlash. This can range from the typical trolling that occurs online to rarer cases of professional penalties. Two doctors were fired by NYU Langone Health late last year after they posted social media messages about the Israel-Hamas war. Still, many physicians are not only willing to stand up for what they believe in, but they see it as an essential part of their profession. 
"We're now at a place where doctors need to engage in public advocacy as an urgent part of our job," wrote Rob Davidson, MD, an emergency department physician, at the onslaught of the COVID-19 pandemic. In an Op-Ed piece for The Guardian, Dr. Davidson noted how the virus forced many physicians into becoming "activist doctors," calling for adequate personal protective equipment and correcting misinformation. "What we want above all is for the administration to listen to doctors, nurses, and frontline health workers - and stop playing politics," he wrote. 

'It's Not About Being Political' 

The intersection of medicine and politics is hardly new. Doctors frequently testify before Congress, sharing their expertise on issues concerning public health. This, however, isn't the same as "playing politics." 
"I'm not taking political stances," said Megan Ranney, MD, Dean of the Yale School of Public Health. "Rather, I'm using science to inform best practices, and I'm vocal around the area where I have expertise where we could do collectively better." 
Dr. Ranney's work to end firearm injury and death garnered particular attention when she co-authored an open letter to the National Rifle Association (NRA) in 2018. She wrote the letter in response to a tweet by the organization, admonishing physicians to "stay in their lane" when it comes to gun control.  
Dr. Ranney's letter discussed gun violence as a public health crisis and urged the NRA to "be part of the solution" by joining the collective effort to reduce firearm injury and death through research, education, and advocacy. "We are not anti-gun," she stated. "We are anti-bullet hole," adding that "almost half of doctors own guns." 
The NRA disagreed. When Dr. Ranney testified before Congress during a hearing on gun violence in 2023, NRA spokesperson Billy McLaughlin condemned her testimony as an effort to "dismantle the Second Amendment," calling Dr. Ranney "a known gun control extremist." 
"If you actually read what I write, or if you actually listen to what I say, I'm not saying things on behalf of one political party or another," said Dr. Ranney. "It's not about being political. It's about recognizing our role in describing what's happening and making it clear for the world to see. Showing where, based off of data, there may be a better path to improve health and wellbeing." 
In spite of the backlash, Dr. Ranney has no regrets about being an activist. "In the current media landscape, folks love to slap labels on people that may or may not be accurate. To me, what matters isn't where I land with a particular politician or political party, but how the work that I do improves health for populations." 

When the Need to Act Outweighs the Fear 

Laura Andreson, DO, an ob.gyn, took activism a step further when she joined a group of women in Tennessee to file a suit against the state, the attorney general, and the state board of medical examiners. The issue was the Tennessee's abortion ban, which the suit claimed prevented women from getting "necessary and potentially life-saving medical care."  
Dr. Andreson, who says she was "not at all" politically active in the past, began to realize how the abortion ban could drastically affect her profession and her patients. "I don't know what flipped in me, but I just felt like I could do this," she said. 
Like Dr. Ranney, Dr. Andreson has been as visible as she has been vocal, giving press conferences and interviews, but she acknowledges she has some fears about safety. In fact, after filing the lawsuit, the Center for Reproductive Rights recommended that she go to a website, DeleteMe, that removes personal data from the internet, making it more difficult for people to find her information. "But my need to do this and my desire to do this is stronger than my fears," she added. 
Dr. Andreson, who is part of a small practice, did check with both her coworkers and the hospital administration before moving forward with the lawsuit. She was relieved to find that she had the support of her practice and that there wasn't anything in the hospital bylaws to prevent her from filing the lawsuit. "But the people in the bigger institutions who probably have an even better expert base than I do, they are handcuffed," she said. 
It has been, in Dr. Andreson's words, "a little uncomfortable" being on the board of the Tennessee Medical Association when the Tennessee Board of Medical Examiners is part of the lawsuit. "We're all members of the same group," she said. "But I'm not suing them as individuals; I'm suing them as an entity that is under our government." 
Dr. Andreson said most people have been supportive of her activist work, though she admitted to feeling frustrated when she encounters apathy from fellow ob.gyns. She got little response when she circulated information explaining the abortion laws and trying to get others involved. But she still sees education as being a key part of making change happen.  
"I think advocacy, as someone who is considered a responsible, trustworthy person by your community, is important, because you can sway some people just by educating them," she said. 

Fighting Inequities in Medicine and Beyond 

Christina Chen, MD, says she felt very supported by her medical community at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, when she and 16 other Asian American physicians posted a video on Instagram in 2020 highlighting increased violence and harassment of Asian Americans during COVID-19. It soon went viral, and the Mayo Clinic distributed it across their social media channels. The only negative repercussions Mayo faced were a few posts on social media saying that politics should not be brought into the healthcare space. Dr. Chen disagrees. 
"Social issues and political decisions have direct impact on the health of our communities," Dr. Chen said. "We know that we still have a long way to go to solve health inequities, which is a public health problem, and we all play a huge role in voicing our concerns." 
Activism, however, seems to be more complicated when it involves physicians being critical of inequities within the medical field. Nephrologist, Vanessa Grubbs, MD, MPH, founded the nonprofit Black Doc Village in 2022 to raise awareness about the wrongful dismissal of Black residents and expand the Black physician workforce. 
Dr. Grubbs said that the medical community has not been supportive of her activism. "The reason why I'm no longer in academia is in part because they got very upset with me tweeting about how some trainees are biased in their treatment of attendings," she said. "Senior White men attendings are often treated very differently than junior women of color faculty." 
Dr. Grubbs also expressed her views in 2020 essay in the New England Journal of Medicine where she criticized academic medical institutions for ignoring systemic racism, paying lip service to diversity, equity, and inclusion, and staying "deafeningly silent" when issues of racism are raised. 
Today, Black Doc Village is focused on conducting research that can be used to change policy. And Dr. Grubbs now has the full support of her colleagues at West Oakland Health, in Oakland, California, which aspires to advance the Bay Area Black community's health and dignity. "So, no one here has a problem with me speaking out," she added. 
The emphasis on data-driven activism as opposed to "playing politics," is a recurring theme for many physicians who publicly engage with social issues. 
"It's not partisan," Dr. Ranney said. "Rather, it's a commitment to translating science into actionable steps that can be used regardless of what political party you are in. My job is not to be on one side or the other, but to advance human health." These doctors challenge their critics to explain how such a goal is outside their purview. 
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

It should come as no surprise that when physicians speak out on social and political issues, there is sometimes a backlash. This can range from the typical trolling that occurs online to rarer cases of professional penalties. Two doctors were fired by NYU Langone Health late last year after they posted social media messages about the Israel-Hamas war. Still, many physicians are not only willing to stand up for what they believe in, but they see it as an essential part of their profession. 
"We're now at a place where doctors need to engage in public advocacy as an urgent part of our job," wrote Rob Davidson, MD, an emergency department physician, at the onslaught of the COVID-19 pandemic. In an Op-Ed piece for The Guardian, Dr. Davidson noted how the virus forced many physicians into becoming "activist doctors," calling for adequate personal protective equipment and correcting misinformation. "What we want above all is for the administration to listen to doctors, nurses, and frontline health workers - and stop playing politics," he wrote. 

'It's Not About Being Political' 

The intersection of medicine and politics is hardly new. Doctors frequently testify before Congress, sharing their expertise on issues concerning public health. This, however, isn't the same as "playing politics." 
"I'm not taking political stances," said Megan Ranney, MD, Dean of the Yale School of Public Health. "Rather, I'm using science to inform best practices, and I'm vocal around the area where I have expertise where we could do collectively better." 
Dr. Ranney's work to end firearm injury and death garnered particular attention when she co-authored an open letter to the National Rifle Association (NRA) in 2018. She wrote the letter in response to a tweet by the organization, admonishing physicians to "stay in their lane" when it comes to gun control.  
Dr. Ranney's letter discussed gun violence as a public health crisis and urged the NRA to "be part of the solution" by joining the collective effort to reduce firearm injury and death through research, education, and advocacy. "We are not anti-gun," she stated. "We are anti-bullet hole," adding that "almost half of doctors own guns." 
The NRA disagreed. When Dr. Ranney testified before Congress during a hearing on gun violence in 2023, NRA spokesperson Billy McLaughlin condemned her testimony as an effort to "dismantle the Second Amendment," calling Dr. Ranney "a known gun control extremist." 
"If you actually read what I write, or if you actually listen to what I say, I'm not saying things on behalf of one political party or another," said Dr. Ranney. "It's not about being political. It's about recognizing our role in describing what's happening and making it clear for the world to see. Showing where, based off of data, there may be a better path to improve health and wellbeing." 
In spite of the backlash, Dr. Ranney has no regrets about being an activist. "In the current media landscape, folks love to slap labels on people that may or may not be accurate. To me, what matters isn't where I land with a particular politician or political party, but how the work that I do improves health for populations." 

When the Need to Act Outweighs the Fear 

Laura Andreson, DO, an ob.gyn, took activism a step further when she joined a group of women in Tennessee to file a suit against the state, the attorney general, and the state board of medical examiners. The issue was the Tennessee's abortion ban, which the suit claimed prevented women from getting "necessary and potentially life-saving medical care."  
Dr. Andreson, who says she was "not at all" politically active in the past, began to realize how the abortion ban could drastically affect her profession and her patients. "I don't know what flipped in me, but I just felt like I could do this," she said. 
Like Dr. Ranney, Dr. Andreson has been as visible as she has been vocal, giving press conferences and interviews, but she acknowledges she has some fears about safety. In fact, after filing the lawsuit, the Center for Reproductive Rights recommended that she go to a website, DeleteMe, that removes personal data from the internet, making it more difficult for people to find her information. "But my need to do this and my desire to do this is stronger than my fears," she added. 
Dr. Andreson, who is part of a small practice, did check with both her coworkers and the hospital administration before moving forward with the lawsuit. She was relieved to find that she had the support of her practice and that there wasn't anything in the hospital bylaws to prevent her from filing the lawsuit. "But the people in the bigger institutions who probably have an even better expert base than I do, they are handcuffed," she said. 
It has been, in Dr. Andreson's words, "a little uncomfortable" being on the board of the Tennessee Medical Association when the Tennessee Board of Medical Examiners is part of the lawsuit. "We're all members of the same group," she said. "But I'm not suing them as individuals; I'm suing them as an entity that is under our government." 
Dr. Andreson said most people have been supportive of her activist work, though she admitted to feeling frustrated when she encounters apathy from fellow ob.gyns. She got little response when she circulated information explaining the abortion laws and trying to get others involved. But she still sees education as being a key part of making change happen.  
"I think advocacy, as someone who is considered a responsible, trustworthy person by your community, is important, because you can sway some people just by educating them," she said. 

