Art and Science of Medicine
The practice of medicine is often seen as a science—a set of rules, tests, and treatments. But for those of us who work closely with patients, it is much more than that. Medicine is about people, about their fears, their hopes, their struggles, and their resilience. It is about listening to stories, understanding emotions, and helping patients find their way through some of the most difficult moments of their lives.
As a doctor, I have come to see medicine as an art, much like writing. Both require deep observation, patience, and the ability to see beyond the surface. A patient’s illness is not just a collection of symptoms—it is a story waiting to be understood. Likewise, a writer does not just put words on a page but searches for meaning in human experiences. Both professions require listening, not just to words but to what is left unsaid.
Every day in medicine, I witness the depth of the human experience. Some patients are afraid, some are hopeful, and some are simply exhausted by their illness. Each person has a unique story, shaped by their past, their family, and their dreams for the future. A simple medical chart cannot capture all of that, just as a brief summary cannot truly capture the complexity of a person’s life. But as doctors, we must try. We must listen carefully, ask the right questions, and pay attention to the small details that might reveal something important.
Writing is a way of doing the same thing. When I write, I try to capture emotions, to express thoughts that might otherwise remain hidden. Just as a doctor must carefully choose the right words when speaking to a patient, a writer must carefully choose the right words to convey a feeling or an idea. In both cases, words have power—they can comfort, they can explain, they can even heal.
Medicine has also taught me about the power of silence. Sometimes, the most meaningful moments in my work are not filled with words but with quiet understanding. Sitting with a patient who is processing difficult news, holding the hand of someone in pain, or simply giving a nod of reassurance—these small moments matter. In writing, too, what is left unsaid can be just as powerful as what is written. Pauses, empty spaces, and unfinished thoughts often carry deep meaning.
One of the biggest lessons I have learnt is that the stories we tell ourselves shape our reality. A patient who believes they will never recover may struggle more than someone who holds onto hope. A person who has been told for years that they are weak may begin to believe it, even when their strength is clear to everyone else. As doctors, we do more than prescribe medicine—we help patients see themselves in a new way. We offer a different story, one that includes the possibility of healing and strength.
This is why both medicine and writing are so important to me. In medicine, I help patients rewrite their stories, changing narratives of fear into ones of resilience. In writing, I try to capture what it means to be human, to remind myself and others that we are not alone in our struggles. Both practices require honesty, patience, and a willingness to see beyond the obvious.
The most meaningful moments in medicine are not always the big breakthroughs or life-saving procedures. They are often the small, quiet interactions—the moment when a patient realizes they are truly being heard, the relief in someone’s eyes when they finally receive an explanation for their pain, or the simple act of sitting with someone who feels alone. These moments remind me why I chose this path.
In the same way, writing is not just about creating dramatic stories. It is about capturing the small moments that make life meaningful—the way someone smiles when they remember a happy memory, the hesitation in a person’s voice when they are afraid, the comfort of a kind word at the right time.
Both medicine and writing teach us to pay attention—to details, to emotions, to the things that make us human. They remind us that every person has a story worth telling and that sometimes, the best thing we can do is listen. Whether I am in a hospital room or in front of a blank page, my goal remains the same: to understand, to connect, and to bring a little more light into the world.
In every pulse, a story beats,
In every word, a soul retreats.
One hand heals, the other writes,
Both chase truth through days and nights.
A hidden torment , a silent tear,
Both arts draw us ever near.
Medicine mends, and words endure,
One is art, the other—its cure.
Dr Showkat Hussain Shah is consultant cardiologist Govt Medical College Anantnag
