Medicine is a chronically inflamed environment. In that sense, medical dramas got it right.
It’s about us—doctors fighting with doctors, doctors butting heads with administration, and doctors wrestling over decisions that, half the time, aren’t even about patients. The tension is real.
Sometimes it’s about real disagreements—how to approach a case, what’s best for a patient, and what specialty should be responsible for what patient. But more often, it’s about ego, turf wars, or plain old self-interests.
Stepping into this world is sobering for young doctors. They have opinions—sometimes sharp and well-informed, and sometimes naïve and simplistic—but getting anyone to listen is almost impossible.
Even when your ideas have nothing to do with medical knowledge, but rather with administrative common sense, pushing them through feels like pushing yourself through a birth canal.
As you age, you understand that the system is designed this way for good reason. And “good” does a lot of heavy lifting in this sentence. Good reasons can mean morally good (for the benefit of patients or doctors), but they can also mean efficient, profitable, or easy (for the hospital or external interests).
Fresh out of medical school we are often surprised by how prevalent the good reasons of the second variety are.
In that environment, we trust no one and start seeing conspiracies everywhere. This, combined with the demand for immediate responses, pushes us to impulsivity. We are overwhelmed, angry, and ensnared by the incessant demands of unexpected pressures.
The reaction? Natural and almost involuntary—a raised voice here, a curt reply there.
These are not mere lapses in decorum, but rather manifestations of deeper struggles. An unseen battle we all know but rarely face. In such moments, when we feel somebody is about to take advantage of us and the instinct is to act, pausing seems counterintuitive.
But pause we must.
This way we gather our thoughts, assess the situation with clarity, and ensure that the subsequent action is guided by reason and empathy, not reflex and frustration. This reflective intermission can reduce the instances of regret tied to impulsive decisions.
And if you haven’t tried it, lack of regret is formidable. Not only does it feel good in the short run, but it also protects us against rationalizing our mistakes away, which is a good way to grow as a person.
This is not only philosophical but also fact. Research supports it.
· Longer pause time is associated with more efficient problem-solving strategies.
· Students with longer pause time take fewer steps to solve a problem.
· Students with longer pause time complete more problems on their first attempt.
· Students with longer pause time reset and reattempt problems less frequently.
There’s no reason to believe this doesn’t also apply outside of school.
However, beyond all research, pausing can simply be about common sense. When we pause before reacting, we improve comprehension and the quality of our responses and reduce the risk of conflict.
And while lack of conflict for the sake of lack of conflict is rarely a good idea, avoiding it when it’s gratuitous, always is.
Here’s how to pause:
Recognize: Acknowledge the trigger—the event or interaction that disturbs your peace. This requires self-awareness, often nurtured in time and through practice.
Breathe: A physical manifestation of the pause. Deep, measured breaths reset the physiological responses that accompany stress, inviting some calm.
Reflect: Swiftly but thoroughly assess why you feel the way you do and what outcome you aim for with your reaction.
Respond: Move forward with deliberate, composed action or verbal communication. This doesn’t mean suppressing emotions but managing them effectively.
Repeatedly exercising this pause cultivates a resilient mindset. With time, pauses become second nature, seamlessly integrated into your life, and leading to more fulfilling professional relationships.
I’m not ignorant of how weird a pause can feel in the middle of a tense situation. But it feels weird simply because of how unfamiliar we are with it. We’re not used to seeing someone take a second to think. It feels un-witty-like.
Yet our lives are not scripted by Aaron Sorkin.
We must observe that fast-paced real-life dialogue is often weak and regrettable. And why wouldn’t it be? We prioritize the quick over the thoughtful. At best, we hope to make the other person feel stupid, and that helps nobody.
Pause before reacting.
Embrace the pause for your sake and appreciate it when you see it in others. It truly is a special skill.
Work it into your life.