Fighting Inequities in Medicine and Beyond 

Christina Chen, MD, says she felt very supported by her medical community at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, when she and 16 other Asian American physicians posted a video on Instagram in 2020 highlighting increased violence and harassment of Asian Americans during COVID-19. It soon went viral, and the Mayo Clinic distributed it across their social media channels. The only negative repercussions Mayo faced were a few posts on social media saying that politics should not be brought into the healthcare space. Dr. Chen disagrees. 
"Social issues and political decisions have direct impact on the health of our communities," Dr. Chen said. "We know that we still have a long way to go to solve health inequities, which is a public health problem, and we all play a huge role in voicing our concerns." 
Activism, however, seems to be more complicated when it involves physicians being critical of inequities within the medical field. Nephrologist, Vanessa Grubbs, MD, MPH, founded the nonprofit Black Doc Village in 2022 to raise awareness about the wrongful dismissal of Black residents and expand the Black physician workforce. 
Dr. Grubbs said that the medical community has not been supportive of her activism. "The reason why I'm no longer in academia is in part because they got very upset with me tweeting about how some trainees are biased in their treatment of attendings," she said. "Senior White men attendings are often treated very differently than junior women of color faculty." 
Dr. Grubbs also expressed her views in 2020 essay in the New England Journal of Medicine where she criticized academic medical institutions for ignoring systemic racism, paying lip service to diversity, equity, and inclusion, and staying "deafeningly silent" when issues of racism are raised. 
Today, Black Doc Village is focused on conducting research that can be used to change policy. And Dr. Grubbs now has the full support of her colleagues at West Oakland Health, in Oakland, California, which aspires to advance the Bay Area Black community's health and dignity. "So, no one here has a problem with me speaking out," she added. 
The emphasis on data-driven activism as opposed to "playing politics," is a recurring theme for many physicians who publicly engage with social issues. 
"It's not partisan," Dr. Ranney said. "Rather, it's a commitment to translating science into actionable steps that can be used regardless of what political party you are in. My job is not to be on one side or the other, but to advance human health." These doctors challenge their critics to explain how such a goal is outside their purview. 
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Ten years ago, Clare Gerada, FRCGP, an advocate for physician well-being and today president of the UK’s Royal College of General Practitioners, made a prediction to the audience at the International Conference on Physician Health.

“We have seen a massive increase in eating disorders [among doctors],” she said. “I’m not sure anybody is quite aware of the tsunami of eating disorders,” she believed would soon strike predominantly female physicians.

That was 2014. Did the tsunami hit?

Quite possibly. Data are limited on the prevalence of eating disorders (EDs) among healthcare workers, but studies do exist. A 2019 global review and meta-analysis determined “the summary prevalence of eating disorder (ED) risk among medical students was 10.4%.”

A 2022 update of that review boosted the estimate to 17.35%.

Tsunami or not, that’s nearly double the 9% rate within the US general public (from a 2020 report from STRIPED and the Academy of Eating Disorders). And while the following stat isn’t an indicator of EDs per se, 19% of doctors admit to unhealthy eating habits, according to a recent Medscape Medical News physician survey.

To her credit, Dr. Gerada, awarded a damehood in 2020, was in a position to know what was coming. Her statement was informed by research showing an increasing number of young doctors seeking treatment for mental health issues, including EDs, through the NHS Practitioner Health program, a mental health service she established in 2008.

So ... what puts doctors at such a high risk for EDs?

Be Careful of ‘Overlap Traits’

As with many mental health issues, EDs have no single cause. Researchers believe they stem from a complex interaction of genetic, biological, behavioral, psychological, and social factors. But the medical field should take note: Some personality traits commonly associated with EDs are often shared by successful physicians.

“I think some of the overlap traits would be being highly driven, goal-oriented and self-critical,” said Lesley Williams, MD, a family medicine physician at the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix, Arizona. “A lot of those traits can make you a very successful physician and physician-in-training but could also potentially spill over into body image and rigidity around food.”

Of course, we want physicians to strive for excellence, and the majority of diligent, driven doctors will not develop an ED.

But when pushed too far, those admirable qualities can easily become perfectionism — which has long been recognized as a risk factor for EDs, an association supported by decades of research.

Medical School: Where EDs Begin and Little Education About Them Happens

“I think medicine in general attracts people that often share similar characteristics to those who struggle with EDs — high-achieving, hardworking perfectionists who put a lot of pressure on themselves,” said Elizabeth McNaught, MD, a general practitioner and medical director at Family Mental Wealth.

Diagnosed with an ED at 14, Dr. McNaught has experienced this firsthand and shared her story in a 2020 memoir, Life Hurts: A Doctor’s Personal Journey Through Anorexia.

Competitive, high-stress environments can also be a trigger, Dr. McNaught explained. “The pressure of medical school,” for example, “can perpetuate an eating disorder if that’s something that you’re struggling with,” she said.

Pressure to perform may not be the only problem. Medical students are taught to view weight as a key indicator of health. Multiple studies suggested that not only does weight stigma exist in healthcare but also it has increased over time and negatively affects patients’ psychological well-being and physical health.

There is far less public discourse about how weight stigma can be harmful to medical students and physicians themselves. Dr. Williams believed the weight-centric paradigm was key.

“For so long, we believed that health presents itself within these confines on a BMI chart and anything outside of that is unhealthy and must be fixed,” she said. “I can say from having gone through medical education, having that continual messaging does make someone feel that if I myself am not within those confines, then I need to do something to fix that immediately if I’m going to continue to care for patients.”

In general, Dr. Williams, and Dr. McNaught agreed that medical training around EDs is lacking, producing doctors who are ill-equipped to diagnose, treat, or even discuss them with patients. Dr. Williams recalled only one lecture on the topic in med school.

“And yet, anorexia carries the second highest death rate of all mental illnesses after opioid-use disorders,” she said, “so it’s astonishing that that just wasn’t included.”

MDs Hiding Mental Health Issues

Claire Anderson, MD (a pseudonym), emphatically stated she would never tell anyone at the hospital where she works in the emergency department that she has an ED.

“There is still a lot of misunderstanding about mental health, and I never want people to doubt my ability to care for people,” Dr. Anderson said. “There’s so much stigma around eating disorders, and I also feel like once it’s out there, I can’t take it back, and I don’t want to feel like people are watching me.”

Melissa Klein, PhD, a clinical psychologist specializing in EDs, has more than 25 years of experience working the inpatient ED unit at New York Presbyterian. Having treated medical professionals, Dr. Klein said they have legitimate concerns about revealing their struggles.

“Sometimes, they do get reported to higher ups — the boards,” Dr. Klein said, “and they’re told that they have to get help in order for them to continue to work in their profession. I think people might be scared to ask for help because of that reason.”

Doctors Often Ignore EDs or Teach ‘Bad Habits’

Dr. Anderson firmly believed that if her early treatment from doctors had been better, she might not be struggling so much today.

The first time Dr. Anderson’s mother brought up her daughter’s sudden weight loss at 14, their family doctor conferred with a chart and said there was no reason to worry; Dr. Anderson’s weight was “normal.” “I was eating like 500 calories a day and swimming for 3 hours, and [by saying that], they assured me I was fine,” she recalls.

At 15, when Dr. Anderson went in for an initial assessment for an ED, she thought she’d be connected with a nutritionist and sent home. “I didn’t have a lot of classic thoughts of wanting to be thin or wanting to lose weight,” she said.

Instead, Dr. Anderson was sent to inpatient care, which she credits with escalating her ED. “I picked up on a lot of really bad habits when I went there — I sort of learned how to have an eating disorder,” she said. “When I left, it was very different than when I went in, which is kind of sad.”

Throughout high school, Dr. Anderson went in and out of so many hospitals and treatment programs that she’s lost track of them. Then, in 2008, she left formal treatment altogether. “I had been really angry with the treatment programs for trying to fit me into their box with a rigid schedule of inpatient and outpatient care,” she recalled. “I didn’t want to live in that world anymore.”

After working with a new psychiatrist, Dr. Anderson’s situation improved until a particularly stressful second year of residency. “That’s when I just tanked,” she said. “Residency, and especially being on my own and with COVID, things have not been great for me.”

Dr. Anderson now sees an eating disorder specialist, but she pays for this out-of-pocket. “I have terrible insurance,” she said with a laugh, aware of that irony.

If You Are Struggling, Don’t Be Ashamed

Some physicians who’ve experienced EDs firsthand are working to improve training on diagnosing and treating the conditions. Dr. McNaught has developed and launched a new eLearning program for healthcare workers on how to recognize the early signs and symptoms of an ED and provide support.

“It’s not only so they can recognize it in their patients but also if colleagues and family and friends are struggling,” she said.

In 2021, the American Psychiatric Association (APA) approved the APA Practice Guideline for the Treatment of Patients With Eating Disorders, which aims to improve patient care and treatment outcomes.

But Dr. Klein is concerned that increased stress since the COVID-19 pandemic may be putting healthcare workers at even greater risk.

“When people are under stress or when they feel like there are things in their life that maybe they can’t control, sometimes turning to an eating disorder is a way to cope,” she said, “In that sense, the stress on medical professionals is something that could lead to eating disorder behaviors.”

Dr. Klein’s message to healthcare workers: Don’t be ashamed. She described an ED as “a monster that takes over your brain. Once it starts, it’s very hard to turn it around on your own. So, I hope anyone who is suffering, in whatever field they’re in, that they are able to ask for help.”

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

Ten years ago, Clare Gerada, FRCGP, an advocate for physician well-being and today president of the UK’s Royal College of General Practitioners, made a prediction to the audience at the International Conference on Physician Health.

“We have seen a massive increase in eating disorders [among doctors],” she said. “I’m not sure anybody is quite aware of the tsunami of eating disorders,” she believed would soon strike predominantly female physicians.

