Slow and steady healing

“The good physician treats the disease; the great physician treats the patient who has the disease” — Sir William Osler (1849-1919) IN 1986, Carlo Petrini founded the ‘slow food’ movement in Italy to counteract the so-called ‘fast food’, by promoting local food cultures, traditional cooking and sustainable farming. Inspired by this, the concept of ‘slow medicine’ took birth: a patient-centred approach to healthcare that prioritises time, listening, and comprehensive care over rapid, high-tech, intensive interventions. It emphasises quality, the patient’s context and shared decision-making to avoid hurried, unnecessary, harmful treatments. There is no doubt that modern medicine is revolutionising healthcare. In emergency situations diagnoses are generated in minutes. Imaging technologies are replacing exploratory surgery. Algorithms now identify patterns invisible to the human eye. This advancement has saved countless lives. Yet amid this relentless drive for efficiency, questions are emerging: what do we lose in this fast-paced medicine? Most health challenges are the result of an imbalance in our lives, and most quick-fix solutions actually exacerbate these imbalances. The slow medicine approach focuses on identifying the root cause of our health challenges, creating a thoughtful, step-by-step and long-term response to restore balance in our lives, because good care requires time, attention, and reflection. It reminds us that patients are not just a set of signs and symptoms to be fixed, but individuals whose illnesses are embedded in social, psychological and cultural contexts. For countries like Pakistan, slow medicine is particularly relevant. Slow medicine is built on three principles: careful deliberation before intervention; minimal necessary treatment rather than maximal possible treatment; and respect for the patient’s lived experience and values. It asks physicians to pause and think before acting. In medicine, as in life, acting quickly is not always acting wisely. The concept has gained attention in response to the global problem of overdiagnosis, overtreatment and rising costs of healthcare. As diagnostic tools become more sensitive, medicine increasingly detects abnormalities that may never cause harm. Small lesions, borderline results and incidental findings often mean further tests and interventions, leading to unnecessary physical, psychological and financial stress. Slow medicine offers a different approach. It suggests that not every abnormal result or every symptom requires a battery of tests and immediate action. Observation, patience, context and careful history-taking can be more valuable in many situations. Although the principles of slow medicine can be applied to any clinical interaction, there are at least four areas where they are most relevant. Chronic diseases such as diabetes, hypertension and cardiovascular disease evolve over years, shaped by lifestyle, environment and stress. Managing them effectively requires careful and thoughtful history-taking, a good doctor-patient relationship, continuity of care and gradual adjustment. Understanding why the condition exists in the first place is more important than simply making changes to the prescription. Secondly, mental health conditions such as depression, anxiety and trauma are closely related to relationships and social contexts. In healthcare systems like Pakistan, mental health consultations are brief, fragmented and heavily reliant on medications. Very few psychiatric consultations end without a prescription. Yet psychological healing often depends on something more essential: being listened to and understood — things that cannot be rushed. Geriatric care is another area. Older patients frequently have multiple conditions, medications and vulnerabilities. Aggressive interventions may prolong life but at the cost of dignity and comfort. Slow medicine shifts the question from ‘what more can we do? ’ to ‘what is worth doing? ’ In many cases, less intervention results in better quality of life. End-of-life care perhaps represents the most profound expression of slow medicine philosophy. The goal is no longer cure but care: relief of pain and suffering, preserving dignity, and respecting patients’ and family’s wishes. This requires patience, tolerance and time and cannot be rushed. For countries like Pakistan, slow medicine is particularly relevant. Many of the country’s health problems are shaped by societal conditions: poverty, unemployment, rampant inflation, political uncertainty, violence, etc leading to medicalisation of social distress. Patients and physicians both get trapped in seeing these problems through the biomedical lens, ie, quick assessment in which patients’ complaints are addressed through various lab and radiology tests, followed by medicines, while the root cause of their complaints are hardly ever asked about or addressed. Doctors are neither trained nor feel comfortable enquiring about social factors as most wonder that even if they inquire about them what can they can do about it. No wonder the burden of almost all conditions — communicable and non-communicable — is extremely high in Pakistan. Ultimately, slow medicine is not about rejecting urgency where it is necessary — emergencies demand rapid action, and modern medicine excels in such moments. It is about recognising that much of healthcare does not occur in emergencies. It unfolds over time — in chronic illness, in mental health, in ageing and in recovery. In these areas, haste can do more harm than good. At its heart, slow medicine is a reminder of what medicine has always aspired to be: not just a technical but a human one — one that demands not only scientific advancement, but also wisdom, humility, compassion and humanity. It asks clinicians to see beyond the scan, the lab report and the prescription pad, and to engage with the person behind the patient. It reminds us that the true practice of medicine is in caring for people. In 1953, Sir Robert Hutchison wrote A physician’s prayer: “From inability to let well alone; from too much zeal for the new and contempt for what is old; from putting knowledge before wisdom, science before art, and cleverness before common sense; from treating patients as cases; and from making the cure of the disease more grievous than the endurance of the same, Good Lord, deliver us. ” More than 70 years later, his prophetic words remain strikingly relevant to modern medicine. The writer is professor emeritus, psychiatry, Aga Khan University. mmkarticle@gmail. com Published in Dawn, June 6th, 2026

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