Dr G was shattered.

“Is this what I worked so hard for, all these years?”

A patient he had treated for five long years had just passed away. The reason? A relapse, followed by an infection. Despite every effort, the inevitable had happened. But instead of grief turning inward, the family turned their pain outward—targeting him.

A few angry words typed into a Google review. A WhatsApp message forwarded. A Facebook post. And just like that, years of trust crumbled in a moment.

Welcome to the era of public judgement—ruled by Google reviews, Instagram stories, WhatsApp broadcasts and a thousand faceless comment threads. People are glued to screens, scrolling endlessly, searching for outrage. We live in an age of negativity bias—the psychological pull toward bad news, scandals and blame.

The mindset? “I’m suffering—let me find others who suffer too. Let me punish the one I believe caused it.” “I’m sick, so I’ll blame the doctor.” “I’m broke, so I’ll shame the wealthy.” “I failed, so I’ll mock the failing team.”

What’s happening to us?

The medical profession—once revered—now faces mistrust, suspicion, and at times, aggression. Society demands the best treatment, at the lowest cost, with no errors, and guaranteed cures. But no one wants to speak about the truth we all know deep down—that we are mortal, and death is part of life.

Dr B once shared a story.

A patient with stage 4 lung cancer, clearly at the end of his journey, was shifted to a small local hospital to reduce costs and allow family members to be close—just like the old days. He was singing, despite low oxygen levels. Then, the oxygen cylinder ran out. By the time a replacement arrived, he was gone.

The response? Verbal abuse. Physical assault. And of course, a storm of social media posts.

That’s the power—and danger—of today’s platforms. Social media has turned into a performance stage. Travel to post pictures. Dine to upload reels. Even grief and outrage are broadcast—for likes, for shares, for attention.

We are becoming emotionally unintelligent. Harsh words? Maybe. But look around—people honk in traffic and get into accidents. Drivers argue, get stabbed. Children harm parents. What changed?

We stopped responding and started reacting.

Reacting is immediate, emotional, thoughtless. Responding takes reflection, space and maturity.

And where is this impulsiveness most visible? In the comment boxes.

Scroll through the comments under any news post. The hatred, polarisation and obscenity are shocking. Even a friend’s political article can tempt us into an angry reply, fingers itching to “correct” them with a link or a quote. We are being trained to react, not think.

Does this mean we should stay silent in the face of medical negligence? Absolutely not. But before you lash out online—pause. Breathe. Think. Respond. Let that be our mantra.

And in cancer care? The stakes are even higher.

Dr Z was explaining treatment options to a newly diagnosed breast cancer patient. The discussion was clear, data-backed and hopeful. But the next day, the patient announced she would discontinue treatment—someone had forwarded her a WhatsApp message about a “natural cure.”

Dr Z tried her best to explain. Even shared YouTube videos. But the patient wasn’t convinced. Why?

Because the “traditional healer” said, “You will be cured.” And the doctor? He spoke in probabilities. In percentages.

The truth is—in a world that craves convenience, certainty sells. And unfortunately, trust in doctors is at an all-time low. We’re often viewed not as healers, but as agents of pharma. The damage is real.

So what do we do? Should we give up? Should we change how we speak?

No. But we must adapt.

We must learn to communicate better—with clarity, compassion and conviction. We must use the same platforms that spread misinformation to dispel myths, fight stigma, and offer truth. Not to go viral. Not for likes. But because our silence will be filled by someone else’s noise.

And there is still hope. Many patients still stand with us, fight with us, and walk the journey bravely. But we live in a fragile society. And fragility demands care.

In the end, our goal is not popularity. Our mission is truth. To inform. To support. To heal.

Even in the noisy world of social media!