That was 2014. Did the tsunami hit?

Quite possibly. Data are limited on the prevalence of eating disorders (EDs) among healthcare workers, but studies do exist. A 2019 global review and meta-analysis determined “the summary prevalence of eating disorder (ED) risk among medical students was 10.4%.”

A 2022 update of that review boosted the estimate to 17.35%.

Tsunami or not, that’s nearly double the 9% rate within the US general public (from a 2020 report from STRIPED and the Academy of Eating Disorders). And while the following stat isn’t an indicator of EDs per se, 19% of doctors admit to unhealthy eating habits, according to a recent Medscape Medical News physician survey.

To her credit, Dr. Gerada, awarded a damehood in 2020, was in a position to know what was coming. Her statement was informed by research showing an increasing number of young doctors seeking treatment for mental health issues, including EDs, through the NHS Practitioner Health program, a mental health service she established in 2008.

So ... what puts doctors at such a high risk for EDs?

Be Careful of ‘Overlap Traits’

As with many mental health issues, EDs have no single cause. Researchers believe they stem from a complex interaction of genetic, biological, behavioral, psychological, and social factors. But the medical field should take note: Some personality traits commonly associated with EDs are often shared by successful physicians.

“I think some of the overlap traits would be being highly driven, goal-oriented and self-critical,” said Lesley Williams, MD, a family medicine physician at the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix, Arizona. “A lot of those traits can make you a very successful physician and physician-in-training but could also potentially spill over into body image and rigidity around food.”

Of course, we want physicians to strive for excellence, and the majority of diligent, driven doctors will not develop an ED.

But when pushed too far, those admirable qualities can easily become perfectionism — which has long been recognized as a risk factor for EDs, an association supported by decades of research.

Medical School: Where EDs Begin and Little Education About Them Happens

“I think medicine in general attracts people that often share similar characteristics to those who struggle with EDs — high-achieving, hardworking perfectionists who put a lot of pressure on themselves,” said Elizabeth McNaught, MD, a general practitioner and medical director at Family Mental Wealth.

Diagnosed with an ED at 14, Dr. McNaught has experienced this firsthand and shared her story in a 2020 memoir, Life Hurts: A Doctor’s Personal Journey Through Anorexia.

Competitive, high-stress environments can also be a trigger, Dr. McNaught explained. “The pressure of medical school,” for example, “can perpetuate an eating disorder if that’s something that you’re struggling with,” she said.

Pressure to perform may not be the only problem. Medical students are taught to view weight as a key indicator of health. Multiple studies suggested that not only does weight stigma exist in healthcare but also it has increased over time and negatively affects patients’ psychological well-being and physical health.

There is far less public discourse about how weight stigma can be harmful to medical students and physicians themselves. Dr. Williams believed the weight-centric paradigm was key.

“For so long, we believed that health presents itself within these confines on a BMI chart and anything outside of that is unhealthy and must be fixed,” she said. “I can say from having gone through medical education, having that continual messaging does make someone feel that if I myself am not within those confines, then I need to do something to fix that immediately if I’m going to continue to care for patients.”

In general, Dr. Williams, and Dr. McNaught agreed that medical training around EDs is lacking, producing doctors who are ill-equipped to diagnose, treat, or even discuss them with patients. Dr. Williams recalled only one lecture on the topic in med school.

“And yet, anorexia carries the second highest death rate of all mental illnesses after opioid-use disorders,” she said, “so it’s astonishing that that just wasn’t included.”

MDs Hiding Mental Health Issues

Claire Anderson, MD (a pseudonym), emphatically stated she would never tell anyone at the hospital where she works in the emergency department that she has an ED.

“There is still a lot of misunderstanding about mental health, and I never want people to doubt my ability to care for people,” Dr. Anderson said. “There’s so much stigma around eating disorders, and I also feel like once it’s out there, I can’t take it back, and I don’t want to feel like people are watching me.”

Melissa Klein, PhD, a clinical psychologist specializing in EDs, has more than 25 years of experience working the inpatient ED unit at New York Presbyterian. Having treated medical professionals, Dr. Klein said they have legitimate concerns about revealing their struggles.

“Sometimes, they do get reported to higher ups — the boards,” Dr. Klein said, “and they’re told that they have to get help in order for them to continue to work in their profession. I think people might be scared to ask for help because of that reason.”

Doctors Often Ignore EDs or Teach ‘Bad Habits’

Dr. Anderson firmly believed that if her early treatment from doctors had been better, she might not be struggling so much today.

The first time Dr. Anderson’s mother brought up her daughter’s sudden weight loss at 14, their family doctor conferred with a chart and said there was no reason to worry; Dr. Anderson’s weight was “normal.” “I was eating like 500 calories a day and swimming for 3 hours, and [by saying that], they assured me I was fine,” she recalls.

At 15, when Dr. Anderson went in for an initial assessment for an ED, she thought she’d be connected with a nutritionist and sent home. “I didn’t have a lot of classic thoughts of wanting to be thin or wanting to lose weight,” she said.

Instead, Dr. Anderson was sent to inpatient care, which she credits with escalating her ED. “I picked up on a lot of really bad habits when I went there — I sort of learned how to have an eating disorder,” she said. “When I left, it was very different than when I went in, which is kind of sad.”

Throughout high school, Dr. Anderson went in and out of so many hospitals and treatment programs that she’s lost track of them. Then, in 2008, she left formal treatment altogether. “I had been really angry with the treatment programs for trying to fit me into their box with a rigid schedule of inpatient and outpatient care,” she recalled. “I didn’t want to live in that world anymore.”

After working with a new psychiatrist, Dr. Anderson’s situation improved until a particularly stressful second year of residency. “That’s when I just tanked,” she said. “Residency, and especially being on my own and with COVID, things have not been great for me.”

Dr. Anderson now sees an eating disorder specialist, but she pays for this out-of-pocket. “I have terrible insurance,” she said with a laugh, aware of that irony.

If You Are Struggling, Don’t Be Ashamed

Some physicians who’ve experienced EDs firsthand are working to improve training on diagnosing and treating the conditions. Dr. McNaught has developed and launched a new eLearning program for healthcare workers on how to recognize the early signs and symptoms of an ED and provide support.

“It’s not only so they can recognize it in their patients but also if colleagues and family and friends are struggling,” she said.

In 2021, the American Psychiatric Association (APA) approved the APA Practice Guideline for the Treatment of Patients With Eating Disorders, which aims to improve patient care and treatment outcomes.

But Dr. Klein is concerned that increased stress since the COVID-19 pandemic may be putting healthcare workers at even greater risk.

“When people are under stress or when they feel like there are things in their life that maybe they can’t control, sometimes turning to an eating disorder is a way to cope,” she said, “In that sense, the stress on medical professionals is something that could lead to eating disorder behaviors.”

Dr. Klein’s message to healthcare workers: Don’t be ashamed. She described an ED as “a monster that takes over your brain. Once it starts, it’s very hard to turn it around on your own. So, I hope anyone who is suffering, in whatever field they’re in, that they are able to ask for help.”

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

Ten years ago, Clare Gerada, FRCGP, an advocate for physician well-being and today president of the UK’s Royal College of General Practitioners, made a prediction to the audience at the International Conference on Physician Health.

“We have seen a massive increase in eating disorders [among doctors],” she said. “I’m not sure anybody is quite aware of the tsunami of eating disorders,” she believed would soon strike predominantly female physicians.

That was 2014. Did the tsunami hit?

Quite possibly. Data are limited on the prevalence of eating disorders (EDs) among healthcare workers, but studies do exist. A 2019 global review and meta-analysis determined “the summary prevalence of eating disorder (ED) risk among medical students was 10.4%.”

A 2022 update of that review boosted the estimate to 17.35%.

Tsunami or not, that’s nearly double the 9% rate within the US general public (from a 2020 report from STRIPED and the Academy of Eating Disorders). And while the following stat isn’t an indicator of EDs per se, 19% of doctors admit to unhealthy eating habits, according to a recent Medscape Medical News physician survey.

To her credit, Dr. Gerada, awarded a damehood in 2020, was in a position to know what was coming. Her statement was informed by research showing an increasing number of young doctors seeking treatment for mental health issues, including EDs, through the NHS Practitioner Health program, a mental health service she established in 2008.

So ... what puts doctors at such a high risk for EDs?

Be Careful of ‘Overlap Traits’

As with many mental health issues, EDs have no single cause. Researchers believe they stem from a complex interaction of genetic, biological, behavioral, psychological, and social factors. But the medical field should take note: Some personality traits commonly associated with EDs are often shared by successful physicians.

“I think some of the overlap traits would be being highly driven, goal-oriented and self-critical,” said Lesley Williams, MD, a family medicine physician at the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix, Arizona. “A lot of those traits can make you a very successful physician and physician-in-training but could also potentially spill over into body image and rigidity around food.”

Of course, we want physicians to strive for excellence, and the majority of diligent, driven doctors will not develop an ED.

But when pushed too far, those admirable qualities can easily become perfectionism — which has long been recognized as a risk factor for EDs, an association supported by decades of research.

Medical School: Where EDs Begin and Little Education About Them Happens

“I think medicine in general attracts people that often share similar characteristics to those who struggle with EDs — high-achieving, hardworking perfectionists who put a lot of pressure on themselves,” said Elizabeth McNaught, MD, a general practitioner and medical director at Family Mental Wealth.

Diagnosed with an ED at 14, Dr. McNaught has experienced this firsthand and shared her story in a 2020 memoir, Life Hurts: A Doctor’s Personal Journey Through Anorexia.

Competitive, high-stress environments can also be a trigger, Dr. McNaught explained. “The pressure of medical school,” for example, “can perpetuate an eating disorder if that’s something that you’re struggling with,” she said.

Pressure to perform may not be the only problem. Medical students are taught to view weight as a key indicator of health. Multiple studies suggested that not only does weight stigma exist in healthcare but also it has increased over time and negatively affects patients’ psychological well-being and physical health.

There is far less public discourse about how weight stigma can be harmful to medical students and physicians themselves. Dr. Williams believed the weight-centric paradigm was key.

“For so long, we believed that health presents itself within these confines on a BMI chart and anything outside of that is unhealthy and must be fixed,” she said. “I can say from having gone through medical education, having that continual messaging does make someone feel that if I myself am not within those confines, then I need to do something to fix that immediately if I’m going to continue to care for patients.”

