The Eternal Duality of the Physician and the Wounded Healer

February 9, 2026
Author: Dr. Christian Jesús Hamilton Núñez
Versión en Español

Introduction

The physician is “enlisted in the army that fights against death”; this is undoubtedly a metaphor that encapsulates the intense dedication and combative spirit of the profession. However, at the heart of this vocation lies the central paradox—or the dilemma of the White Coat Sisyphus: How do we deal with the reality of knowing that we enlist to fight against death, while knowing that, inevitably, we will all die? To what extent is this a “lost” battle for which we must continue to show up every day? This article argues that the burden and privilege of healing require going beyond technique. It is imperative to forge an intimate dialogue with the medical self, recognizing the profound duality of being both healer and human. Only through the acceptance of this paradox and the urgent necessity of self-care can the care of others be sustained ethically and emotionally. 
Keywords: Self-care, Introspection, Self-denial, Sacrifice, and Passion. 

The physician, by the very nature of their vocation, is a daily traveler to the edge of existence. They not only work with life but coexist intimately with its fragility and finitude. The healthcare professional is a firsthand witness to human fragility, observing Memento Mori (remember that you will die) not as a philosophical abstraction, but as a daily clinical reality in the emergency room, the consultation office, or the intensive care unit. This constant closeness generates a sui generis perspective, but also professional burnout syndrome and emotional burden due to its cumulative effect.

It is particularly difficult to manage emotions in cases where, despite every effort, medical knowledge, and technology, the physician knows that there are not many options left for the patient. In these moments, science and technique reach their limits, revealing the humanity of the healer. This is where the Weight of “Atlas” manifests itself, that is, the self-imposed and external need to carry the world (or another’s life) upon one’s shoulders. This burden becomes especially overwhelming when the physician knows that, despite heroism, the outcome escapes their control. It is the struggle against destiny with bound hands, where effort does not always guarantee victory, but becomes an opportunity to reflect upon the following questions: Is it worth being “enlisted in the army that fights against death”? How do we deal with the reality of knowing that we enlist to fight against death, while knowing that, inevitably, we will all die? To what extent is this a “lost” battle for which we must continue fighting every day?

In the dizzying pace of the clinical workday—amid emergency codes, endless consultations, and the weight of life-or-death decisions—the physician lives in a perpetual state of outward orientation. All their psychic and emotional energy is directed toward the person in front of them: the patient, who always expects the best care from their physician, not only regarding decisions and treatments related to their illness, but also expects the best from the physician emotionally, spiritually, and humanly. However, the physician immersed in the search for the best treatment or decision for their patient forgets a vital aspect whose sad reality is summarized in this phrase: “The physician almost never turns to look at themselves and ask how they are doing emotionally.” Now then, is this omission a personal flaw, or rather an unsustainable survival strategy driven by society’s idolization of medical invulnerability?

At first glance, it might appear to be a personal omission, but multiple factors are involved. For example, not only society but also the healthcare system itself demands that the physician be a figure of absolute control—this is known as the Myth of the Demigod. Consequently, questioning one’s own emotional state is mistakenly perceived as a sign of weakness that could endanger the patient’s life. To continue entering the operating room, delivering bad news, or witnessing suffering day after day, many professionals erect an emotional wall. Disconnecting from their own emotions (the “almost never”) becomes the quickest mechanism to avoid immediate burnout, even though it only serves to postpone emotional collapse. “With regard to our own behavior, we frequently impose imaginary obligations upon ourselves: I must…, I need…, I should… Many people, for example, feel the need to constantly please others and consequently end up postponing their own interests. They assume they must achieve all their goals in order not to feel bad, or do everything perfectly in order to feel satisfied. By setting unrealistic goals, they frequently become disappointed, giving rise to negative emotions.” (Vásquez, 2022, p. 102)

In this sense, could excessive workload and accelerated pace of life act as a type of anesthesia? With no time to stop and reflect, the physician forgets to “pamper and nurture themselves,” devoting everything to others as human beings and as physicians. Hurry is the enemy of introspection, and certainly, when this disconnection is prolonged, the physician runs the risk of falling into professional cynicism, chronic exhaustion, and, paradoxically, a long-term decrease in empathic capacity.

Therefore, the first and most difficult task on the path toward self-care is disarmament, that is, laying down the “Atlas Complex.” By professional habit and social pressure, the physician imposes upon themselves and is imposed the identity of the “Atlas Complex”: the mythological, invulnerable figure who sustains the weight of the world (in this case, the lives of others) on their shoulders. This layer of invincibility, although useful in the heat of emergency, is an armor that isolates and exhausts them in daily routine. But what would it imply to set aside the Atlas complex? It is a question that acquires different nuances. First, it implies recognizing Finitude—in other words, accepting that there are inescapable limits to one’s knowledge, energy, and, most importantly, to one’s control over illness and death. It also implies allowing Fragility, that is, lowering one’s guard and recognizing that behind the white coat exists a person susceptible to frustration, error, and sorrow. Likewise, it implies redefining Strength: true strength does not reside in denying help or rest, but in the honesty of knowing when they are needed.

Now then, what benefits does the physician obtain by momentarily disengaging from the Atlas complex? Once “Atlas” is set aside, the physician can encounter their “Wounded Healer.” By validating the wound as an essential part of the art of healing, the process of rehumanization is triggered, which occurs when the physician deliberately examines their scars—scars accumulated in the daily exercise of their profession—such as frustration, when science was not enough; errors or technical or judgment failures, accepted as part of human learning; or losses, understood as unprocessed grief for patients who have passed away, among many other personal and familial experiences that generate emotional wounds and scars.

