‘What would love do?’ A Practical Tool for Hard Times

We are currently living and practicing medicine in a moment that feels unusually unsteady. The ground feels less solid—scientifically, politically, socially.

For many of us, especially women physicians, this instability isn’t abstract.

It touches safety, identity, belonging, and the heavy responsibility of showing up to care for others while feeling exposed—often while already carrying the load of physician burnout and moral injury.

It’s hard to do your job when the ground beneath you feels uncertain.

Of course, you’re feeling more guarded, more exhausted, or less resourced than usual.

Many of you already use the question “What would love do?” in your personal life, in relationships, in the ER, and in the clinic—when the right next step isn’t obvious.

The message of my TEDx talk applies in this current context, too.

“What would love do?” doesn’t ask you to rise above what’s happening or pretend it isn’t affecting you.

It helps you stay oriented when fear—personal or collective—starts to narrow your field of vision.

And love often looks practical.

It might look like choosing language that protects rather than escalates.

It might look like staying grounded in science while also acknowledging fear or mistrust in the room—without taking it on as your job to fix.

It might look like naming limits, especially when you’re being asked to carry more than is reasonable, sustainable, or safe.

For some, love shows up as firmer boundaries—around news consumption, around conversations that feel threatening or dehumanizing, around how much emotional labor you can offer in a single day.

For others, it looks like slowing down long enough to come back online—to access the part of you that can think, lead, and decide with clarity. Nervous system steadiness comes before answers.

When science is questioned, when identities feel politicized, when we feel vulnerable, it’s easy to slip into defensiveness or urgency.

“What would love do?” offers another stance: steadiness.

It brings you back to what you can control—how you show up, how you speak, where you draw lines, and how you care for yourself while continuing to care for others.

In a broader environment that feels unstable or unsafe, this question creates space. Space to respond rather than react. Space to stay aligned with your values. Space to regain your steadiness.

Why does this matter? Because steadiness comes before answers—and it’s how we practice sustainable, values-based medicine in hard moments.