In general, Dr. Williams, and Dr. McNaught agreed that medical training around EDs is lacking, producing doctors who are ill-equipped to diagnose, treat, or even discuss them with patients. Dr. Williams recalled only one lecture on the topic in med school.

“And yet, anorexia carries the second highest death rate of all mental illnesses after opioid-use disorders,” she said, “so it’s astonishing that that just wasn’t included.”

MDs Hiding Mental Health Issues

Claire Anderson, MD (a pseudonym), emphatically stated she would never tell anyone at the hospital where she works in the emergency department that she has an ED.

“There is still a lot of misunderstanding about mental health, and I never want people to doubt my ability to care for people,” Dr. Anderson said. “There’s so much stigma around eating disorders, and I also feel like once it’s out there, I can’t take it back, and I don’t want to feel like people are watching me.”

Melissa Klein, PhD, a clinical psychologist specializing in EDs, has more than 25 years of experience working the inpatient ED unit at New York Presbyterian. Having treated medical professionals, Dr. Klein said they have legitimate concerns about revealing their struggles.

“Sometimes, they do get reported to higher ups — the boards,” Dr. Klein said, “and they’re told that they have to get help in order for them to continue to work in their profession. I think people might be scared to ask for help because of that reason.”

Doctors Often Ignore EDs or Teach ‘Bad Habits’

Dr. Anderson firmly believed that if her early treatment from doctors had been better, she might not be struggling so much today.

The first time Dr. Anderson’s mother brought up her daughter’s sudden weight loss at 14, their family doctor conferred with a chart and said there was no reason to worry; Dr. Anderson’s weight was “normal.” “I was eating like 500 calories a day and swimming for 3 hours, and [by saying that], they assured me I was fine,” she recalls.

At 15, when Dr. Anderson went in for an initial assessment for an ED, she thought she’d be connected with a nutritionist and sent home. “I didn’t have a lot of classic thoughts of wanting to be thin or wanting to lose weight,” she said.

Instead, Dr. Anderson was sent to inpatient care, which she credits with escalating her ED. “I picked up on a lot of really bad habits when I went there — I sort of learned how to have an eating disorder,” she said. “When I left, it was very different than when I went in, which is kind of sad.”

Throughout high school, Dr. Anderson went in and out of so many hospitals and treatment programs that she’s lost track of them. Then, in 2008, she left formal treatment altogether. “I had been really angry with the treatment programs for trying to fit me into their box with a rigid schedule of inpatient and outpatient care,” she recalled. “I didn’t want to live in that world anymore.”

After working with a new psychiatrist, Dr. Anderson’s situation improved until a particularly stressful second year of residency. “That’s when I just tanked,” she said. “Residency, and especially being on my own and with COVID, things have not been great for me.”

Dr. Anderson now sees an eating disorder specialist, but she pays for this out-of-pocket. “I have terrible insurance,” she said with a laugh, aware of that irony.

If You Are Struggling, Don’t Be Ashamed

Some physicians who’ve experienced EDs firsthand are working to improve training on diagnosing and treating the conditions. Dr. McNaught has developed and launched a new eLearning program for healthcare workers on how to recognize the early signs and symptoms of an ED and provide support.

“It’s not only so they can recognize it in their patients but also if colleagues and family and friends are struggling,” she said.

In 2021, the American Psychiatric Association (APA) approved the APA Practice Guideline for the Treatment of Patients With Eating Disorders, which aims to improve patient care and treatment outcomes.

But Dr. Klein is concerned that increased stress since the COVID-19 pandemic may be putting healthcare workers at even greater risk.

“When people are under stress or when they feel like there are things in their life that maybe they can’t control, sometimes turning to an eating disorder is a way to cope,” she said, “In that sense, the stress on medical professionals is something that could lead to eating disorder behaviors.”

Dr. Klein’s message to healthcare workers: Don’t be ashamed. She described an ED as “a monster that takes over your brain. Once it starts, it’s very hard to turn it around on your own. So, I hope anyone who is suffering, in whatever field they’re in, that they are able to ask for help.”

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

Adam Boggon, MBChB, was working at the Royal Free Hospital in North London during the city’s second wave of COVID-19. “I was effectively living in the hospital,” he recalled. “It felt like I was going 10,000 miles per hour, trying to corral hundreds of medical students and doctors.”

During a national lockdown, there were few places Dr. Boggon could escape to, but the Hampstead Heath swimming ponds mostly remained open. He swam there regularly to exercise and recharge even in winter.

“Swimming in cold water takes you out of yourself,” Dr. Boggon said. “It was such a release for someone who grew up in a rural place and had access to green space, even though the water is murky.” It also hovers around 50 °F (10 °C).

Jumping into cold water, well, kind of stinks. So why do it? It’s not only for bragging rights. A growing number of studies suggest significant mental and physical health benefits to swimming in cold water, specifically to improve depression symptoms and even ease inflammatory conditions.

And a lot of that research is driven by medical pros who love to do it themselves.

For Dr. Boggon, swimming in frigid water is uncomfortable, but he feels that a sensation of calmness follows that makes the plunge more than worth it. Now a Fulbright Scholar at Harvard, where he studies public health and health management, Dr. Boggon is able to frequent the fabled Walden Pond just outside of Boston.

As Thoreau himself said, “You can never have enough of nature.”

Yes, even if it’s really, really cold.
 

Taking a deeper dive

Heather Massey, PhD, a senior lecturer in Sport, Health, and Exercise Science at University of Portsmouth, blames her father, a dinghy sailor, for her affinity for cold-water swimming.

And she’s done more than most, including an epic 16-hour crossing of the English Channel. The water temperature was in the upper-50s °F, and she swam without a wetsuit. “Time just seemed to collapse,” she has shared about the experience.

While working on her PhD and studying the effects of environmental physiology, in particular what happens to the body when it gets hot or cold, Dr. Massey’s hobby and studies seemed to coalesce.

Her research initially focused on the hazards around being in cold open water. But she also noticed a growing trend of people claiming health benefits from the practice. “People started to talk about experiencing improved symptoms of depression or improved mental health from their activities in the water,” she said.

She partnered with another outdoor swimming enthusiast, Hannah Denton, a counseling psychologist working for the National Health Service in the United Kingdom. Ms. Denton was publishing papers on the potential impact that outdoor swimming may have on people with depression and how it could improve mental health in general. She also regularly engages in cold-water swims to boost feelings of mindfulness and peace.

“Having the experience of being so close to nature, as well as the strong sensory experience of being in cold water, does really encourage you to be in the moment,” Ms. Denton wrote in an article for the Sussex Mindfulness Centre. “My experiences of sea swimming and mindfulness support each other. Both have made me feel more comfortable with my body, to have more of a present moment focus, to pay attention to my breathing, and to gain distance from difficult thoughts.”

Over the past few years, Dr. Massey and Ms. Denton have moved from fairly small-scale studies with no real controls to today, completing a randomized controlled trial and looking at the impact that outdoor swimming may have on people living with mild to moderate depression.

“At first, people sort of thought our idea was a bit wacky,” said Dr. Massey. “Now, the popularity of open-water swimming has really blossomed, and so has this area of research. We’re starting to build more rigor into the work.”

Like all the researchers and physicians interviewed for this article, Dr. Massey hesitates to claim that cold-water swimming is a “cure” that should be medicalized.

“It’s not about prescribing it or forcing people to do it,” said Dr. Massey. “This is not something that a doctor should write on a prescription and say you should go and have eight 1-hour sessions of swimming.”
 

(Not yet) a common cure

Enter into the conversation Mark Harper, MD, PhD, consultant anesthetist at Sussex University Hospitals in the United Kingdom and Kristiansand, Norway. Dr. Harper is the author of the 2022 book, Chill: The Cold Water Swim Cure – A Transformative Guide to Renew Your Body and Mind.

Dr. Harper grew up swimming in pools, and it wasn’t until his pool closed for 2 weeks that he ventured into the sea. He recalled walking up the beach afterward, thinking, God, this feels good, and from that moment on, he became hooked on outdoor swimming and curious about its therapeutic potential.

The “cure” in the book’s title, Dr. Harper explained, is being used in the historical sense of “treatment,” as in the first medical book about sea-bathing written over 250 years ago. Dr. Harper acknowledged that the connection to health is still speculative. “However, the circumstantial evidence, the feedback from participants and early study data for its benefits are now very strong,” he said.

In a small study published in 2022, Dr. Harper and colleagues took 59 people with anxiety and depression and put them through a sea-swimming course. Afterward, 80% showed a clinically significant improvement in their mental health.

More recently, Dr. Harper and his team of researchers released a survey to determine how many people were using cold-water swimming as a treatment for a mental or physical ailment. “We thought 30 or 40 people would respond, but we ended up with over 700,” he said. “The majority were using it for mental health but also included inflammation-related conditions.”

Over 2 decades, Dr. Harper has seen dramatic success stories. In his book, he recalled a good friend who, in his early 20s, suffered from Crohn’s disease so badly he couldn’t walk up the steps to his parents’ house. The friend turned to outdoor cold swimming as a low-impact workout and began noticing the symptoms of his disease were improving. Within months, he was able to go off his medications. In 2022, he completed 52 triathlons: one per week for the entire year.
 

How cold exposure may play with your brain

Vaibhav Diwadkar, PhD, professor of psychiatry and behavioral neurosciences at Wayne State University, in Detroit, is studying how human brain networks respond to cold exposure. Dr. Diwadkar and his colleague, Otto Muzik, PhD, began by putting volunteers in a rubber suit with thin tubing and infusing the tubing with temperature-controlled water. Meanwhile, they collected functional brain imaging data to analyze which parts of the brain were responding as body temperature changed.

The data showed that the cold exposure made certain areas of the brain very active, including some that have been associated with the regulation of mood.

Dr. Diwadkar posits that controlled exposure to cold serves as a low-level stressor that knocks different systems within the brain and body out of homeostasis. Once the stress is removed, the brain responds by releasing neurotransmitters that enhance mood, frequently leading to feelings of euphoria in participants.

“We don’t have direct evidence of such a mechanism, but it’s a reasonable speculation,” said Dr. Diwadkar.