By confronting these wounds, the physician becomes rehumanized. From demigod, they become a human being with an extraordinary vocation. What was once a source of guilt or shame transforms into a source of radical empathy and sacred connection with the patient, who is also wounded. After disengaging from Atlas and recognizing emotional fissures, the objective is not to hide them or pretend they never existed, but to integrate them and transform them into something valuable, as occurs with the Japanese technique known as Kintsugi (literally, “repair with gold”). Kintsugi is a Japanese technique for repairing ceramic objects by highlighting fractures, joining them with lacquer mixed with gold, silver, or platinum instead of hiding them. This practice has become a philosophy of life that celebrates resilience, the beauty of scars, and the acceptance of imperfections as part of an object’s or person’s history. In this sense, the physician’s inner reflection must be an act of “emotional Kintsugi.” In the medical context, this means not hiding cracks such as physical and mental exhaustion, cynicism, guilt over an adverse outcome, frustration, helplessness, sadness, or disappointment. These are not failures to be concealed beneath a layer of false professionalism; rather, they are cracks that reveal the human struggle of someone “enlisted in the army that fights against death.” In this regard, “the Stoics knew that by changing the way we view external events, we change their impact upon us. They recommended, for example, separating our thoughts from external elements, avoiding merging with them. By maintaining this cognitive distance, we can evaluate everything with greater objectivity and serenity. It is not things themselves that disturb us, but our opinion about them” (Vásquez, 2022, p. 196).

Now then, how can this “emotional Kintsugi” repair be achieved? Is there any type of material that can be used? One can use the “gold of self-knowledge.” This gold is active introspection, validation of difficult emotions, and deep understanding of one’s own limits. Each time the physician allows themselves to feel and process a loss, they apply a layer of gold to their wound, strengthening the vessel. What is the result of this golden repair? Integrated wounds become the source of deeper and more authentic empathy. In other words, the physician who has recognized their own fatigue and frustration is capable of seeing fatigue and frustration in the patient’s relatives, not merely pathology. Therefore, having examined their own vulnerability (that of the “Atlas” who failed), the physician no longer projects the need for invincibility onto the patient, but encounters them on a more horizontal and human plane. This empathy, born of shared and processed suffering, is the key component of the sacred connection between healer and patient. Consequently, the physician becomes a more trustworthy guide, not because they are perfect, but because they have learned to honor and heal their own imperfections.

From this perspective, the physician’s introspection converges upon a fundamental truth: self-care is not a selfish act, but the pillar of professional ethics, hence the challenge of exploring the old adage: Physician, heal thyself. Consequently, stopping is, paradoxically, the most ethical act of all. This pause is not a luxury earned at the end of the day, but a necessity imposed by the constant weight of others’ lives. If the physician’s capacity for empathy is their most valuable tool, it must be sharpened and maintained; therefore, “Self-Care” ultimately reveals itself as the fundamental prerequisite for “Caring for Others.” Without a doubt, it is a fact that we cannot give what we do not have; in other words, if our emotional reservoir is empty, our empathy is merely superficial courtesy, not authentic connection.

In conclusion, the path toward sustainability in medicine does not reside in the pursuit of unattainable perfection, but in the courage of vulnerability. By freeing the physician from the myth of Atlas and embracing the wisdom of Kintsugi, we discover that scars and limits do not diminish the power to heal, but anchor it in truer empathy. Medical vocation, with its noble struggle against death, thus becomes a mutual privilege: the patient receives integral care, and the healer ensures a professional life that not only saves others, but also saves themselves.

Referencias

1. Vázquez, M. (2022). Invicto: Logra más, sufre menos. Penguin Random House. 
2. Real Academia Nacional de Medicina, ed. (2012). Diccionario de términos médicos. Editorial Médica Panamericana. p. 1500. ISBN 978-84-9835-183-5. 
3. Nouwen, H. J. M. (1996). El Sanador Herido: Ministerios en un mundo de sufrimiento. PPC. 
4. García Uribe, J. C., & Espinal Espinal, L. A. (2023). Tensiones éticas, causas y consecuencias del síndrome de burnout en el personal de salud en tiempos de la Covid-19: una revisión y análisis desde la bioética. Revista Latinoamericana de Bioética, 23(1), 61–80. 
5. Seltzer, P. A. (2020). Kintsugi: The art of embracing your imperfections. Rockridge Press.

Dr. Christian Jesús Hamilton Núñez is a Medical Surgeon from the Universidad Autónoma Benito Juárez de Oaxaca and certified by the National Council of General Medicine, A.C. He holds an International Master’s Degree in Bioethics from Euroinnova International Online Education postgraduate studies center. Member of the International Association of Bioethics (IAB), active full member of the Mexican National Academy of Bioethics (ANMB), Vice President of the Oaxaca Chapter of the Mexican National Academy of Bioethics (ANMB), Secretary of the Hospital Bioethics Committee of Centro Ambulatorio Santa Fe, and Secretary of the Biosafety Committee of Red Osmo. Additional training includes diplomas in: Foundations of Bioethics at the Centro de Investigación Social Avanzada (CISAV), Practical Topics in Bioethics at the Faculty of Bioethics, Universidad Anáhuac, Ethics, Bioethics, and Christian Human Formation at the Pontifical University of Mexico, Introduction to Ethics in Human Research from the UNESCO Bioethics Network Continuing Education Program, Specialized Diploma in Medical Law at Universidad Latina de Guerrero (ULAG), Biomedical Law and Bioethics at Euroinnova Business School, and The Application of Bioethics in Health Services. Email: Hamiltoncj19@gmail.com 

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