Navigating love and intimacy as a doctor

“Wherever the art of medicine is loved, there is also a love of humanity” — Hippocrates

Love and intimacy are complex concepts about which several books and plays have been written, movies made, and social media quotes generated. It has often enchanted and frustrated but is almost always a common topic of discussion among friends, significant others and family. Discussion in media has most recently revolved around topics of gender identity, sexual orientation, consent and safety, which are again topics within love and intimacy that are historical but perhaps more visible recently.

As doctors, love presents a unique set of challenges and discussion points. The quote by Hippocrates encapsulates perhaps one of the unique challenges in medicine when it comes to love. On the one hand, there is the altruistic aspect of medicine where we are expected to be magnanimous and selfless in our love of humanity when we provide medical care, but on the other hand, one must wonder, what version of ourselves do we then have left when it comes to expressing love towards our intimate partners, friends and family?

It’s hard to say, as an editor for a medical journal, without comprehensive quantitative evidence; however, when it comes to discussing this over a couple of drinks, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single doctor in possession of any semblance of free time must be in want of a partner.

Shows like Grey’s Anatomy, New Amsterdam and, for the “Kiwis” among you, Shortland Street paint quite a romanticised idea of how doctors find love. The doctors on these shows are overworked but gorgeously made up and have time to go out for dinners, communicate for hours across desks and hospital beds while also facing natural and man-made disasters such as bomb threats and fires fairly regularly. Historically, romantic novels often have a central or peripheral medical character who is exceptionally lovely but hopelessly flawed. One can’t help falling in love with such altruistic characters, but the reality of finding love as a doctor and perhaps with a doctor is quite different. Often the challenges are disappointingly common.

In terms of mental health, workload and stress, there is no denying that doctors almost always perform badly. Compared with the general population, our cohort tends to have higher rates of suicide, mental exhaustion, burnout and mental health disorders. Women are disproportionately represented here — female physicians tend to face a higher burden of this. Depending on where you read your research and the way it is conducted, doctors tend to have higher divorce rates than the general population. In certain studies, though, women again disproportionately have higher rates of divorce compared with men.

I’m not an expert on relationships, simply a sleep-deprived GP who has a toddler and a partner who is a GP as well. But I treat and look after a lot of medical students and doctors. It has become evident to me that we often have personality traits such as perfectionism, self-doubt, a poor work–life balance and poor boundary setting which have a significant impact on our ability to find love and maintain our relationships. In the infamous words of Ru-Paul, “If you can’t love yourself how the hell are you going to love someone else”. (Reality TV is fast becoming the norm in our household)

Most of the doctors and students I see have extremely poor self-esteem. The strong sense of imposter syndrome they have pervades most aspects of their lives including their mood and relationships. Conversely, a sense of needing to be in control makes the search for love harder, as it becomes harder to open to the possibility of finding the kind of love that is sustainable for both parties. A lot of what I am writing and talking about is anecdotal — how can it not be — there isn’t a lot of research on the act of doctors finding love. It is surprising though how little focus is given to love and relationships in research around doctors’ wellbeing and mental health.

Although research has been published regarding doctors’ relationships, including marriage and divorce rates, there is very little that examines how doctors find love in modern times, especially with the challenges inherent to using dating apps. In a recent survey that examined several lifestyle trends among American doctors, it found that more than half (55%) of the doctors were living with or were married to non-medical partners, and that out of the cohort that was single, women over-represented men by almost double (13% v 6%).

It is not surprising to find that women in medicine might struggle to find partners — several of my female medical friends have noted prospective partners being quite intimidated by their profession. This is not the case for my male medical friends — in their case, it’s almost a tick of approval for prospective partners. One of my friends told me about how she changed her profession on a dating app from doctor to an administrative assistant and suddenly found herself getting messaged more frequently. Anecdotally, a recent group on Facebook for Australian doctors finding love also has far more female members looking for partners than male members.

Another aspect of doctors finding love is whether doctors from LGBTQI+ backgrounds feel safe exploring relationships within their field. The MJA has already published on how medical education needs to be significantly rehauled to match the current discourse on sexual orientation and gender identity. Although dating apps mean that health professionals can explore wider social circles for dating and relationships, dating within health professionals is still a prominent source for relationships. Again, this is based purely on what I have heard my colleagues and friends describe, but often hospitals and clinics are considered quite conservative in nature and people of gender diverse backgrounds don’t often feel safe expressing their orientation. Similarly, in social media groups with doctors, the discourse is often very heteronormative, and people of diverse backgrounds are lumped into a distinct “other” that can be quite demoralising.

Perhaps another aspect of finding love and intimacy that some of us who practise in the primary care/sexual health field can relate to is that doctors struggle with looking after their sexual and reproductive health. Several of my female patients who are doctors self-prescribe contraception, often not aware of the contraindications against it. Quite a few struggle to ask for sexually transmissible disease (STD) checks simply because the circle of doctors who know other doctors is so small. In regional and rural areas, I imagine this is exponentially harder. Several doctors self-order their own STD checks and come to me for treatment, and it takes quite a bit of convincing to ask them to do a comprehensive STD check depending on their risk profile and then return to me for follow-up.

Doctors will continue to be a source of inspiration for romantic shows and books going forward. Is it a perk of the job? To be considered easy to fall in love with? Perhaps! But if you’re female or come from a gender diverse background or have a sexual orientation other than heterosexual, the challenges are often manyfold. Analysing how doctors find love and manage relationships might be an interesting focus of future research on doctor’s wellbeing.

Dr Aajuli Shukla is a Sydney-based GP, and a Deputy Medical Editor with the Medical Journal of Australia.

The statements or opinions expressed in this article reflect the views of the authors and do not necessarily represent the official policy of the AMA, the MJA or InSight+ unless so stated. 

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