However, he pointed out that science writers in the media often portray topics such as this one in black and white, which is “oversimplifying the scientific complexity of biology.”

Clearly, more research needs to be done on the potential therapeutic benefits of cold-water swimming. But for those suffering from anxiety, depression, or chronic illness, if taking a cold dip makes you feel better, the why and how might be beside the point.

Plus, as Dr. Harper pointed out, it’s an easy and accessible therapy.

“All you need is some water – enough to submerge your entire body in – that’s less than 68 °F (20 °C),” he said. “If you stay long enough to get over that initial shock, which is just 2 or 3 minutes, then you’ve got the effect. If you get out and want to go back in again, then you’ve done it right.”
 

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Adam Boggon, MBChB, was working at the Royal Free Hospital in North London during the city’s second wave of COVID-19. “I was effectively living in the hospital,” he recalled. “It felt like I was going 10,000 miles per hour, trying to corral hundreds of medical students and doctors.”

During a national lockdown, there were few places Dr. Boggon could escape to, but the Hampstead Heath swimming ponds mostly remained open. He swam there regularly to exercise and recharge even in winter.

“Swimming in cold water takes you out of yourself,” Dr. Boggon said. “It was such a release for someone who grew up in a rural place and had access to green space, even though the water is murky.” It also hovers around 50 °F (10 °C).

Jumping into cold water, well, kind of stinks. So why do it? It’s not only for bragging rights. A growing number of studies suggest significant mental and physical health benefits to swimming in cold water, specifically to improve depression symptoms and even ease inflammatory conditions.

And a lot of that research is driven by medical pros who love to do it themselves.

For Dr. Boggon, swimming in frigid water is uncomfortable, but he feels that a sensation of calmness follows that makes the plunge more than worth it. Now a Fulbright Scholar at Harvard, where he studies public health and health management, Dr. Boggon is able to frequent the fabled Walden Pond just outside of Boston.

As Thoreau himself said, “You can never have enough of nature.”

Yes, even if it’s really, really cold.
 

Taking a deeper dive

Heather Massey, PhD, a senior lecturer in Sport, Health, and Exercise Science at University of Portsmouth, blames her father, a dinghy sailor, for her affinity for cold-water swimming.

And she’s done more than most, including an epic 16-hour crossing of the English Channel. The water temperature was in the upper-50s °F, and she swam without a wetsuit. “Time just seemed to collapse,” she has shared about the experience.

While working on her PhD and studying the effects of environmental physiology, in particular what happens to the body when it gets hot or cold, Dr. Massey’s hobby and studies seemed to coalesce.

Her research initially focused on the hazards around being in cold open water. But she also noticed a growing trend of people claiming health benefits from the practice. “People started to talk about experiencing improved symptoms of depression or improved mental health from their activities in the water,” she said.

She partnered with another outdoor swimming enthusiast, Hannah Denton, a counseling psychologist working for the National Health Service in the United Kingdom. Ms. Denton was publishing papers on the potential impact that outdoor swimming may have on people with depression and how it could improve mental health in general. She also regularly engages in cold-water swims to boost feelings of mindfulness and peace.

“Having the experience of being so close to nature, as well as the strong sensory experience of being in cold water, does really encourage you to be in the moment,” Ms. Denton wrote in an article for the Sussex Mindfulness Centre. “My experiences of sea swimming and mindfulness support each other. Both have made me feel more comfortable with my body, to have more of a present moment focus, to pay attention to my breathing, and to gain distance from difficult thoughts.”

Over the past few years, Dr. Massey and Ms. Denton have moved from fairly small-scale studies with no real controls to today, completing a randomized controlled trial and looking at the impact that outdoor swimming may have on people living with mild to moderate depression.

“At first, people sort of thought our idea was a bit wacky,” said Dr. Massey. “Now, the popularity of open-water swimming has really blossomed, and so has this area of research. We’re starting to build more rigor into the work.”

Like all the researchers and physicians interviewed for this article, Dr. Massey hesitates to claim that cold-water swimming is a “cure” that should be medicalized.

“It’s not about prescribing it or forcing people to do it,” said Dr. Massey. “This is not something that a doctor should write on a prescription and say you should go and have eight 1-hour sessions of swimming.”
 

(Not yet) a common cure

Enter into the conversation Mark Harper, MD, PhD, consultant anesthetist at Sussex University Hospitals in the United Kingdom and Kristiansand, Norway. Dr. Harper is the author of the 2022 book, Chill: The Cold Water Swim Cure – A Transformative Guide to Renew Your Body and Mind.

Dr. Harper grew up swimming in pools, and it wasn’t until his pool closed for 2 weeks that he ventured into the sea. He recalled walking up the beach afterward, thinking, God, this feels good, and from that moment on, he became hooked on outdoor swimming and curious about its therapeutic potential.

The “cure” in the book’s title, Dr. Harper explained, is being used in the historical sense of “treatment,” as in the first medical book about sea-bathing written over 250 years ago. Dr. Harper acknowledged that the connection to health is still speculative. “However, the circumstantial evidence, the feedback from participants and early study data for its benefits are now very strong,” he said.

In a small study published in 2022, Dr. Harper and colleagues took 59 people with anxiety and depression and put them through a sea-swimming course. Afterward, 80% showed a clinically significant improvement in their mental health.

More recently, Dr. Harper and his team of researchers released a survey to determine how many people were using cold-water swimming as a treatment for a mental or physical ailment. “We thought 30 or 40 people would respond, but we ended up with over 700,” he said. “The majority were using it for mental health but also included inflammation-related conditions.”

Over 2 decades, Dr. Harper has seen dramatic success stories. In his book, he recalled a good friend who, in his early 20s, suffered from Crohn’s disease so badly he couldn’t walk up the steps to his parents’ house. The friend turned to outdoor cold swimming as a low-impact workout and began noticing the symptoms of his disease were improving. Within months, he was able to go off his medications. In 2022, he completed 52 triathlons: one per week for the entire year.
 

How cold exposure may play with your brain

Vaibhav Diwadkar, PhD, professor of psychiatry and behavioral neurosciences at Wayne State University, in Detroit, is studying how human brain networks respond to cold exposure. Dr. Diwadkar and his colleague, Otto Muzik, PhD, began by putting volunteers in a rubber suit with thin tubing and infusing the tubing with temperature-controlled water. Meanwhile, they collected functional brain imaging data to analyze which parts of the brain were responding as body temperature changed.

The data showed that the cold exposure made certain areas of the brain very active, including some that have been associated with the regulation of mood.

Dr. Diwadkar posits that controlled exposure to cold serves as a low-level stressor that knocks different systems within the brain and body out of homeostasis. Once the stress is removed, the brain responds by releasing neurotransmitters that enhance mood, frequently leading to feelings of euphoria in participants.

“We don’t have direct evidence of such a mechanism, but it’s a reasonable speculation,” said Dr. Diwadkar.

However, he pointed out that science writers in the media often portray topics such as this one in black and white, which is “oversimplifying the scientific complexity of biology.”

Clearly, more research needs to be done on the potential therapeutic benefits of cold-water swimming. But for those suffering from anxiety, depression, or chronic illness, if taking a cold dip makes you feel better, the why and how might be beside the point.

Plus, as Dr. Harper pointed out, it’s an easy and accessible therapy.

“All you need is some water – enough to submerge your entire body in – that’s less than 68 °F (20 °C),” he said. “If you stay long enough to get over that initial shock, which is just 2 or 3 minutes, then you’ve got the effect. If you get out and want to go back in again, then you’ve done it right.”
 

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Adam Boggon, MBChB, was working at the Royal Free Hospital in North London during the city’s second wave of COVID-19. “I was effectively living in the hospital,” he recalled. “It felt like I was going 10,000 miles per hour, trying to corral hundreds of medical students and doctors.”

During a national lockdown, there were few places Dr. Boggon could escape to, but the Hampstead Heath swimming ponds mostly remained open. He swam there regularly to exercise and recharge even in winter.

“Swimming in cold water takes you out of yourself,” Dr. Boggon said. “It was such a release for someone who grew up in a rural place and had access to green space, even though the water is murky.” It also hovers around 50 °F (10 °C).

Jumping into cold water, well, kind of stinks. So why do it? It’s not only for bragging rights. A growing number of studies suggest significant mental and physical health benefits to swimming in cold water, specifically to improve depression symptoms and even ease inflammatory conditions.

And a lot of that research is driven by medical pros who love to do it themselves.

For Dr. Boggon, swimming in frigid water is uncomfortable, but he feels that a sensation of calmness follows that makes the plunge more than worth it. Now a Fulbright Scholar at Harvard, where he studies public health and health management, Dr. Boggon is able to frequent the fabled Walden Pond just outside of Boston.

As Thoreau himself said, “You can never have enough of nature.”

Yes, even if it’s really, really cold.
 

Taking a deeper dive

Heather Massey, PhD, a senior lecturer in Sport, Health, and Exercise Science at University of Portsmouth, blames her father, a dinghy sailor, for her affinity for cold-water swimming.

And she’s done more than most, including an epic 16-hour crossing of the English Channel. The water temperature was in the upper-50s °F, and she swam without a wetsuit. “Time just seemed to collapse,” she has shared about the experience.

While working on her PhD and studying the effects of environmental physiology, in particular what happens to the body when it gets hot or cold, Dr. Massey’s hobby and studies seemed to coalesce.

Her research initially focused on the hazards around being in cold open water. But she also noticed a growing trend of people claiming health benefits from the practice. “People started to talk about experiencing improved symptoms of depression or improved mental health from their activities in the water,” she said.

She partnered with another outdoor swimming enthusiast, Hannah Denton, a counseling psychologist working for the National Health Service in the United Kingdom. Ms. Denton was publishing papers on the potential impact that outdoor swimming may have on people with depression and how it could improve mental health in general. She also regularly engages in cold-water swims to boost feelings of mindfulness and peace.

“Having the experience of being so close to nature, as well as the strong sensory experience of being in cold water, does really encourage you to be in the moment,” Ms. Denton wrote in an article for the Sussex Mindfulness Centre. “My experiences of sea swimming and mindfulness support each other. Both have made me feel more comfortable with my body, to have more of a present moment focus, to pay attention to my breathing, and to gain distance from difficult thoughts.”

