only we slow down enough to

transformed my practice. My

to communicate in a safe space.

in tertiary settings regularly

Dr Anne Stephenson GP in Torquay, Victoria.

hear it.

And sadly, patients who do not feel heard, will very likely hold back and make diagnosis even

biggest regret is not discovering this training earlier in my career.

By attending experiential

We get it wrong, try again and find new ways to communicate that work for you and your patients.

receive this deep listening training, yet for GPs, it remains much harder to access because of cost and scheduling challenges.

more fraught.

communication courses, I have

Patients express their grat-

But in a system that burns so

What we need is not diagnostic certainty but connection.

This deeper listening sounds simple. In reality, it is a skill that takes hands-on practice.

For me, training in communication has completely

had the chance to workshop my challenges and practise new skills.

The small group setting gives the opportunity to try new ways

itude for the care they receive, often telling me that the way I listen to them has made all the difference.

I have seen many clinicians

many of us out, reconnecting with this deeper way of practising medicine could be the key to rediscovering meaning, purpose and fulfilment in our work.

the immense weight they

carry.

I remember that feeling

acutely— the pressure to make

the right diagnosis, to get

everything right, to check every

symptom, rule out red flags and

follow protocols.

This vigilance invariably

narrows the focus: by chasing

certainty, we can miss seeing

the human being sitting right

in front of us.

It reminds me of something

my brother told me when I

was learning to ride a bike: if

all your focus is on avoiding

obstacles, that is exactly what

you will crash into.

I wish I could write a letter

to my younger GP self and say,

“ Lift your gaze. See the whole

landscape. That is where the

real insight lies.”

I have been a practising GP

for over 30 years, and I have

come to believe our narrow

biomedical training comes at

an enormous cost to us and

our patients.

The way we are taught to

take a medical history often

disconnects us from the very

people we seek to heal.

The most profound work

in medicine is not just in our

questioning, diagnostic tests

and treatments but in truly

hearing our patients.

Very often a patient’ s deepest

concerns are not spoken

outright— they are woven into

pauses, hesitations and what is

left unsaid.

When the fear of missing

something takes over for

the clinician, active listening

becomes secondary.

The patient’ s words are

heard, but their emotions, hesitations

and deeper concerns

may go unnoticed.

Yet, paradoxically, it is

often in these subtler cues—

the things not explicitly said

— that the most important

insights emerge.

The art lies in bringing your

own authenticity to the way

you listen and apply it to your

medical lens.

Deep listening does not

replace medical reasoning— it

integrates with it. When we step

beyond problem-solving mode

into true connection, patients

often give us the diagnosis— if