Over the past few years, Dr. Massey and Ms. Denton have moved from fairly small-scale studies with no real controls to today, completing a randomized controlled trial and looking at the impact that outdoor swimming may have on people living with mild to moderate depression.

“At first, people sort of thought our idea was a bit wacky,” said Dr. Massey. “Now, the popularity of open-water swimming has really blossomed, and so has this area of research. We’re starting to build more rigor into the work.”

Like all the researchers and physicians interviewed for this article, Dr. Massey hesitates to claim that cold-water swimming is a “cure” that should be medicalized.

“It’s not about prescribing it or forcing people to do it,” said Dr. Massey. “This is not something that a doctor should write on a prescription and say you should go and have eight 1-hour sessions of swimming.”
 

(Not yet) a common cure

Enter into the conversation Mark Harper, MD, PhD, consultant anesthetist at Sussex University Hospitals in the United Kingdom and Kristiansand, Norway. Dr. Harper is the author of the 2022 book, Chill: The Cold Water Swim Cure – A Transformative Guide to Renew Your Body and Mind.

Dr. Harper grew up swimming in pools, and it wasn’t until his pool closed for 2 weeks that he ventured into the sea. He recalled walking up the beach afterward, thinking, God, this feels good, and from that moment on, he became hooked on outdoor swimming and curious about its therapeutic potential.

The “cure” in the book’s title, Dr. Harper explained, is being used in the historical sense of “treatment,” as in the first medical book about sea-bathing written over 250 years ago. Dr. Harper acknowledged that the connection to health is still speculative. “However, the circumstantial evidence, the feedback from participants and early study data for its benefits are now very strong,” he said.

In a small study published in 2022, Dr. Harper and colleagues took 59 people with anxiety and depression and put them through a sea-swimming course. Afterward, 80% showed a clinically significant improvement in their mental health.

More recently, Dr. Harper and his team of researchers released a survey to determine how many people were using cold-water swimming as a treatment for a mental or physical ailment. “We thought 30 or 40 people would respond, but we ended up with over 700,” he said. “The majority were using it for mental health but also included inflammation-related conditions.”

Over 2 decades, Dr. Harper has seen dramatic success stories. In his book, he recalled a good friend who, in his early 20s, suffered from Crohn’s disease so badly he couldn’t walk up the steps to his parents’ house. The friend turned to outdoor cold swimming as a low-impact workout and began noticing the symptoms of his disease were improving. Within months, he was able to go off his medications. In 2022, he completed 52 triathlons: one per week for the entire year.
 

How cold exposure may play with your brain

Vaibhav Diwadkar, PhD, professor of psychiatry and behavioral neurosciences at Wayne State University, in Detroit, is studying how human brain networks respond to cold exposure. Dr. Diwadkar and his colleague, Otto Muzik, PhD, began by putting volunteers in a rubber suit with thin tubing and infusing the tubing with temperature-controlled water. Meanwhile, they collected functional brain imaging data to analyze which parts of the brain were responding as body temperature changed.

The data showed that the cold exposure made certain areas of the brain very active, including some that have been associated with the regulation of mood.

Dr. Diwadkar posits that controlled exposure to cold serves as a low-level stressor that knocks different systems within the brain and body out of homeostasis. Once the stress is removed, the brain responds by releasing neurotransmitters that enhance mood, frequently leading to feelings of euphoria in participants.

“We don’t have direct evidence of such a mechanism, but it’s a reasonable speculation,” said Dr. Diwadkar.

However, he pointed out that science writers in the media often portray topics such as this one in black and white, which is “oversimplifying the scientific complexity of biology.”

Clearly, more research needs to be done on the potential therapeutic benefits of cold-water swimming. But for those suffering from anxiety, depression, or chronic illness, if taking a cold dip makes you feel better, the why and how might be beside the point.

Plus, as Dr. Harper pointed out, it’s an easy and accessible therapy.

“All you need is some water – enough to submerge your entire body in – that’s less than 68 °F (20 °C),” he said. “If you stay long enough to get over that initial shock, which is just 2 or 3 minutes, then you’ve got the effect. If you get out and want to go back in again, then you’ve done it right.”
 

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

In 2011, the Mayo Clinic began surveying physicians about burnout and found 45% of physicians experienced at least one symptom, such as emotional exhaustion, finding work no longer meaningful, feelings of ineffectiveness, and depersonalizing patients. Associated manifestations can range from headache and insomnia to impaired memory and decreased attention. 

Marija Jovovic/Getty Images

Fast forward 10 years to the Medscape National Physician Burnout and Suicide Report, which found that a similar number of physicians (42%) feel burned out. The COVID-19 pandemic only added insult to injury. A Medscape survey that included nearly 5,000 U.S. physicians revealed that about two-thirds (64%) of them reported burnout had intensified during the crisis.

These elevated numbers are being labeled as “a public health crisis” for the impact widespread physician burnout could have on the health of the doctor and patient safety. The relatively consistent levels across the decade seem to suggest that, if health organizations are attempting to improve physician well-being, it doesn’t appear to be working, forcing doctors to find solutions for themselves.

Jill Wener, MD, considers herself part of the 45% burned out 10 years ago. She was working as an internist at Rush University Medical Center in Chicago, but the “existential reality of being a doctor in this world” was wearing on her. “Staying up with the literature, knowing that every day you’re going to go into work without knowing what you’re going to find, threats of lawsuits, the pressure of perfectionism,” Dr. Wener told this news organization. “By the time I hit burnout, everything made me feel like the world was crashing down on me.”

When Dr. Wener encountered someone who meditated twice a day, she was intrigued, even though the self-described “most Type-A, inside-the-box, nonspiritual type, anxious, linear-path doctor” didn’t think people like her could meditate. Dr. Wener is not alone in her hesitation to explore meditation as a means to help prevent burnout because the causes of burnout are primarily linked to external rather than internal factors. Issues including a loss of autonomy, the burden and distraction of electronic health records, and the intense pressure to comply with rules from the government are not things mindfulness can fix. 

And because the sources of burnout are primarily environmental and inherent to the current medical system, the suggestion that physicians need to fix themselves with meditation can come as a slap in the face. However, when up against a system slow to change, mindfulness can provide physicians access to the one thing they can control: How they perceive and react to what’s in front of them.

At the recommendation of an acquaintance, Dr. Wener enrolled in a Vedic Meditation (also known as Conscious Health Meditation) course taught by Light Watkins, a well-known traveling instructor, author, and speaker. By the second meeting she was successfully practicing 20 minutes twice a day. This form of mediation traces its roots to the Vedas, ancient Indian texts (also the foundation for yoga), and uses a mantra to settle the mind, transitioning to an awake state of inner contentment. 

Three weeks later, Dr. Wener’s daily crying jags ended as did her propensity for road rage. “I felt like I was on the cusp of something life-changing, I just didn’t understand it,” she recalled. “But I knew I was never going to give it up.”
 

Defining mindfulness

“Mindfulness is being able to be present in the moment that you’re in with acceptance of what it is and without judging it,” said Donna Rockwell, PsyD, a leading mindfulness meditation teacher. The practice of mindfulness is really meditation. Dr. Rockwell explained that the noise of our mind is most often focused on either the past or the future. “We’re either bemoaning something that happened earlier or we’re catastrophizing the future,” she said, which prevents us from being present in the moment. 

Meditation allows you to notice when your mind has drifted from the present moment into the past or future. “You gently notice it, label it with a lot of self-compassion, and then bring your mind back by focusing on your breath – going out, going in – and the incoming stimuli through your five senses,” said Dr. Rockwell. “When you’re doing that, you can’t be in the past or future.”

Dr. Rockwell also pointed out that we constantly categorize incoming data of the moment as either “good for me or bad for me,” which gets in the way of simply being present for what you’re facing. “When you’re more fully present, you become more skillful and able to do what this moment is asking of you,” she said. Being mindful allows us to better navigate incoming stimuli, which could be a “code blue” in the ED or a patient who needs another 2 minutes during an office visit. 

When Dr. Wener was burned out, she felt unable to adapt whenever something unexpected happened. “When you have no emotional reserves, everything feels like a big deal,” she said. “The meditation gave me what we call adaptation energy; it filled up my tank and kept me from feeling like I was going to lose it at 10 o’clock in the morning.”

Dr. Rockwell explained burnout as an overactive fight or flight response activated by the amygdala. It starts pumping cortisol, our pupils dilate, and our pores open. The prefrontal cortex is offline when we’re experiencing this physiological response because they both can’t be operational at the same time. “When we’re constantly in a ‘fight or flight’ response and don’t have any access to our prefrontal cortex, we are coming from a brain that is pumping cortisol and that leads to burnout,” said Dr. Rockwell.

“Any fight or flight response leaves a mark on your body,” Dr. Wener echoed. “When we go into our state of deep rest in the meditation practice, which is two to five times more restful than sleep, it heals those stress scars.”
 

Making time for mindfulness

Prescribing mindfulness for physicians is not new. Molecular biologist Jon Kabat-Zinn, PhD, developed Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) in 1979, a practice that incorporates mindfulness exercises to help people become familiar with their behavior patterns in stressful situations. Thus, instead of reacting, they can respond with a clearer understanding of the circumstance. Dr. Kabat-Zinn initially targeted people with chronic health problems to help them cope with the effects of pain and the condition of their illness, but it has expanded to anyone experiencing challenges in their life, including physicians. A standard MBSR course runs 8 weeks, making it a commitment for most people. 

Mindfulness training requires that physicians use what they already have so little of: time.

Dr. Wener was able to take a sabbatical, embarking on a 3-month trip to India to immerse herself in the study of Vedic Meditation. Upon her return, Dr. Wener took a position at Emory University, Atlanta, and has launched a number of CME-accredited meditation courses and retreats. Unlike Dr. Kabat-Zinn, her programs are by physicians and for physicians. She also created an online version of the meditation course to make it more accessible. 

For these reasons, Kara Pepper, MD, an internist in outpatient primary care in Atlanta, was drawn to the meditation course. Dr. Pepper was 7 years into practice when she burned out. “The program dovetailed into my burnout recovery,” she said. “It allowed me space to separate myself from the thoughts I was having about work and just recognize them as just that – as thoughts.”

In the course, Dr. Wener teaches the REST Technique, which she says is different than mindfulness in that she encourages the mind to run rampant. “Trying to control the mind can feel very uncomfortable because we always have thoughts,” she says. “We can’t tell the mind to stop thinking just like we can’t tell the heart to stop beating.” Dr. Wener said the REST Technique lets “the mind swim downstream,” allowing the brain to go into a deep state of rest and start to heal from the scars caused by stress. 

Dr. Pepper said the self-paced online course gave her all the tools she needed, and it was pragmatic and evidence based. “I didn’t feel ‘woo’ or like another gimmick,” she said. Pepper, who continues to practice medicine, became a life coach in 2019 to teach others the skills she uses daily. 
 

An integrated strategy

Dr. Wener acknowledges that meditation is not the panacea for everyone’s burnout, which data support. In a review published in The American Journal of Medicine in 2019, Scott Yates, MD, MBA, from the Center for Executive Medicine in Plano, Tex., found that physicians who had adopted mediation and mindfulness training to decrease anxiety and perceived work stress only experienced modest benefits. In fact, Dr. Yates claims that there’s little data to suggest the long-term benefit of any particular stress management intervention in the prevention of burnout symptoms. 

“The often-repeated goals of the Triple Aim [enhancing patient experience, improving population health, and reducing costs] may be unreachable until we recognize and address burnout in health care providers,” Dr. Yates wrote. He recommends adding a fourth goal to specifically address physician wellness, which certainly could include mindfulness training and meditation.

Burnout coach, trainer, and consultant Dike Drummond, MD, also professes that physician wellness must be added as the key fourth ingredient to improving health care. “Burnout is a dilemma, a balancing act,” he said. “It takes an integrated strategy.” The CEO and founder of TheHappyMD.com, Dr. Drummond’s integrated strategy to stop physician burnout has been taught to more than 40,000 physicians in 175 organizations, and one element of that strategy can be mindfulness training. 

Dr. Drummond said he doesn’t use the word meditation “because that scares most people”; it takes a commitment and isn’t accessible for a lot of doctors. Instead, he coaches doctors to use a ‘single-breath’ technique to help them reset multiple times throughout the day. “I teach people how to breathe up to the top of their head and then down to the bottom of their feet,” Dr. Drummond said. He calls it the Squeegee Breath Technique because when they exhale, they “wipe away” anything that doesn’t need to be there right now. “If you happen to have a mindfulness practice like meditation, they work synergistically because the calmness you feel in your mediation is available to you at the bottom of these releasing breaths.”

Various studies and surveys provide great detail as to the “why” of physician burnout. And while mindfulness is not the sole answer, it’s something physicians can explore for themselves while health care as an industry looks for a more comprehensive solution. 

“It’s not rocket science,” Dr. Drummond insisted. “You want a different result? You’re not satisfied with the way things are now and you want to feel different? You absolutely must do something different.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

In 2011, the Mayo Clinic began surveying physicians about burnout and found 45% of physicians experienced at least one symptom, such as emotional exhaustion, finding work no longer meaningful, feelings of ineffectiveness, and depersonalizing patients. Associated manifestations can range from headache and insomnia to impaired memory and decreased attention. 

Marija Jovovic/Getty Images

Fast forward 10 years to the Medscape National Physician Burnout and Suicide Report, which found that a similar number of physicians (42%) feel burned out. The COVID-19 pandemic only added insult to injury. A Medscape survey that included nearly 5,000 U.S. physicians revealed that about two-thirds (64%) of them reported burnout had intensified during the crisis.

These elevated numbers are being labeled as “a public health crisis” for the impact widespread physician burnout could have on the health of the doctor and patient safety. The relatively consistent levels across the decade seem to suggest that, if health organizations are attempting to improve physician well-being, it doesn’t appear to be working, forcing doctors to find solutions for themselves.

Jill Wener, MD, considers herself part of the 45% burned out 10 years ago. She was working as an internist at Rush University Medical Center in Chicago, but the “existential reality of being a doctor in this world” was wearing on her. “Staying up with the literature, knowing that every day you’re going to go into work without knowing what you’re going to find, threats of lawsuits, the pressure of perfectionism,” Dr. Wener told this news organization. “By the time I hit burnout, everything made me feel like the world was crashing down on me.”

When Dr. Wener encountered someone who meditated twice a day, she was intrigued, even though the self-described “most Type-A, inside-the-box, nonspiritual type, anxious, linear-path doctor” didn’t think people like her could meditate. Dr. Wener is not alone in her hesitation to explore meditation as a means to help prevent burnout because the causes of burnout are primarily linked to external rather than internal factors. Issues including a loss of autonomy, the burden and distraction of electronic health records, and the intense pressure to comply with rules from the government are not things mindfulness can fix. 

And because the sources of burnout are primarily environmental and inherent to the current medical system, the suggestion that physicians need to fix themselves with meditation can come as a slap in the face. However, when up against a system slow to change, mindfulness can provide physicians access to the one thing they can control: How they perceive and react to what’s in front of them.

At the recommendation of an acquaintance, Dr. Wener enrolled in a Vedic Meditation (also known as Conscious Health Meditation) course taught by Light Watkins, a well-known traveling instructor, author, and speaker. By the second meeting she was successfully practicing 20 minutes twice a day. This form of mediation traces its roots to the Vedas, ancient Indian texts (also the foundation for yoga), and uses a mantra to settle the mind, transitioning to an awake state of inner contentment. 

Three weeks later, Dr. Wener’s daily crying jags ended as did her propensity for road rage. “I felt like I was on the cusp of something life-changing, I just didn’t understand it,” she recalled. “But I knew I was never going to give it up.”
 

Defining mindfulness

“Mindfulness is being able to be present in the moment that you’re in with acceptance of what it is and without judging it,” said Donna Rockwell, PsyD, a leading mindfulness meditation teacher. The practice of mindfulness is really meditation. Dr. Rockwell explained that the noise of our mind is most often focused on either the past or the future. “We’re either bemoaning something that happened earlier or we’re catastrophizing the future,” she said, which prevents us from being present in the moment. 

Meditation allows you to notice when your mind has drifted from the present moment into the past or future. “You gently notice it, label it with a lot of self-compassion, and then bring your mind back by focusing on your breath – going out, going in – and the incoming stimuli through your five senses,” said Dr. Rockwell. “When you’re doing that, you can’t be in the past or future.”

Dr. Rockwell also pointed out that we constantly categorize incoming data of the moment as either “good for me or bad for me,” which gets in the way of simply being present for what you’re facing. “When you’re more fully present, you become more skillful and able to do what this moment is asking of you,” she said. Being mindful allows us to better navigate incoming stimuli, which could be a “code blue” in the ED or a patient who needs another 2 minutes during an office visit. 

When Dr. Wener was burned out, she felt unable to adapt whenever something unexpected happened. “When you have no emotional reserves, everything feels like a big deal,” she said. “The meditation gave me what we call adaptation energy; it filled up my tank and kept me from feeling like I was going to lose it at 10 o’clock in the morning.”

Dr. Rockwell explained burnout as an overactive fight or flight response activated by the amygdala. It starts pumping cortisol, our pupils dilate, and our pores open. The prefrontal cortex is offline when we’re experiencing this physiological response because they both can’t be operational at the same time. “When we’re constantly in a ‘fight or flight’ response and don’t have any access to our prefrontal cortex, we are coming from a brain that is pumping cortisol and that leads to burnout,” said Dr. Rockwell.

“Any fight or flight response leaves a mark on your body,” Dr. Wener echoed. “When we go into our state of deep rest in the meditation practice, which is two to five times more restful than sleep, it heals those stress scars.”
 

Making time for mindfulness

Prescribing mindfulness for physicians is not new. Molecular biologist Jon Kabat-Zinn, PhD, developed Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) in 1979, a practice that incorporates mindfulness exercises to help people become familiar with their behavior patterns in stressful situations. Thus, instead of reacting, they can respond with a clearer understanding of the circumstance. Dr. Kabat-Zinn initially targeted people with chronic health problems to help them cope with the effects of pain and the condition of their illness, but it has expanded to anyone experiencing challenges in their life, including physicians. A standard MBSR course runs 8 weeks, making it a commitment for most people. 

Mindfulness training requires that physicians use what they already have so little of: time.

Dr. Wener was able to take a sabbatical, embarking on a 3-month trip to India to immerse herself in the study of Vedic Meditation. Upon her return, Dr. Wener took a position at Emory University, Atlanta, and has launched a number of CME-accredited meditation courses and retreats. Unlike Dr. Kabat-Zinn, her programs are by physicians and for physicians. She also created an online version of the meditation course to make it more accessible. 

For these reasons, Kara Pepper, MD, an internist in outpatient primary care in Atlanta, was drawn to the meditation course. Dr. Pepper was 7 years into practice when she burned out. “The program dovetailed into my burnout recovery,” she said. “It allowed me space to separate myself from the thoughts I was having about work and just recognize them as just that – as thoughts.”

In the course, Dr. Wener teaches the REST Technique, which she says is different than mindfulness in that she encourages the mind to run rampant. “Trying to control the mind can feel very uncomfortable because we always have thoughts,” she says. “We can’t tell the mind to stop thinking just like we can’t tell the heart to stop beating.” Dr. Wener said the REST Technique lets “the mind swim downstream,” allowing the brain to go into a deep state of rest and start to heal from the scars caused by stress. 

Dr. Pepper said the self-paced online course gave her all the tools she needed, and it was pragmatic and evidence based. “I didn’t feel ‘woo’ or like another gimmick,” she said. Pepper, who continues to practice medicine, became a life coach in 2019 to teach others the skills she uses daily. 
 

An integrated strategy

Dr. Wener acknowledges that meditation is not the panacea for everyone’s burnout, which data support. In a review published in The American Journal of Medicine in 2019, Scott Yates, MD, MBA, from the Center for Executive Medicine in Plano, Tex., found that physicians who had adopted mediation and mindfulness training to decrease anxiety and perceived work stress only experienced modest benefits. In fact, Dr. Yates claims that there’s little data to suggest the long-term benefit of any particular stress management intervention in the prevention of burnout symptoms. 

“The often-repeated goals of the Triple Aim [enhancing patient experience, improving population health, and reducing costs] may be unreachable until we recognize and address burnout in health care providers,” Dr. Yates wrote. He recommends adding a fourth goal to specifically address physician wellness, which certainly could include mindfulness training and meditation.

Burnout coach, trainer, and consultant Dike Drummond, MD, also professes that physician wellness must be added as the key fourth ingredient to improving health care. “Burnout is a dilemma, a balancing act,” he said. “It takes an integrated strategy.” The CEO and founder of TheHappyMD.com, Dr. Drummond’s integrated strategy to stop physician burnout has been taught to more than 40,000 physicians in 175 organizations, and one element of that strategy can be mindfulness training. 

Dr. Drummond said he doesn’t use the word meditation “because that scares most people”; it takes a commitment and isn’t accessible for a lot of doctors. Instead, he coaches doctors to use a ‘single-breath’ technique to help them reset multiple times throughout the day. “I teach people how to breathe up to the top of their head and then down to the bottom of their feet,” Dr. Drummond said. He calls it the Squeegee Breath Technique because when they exhale, they “wipe away” anything that doesn’t need to be there right now. “If you happen to have a mindfulness practice like meditation, they work synergistically because the calmness you feel in your mediation is available to you at the bottom of these releasing breaths.”

Various studies and surveys provide great detail as to the “why” of physician burnout. And while mindfulness is not the sole answer, it’s something physicians can explore for themselves while health care as an industry looks for a more comprehensive solution. 

“It’s not rocket science,” Dr. Drummond insisted. “You want a different result? You’re not satisfied with the way things are now and you want to feel different? You absolutely must do something different.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

In 2011, the Mayo Clinic began surveying physicians about burnout and found 45% of physicians experienced at least one symptom, such as emotional exhaustion, finding work no longer meaningful, feelings of ineffectiveness, and depersonalizing patients. Associated manifestations can range from headache and insomnia to impaired memory and decreased attention. 

Marija Jovovic/Getty Images

Fast forward 10 years to the Medscape National Physician Burnout and Suicide Report, which found that a similar number of physicians (42%) feel burned out. The COVID-19 pandemic only added insult to injury. A Medscape survey that included nearly 5,000 U.S. physicians revealed that about two-thirds (64%) of them reported burnout had intensified during the crisis.

These elevated numbers are being labeled as “a public health crisis” for the impact widespread physician burnout could have on the health of the doctor and patient safety. The relatively consistent levels across the decade seem to suggest that, if health organizations are attempting to improve physician well-being, it doesn’t appear to be working, forcing doctors to find solutions for themselves.

Jill Wener, MD, considers herself part of the 45% burned out 10 years ago. She was working as an internist at Rush University Medical Center in Chicago, but the “existential reality of being a doctor in this world” was wearing on her. “Staying up with the literature, knowing that every day you’re going to go into work without knowing what you’re going to find, threats of lawsuits, the pressure of perfectionism,” Dr. Wener told this news organization. “By the time I hit burnout, everything made me feel like the world was crashing down on me.”

When Dr. Wener encountered someone who meditated twice a day, she was intrigued, even though the self-described “most Type-A, inside-the-box, nonspiritual type, anxious, linear-path doctor” didn’t think people like her could meditate. Dr. Wener is not alone in her hesitation to explore meditation as a means to help prevent burnout because the causes of burnout are primarily linked to external rather than internal factors. Issues including a loss of autonomy, the burden and distraction of electronic health records, and the intense pressure to comply with rules from the government are not things mindfulness can fix. 

And because the sources of burnout are primarily environmental and inherent to the current medical system, the suggestion that physicians need to fix themselves with meditation can come as a slap in the face. However, when up against a system slow to change, mindfulness can provide physicians access to the one thing they can control: How they perceive and react to what’s in front of them.

At the recommendation of an acquaintance, Dr. Wener enrolled in a Vedic Meditation (also known as Conscious Health Meditation) course taught by Light Watkins, a well-known traveling instructor, author, and speaker. By the second meeting she was successfully practicing 20 minutes twice a day. This form of mediation traces its roots to the Vedas, ancient Indian texts (also the foundation for yoga), and uses a mantra to settle the mind, transitioning to an awake state of inner contentment. 

Three weeks later, Dr. Wener’s daily crying jags ended as did her propensity for road rage. “I felt like I was on the cusp of something life-changing, I just didn’t understand it,” she recalled. “But I knew I was never going to give it up.”
 

Defining mindfulness

“Mindfulness is being able to be present in the moment that you’re in with acceptance of what it is and without judging it,” said Donna Rockwell, PsyD, a leading mindfulness meditation teacher. The practice of mindfulness is really meditation. Dr. Rockwell explained that the noise of our mind is most often focused on either the past or the future. “We’re either bemoaning something that happened earlier or we’re catastrophizing the future,” she said, which prevents us from being present in the moment. 

Meditation allows you to notice when your mind has drifted from the present moment into the past or future. “You gently notice it, label it with a lot of self-compassion, and then bring your mind back by focusing on your breath – going out, going in – and the incoming stimuli through your five senses,” said Dr. Rockwell. “When you’re doing that, you can’t be in the past or future.”

Dr. Rockwell also pointed out that we constantly categorize incoming data of the moment as either “good for me or bad for me,” which gets in the way of simply being present for what you’re facing. “When you’re more fully present, you become more skillful and able to do what this moment is asking of you,” she said. Being mindful allows us to better navigate incoming stimuli, which could be a “code blue” in the ED or a patient who needs another 2 minutes during an office visit. 

When Dr. Wener was burned out, she felt unable to adapt whenever something unexpected happened. “When you have no emotional reserves, everything feels like a big deal,” she said. “The meditation gave me what we call adaptation energy; it filled up my tank and kept me from feeling like I was going to lose it at 10 o’clock in the morning.”

Dr. Rockwell explained burnout as an overactive fight or flight response activated by the amygdala. It starts pumping cortisol, our pupils dilate, and our pores open. The prefrontal cortex is offline when we’re experiencing this physiological response because they both can’t be operational at the same time. “When we’re constantly in a ‘fight or flight’ response and don’t have any access to our prefrontal cortex, we are coming from a brain that is pumping cortisol and that leads to burnout,” said Dr. Rockwell.

“Any fight or flight response leaves a mark on your body,” Dr. Wener echoed. “When we go into our state of deep rest in the meditation practice, which is two to five times more restful than sleep, it heals those stress scars.”
 

Making time for mindfulness

Prescribing mindfulness for physicians is not new. Molecular biologist Jon Kabat-Zinn, PhD, developed Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) in 1979, a practice that incorporates mindfulness exercises to help people become familiar with their behavior patterns in stressful situations. Thus, instead of reacting, they can respond with a clearer understanding of the circumstance. Dr. Kabat-Zinn initially targeted people with chronic health problems to help them cope with the effects of pain and the condition of their illness, but it has expanded to anyone experiencing challenges in their life, including physicians. A standard MBSR course runs 8 weeks, making it a commitment for most people. 

Mindfulness training requires that physicians use what they already have so little of: time.

Dr. Wener was able to take a sabbatical, embarking on a 3-month trip to India to immerse herself in the study of Vedic Meditation. Upon her return, Dr. Wener took a position at Emory University, Atlanta, and has launched a number of CME-accredited meditation courses and retreats. Unlike Dr. Kabat-Zinn, her programs are by physicians and for physicians. She also created an online version of the meditation course to make it more accessible. 

For these reasons, Kara Pepper, MD, an internist in outpatient primary care in Atlanta, was drawn to the meditation course. Dr. Pepper was 7 years into practice when she burned out. “The program dovetailed into my burnout recovery,” she said. “It allowed me space to separate myself from the thoughts I was having about work and just recognize them as just that – as thoughts.”

In the course, Dr. Wener teaches the REST Technique, which she says is different than mindfulness in that she encourages the mind to run rampant. “Trying to control the mind can feel very uncomfortable because we always have thoughts,” she says. “We can’t tell the mind to stop thinking just like we can’t tell the heart to stop beating.” Dr. Wener said the REST Technique lets “the mind swim downstream,” allowing the brain to go into a deep state of rest and start to heal from the scars caused by stress. 

Dr. Pepper said the self-paced online course gave her all the tools she needed, and it was pragmatic and evidence based. “I didn’t feel ‘woo’ or like another gimmick,” she said. Pepper, who continues to practice medicine, became a life coach in 2019 to teach others the skills she uses daily. 
 

An integrated strategy

Dr. Wener acknowledges that meditation is not the panacea for everyone’s burnout, which data support. In a review published in The American Journal of Medicine in 2019, Scott Yates, MD, MBA, from the Center for Executive Medicine in Plano, Tex., found that physicians who had adopted mediation and mindfulness training to decrease anxiety and perceived work stress only experienced modest benefits. In fact, Dr. Yates claims that there’s little data to suggest the long-term benefit of any particular stress management intervention in the prevention of burnout symptoms. 

“The often-repeated goals of the Triple Aim [enhancing patient experience, improving population health, and reducing costs] may be unreachable until we recognize and address burnout in health care providers,” Dr. Yates wrote. He recommends adding a fourth goal to specifically address physician wellness, which certainly could include mindfulness training and meditation.

Burnout coach, trainer, and consultant Dike Drummond, MD, also professes that physician wellness must be added as the key fourth ingredient to improving health care. “Burnout is a dilemma, a balancing act,” he said. “It takes an integrated strategy.” The CEO and founder of TheHappyMD.com, Dr. Drummond’s integrated strategy to stop physician burnout has been taught to more than 40,000 physicians in 175 organizations, and one element of that strategy can be mindfulness training. 

Dr. Drummond said he doesn’t use the word meditation “because that scares most people”; it takes a commitment and isn’t accessible for a lot of doctors. Instead, he coaches doctors to use a ‘single-breath’ technique to help them reset multiple times throughout the day. “I teach people how to breathe up to the top of their head and then down to the bottom of their feet,” Dr. Drummond said. He calls it the Squeegee Breath Technique because when they exhale, they “wipe away” anything that doesn’t need to be there right now. “If you happen to have a mindfulness practice like meditation, they work synergistically because the calmness you feel in your mediation is available to you at the bottom of these releasing breaths.”

Various studies and surveys provide great detail as to the “why” of physician burnout. And while mindfulness is not the sole answer, it’s something physicians can explore for themselves while health care as an industry looks for a more comprehensive solution. 

“It’s not rocket science,” Dr. Drummond insisted. “You want a different result? You’re not satisfied with the way things are now and you want to feel different? You absolutely must do something different.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.