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Posted in Keikku Blog

Clinical AI

The Expectations of Medicine

There is an arithmetic that lives in every clinician-patient encounter, and we never talk about it.

By Jhonatan Bringas Dimitriades, MD and Diana van Stijn, MD PhD

There is an arithmetic that lives in every clinician-patient encounter, and we never talk about it.

This arithmetic starts with obligations and ends in expectations. For example, the amount a doctor is expected to know has grown beyond anything a human mind can hold. In 1950, medical knowledge was estimated to double roughly every fifty years. A physician could train, practice, and retire having seen the field change only once. By 2010 the doubling time was down to around three and a half years. A widely cited 2011 analysis projected that by 2020 it would fall to roughly seventy-three days. Whatever the exact figure today, the direction is not in question. The body of knowledge a clinician is responsible for now renews faster than any person can read, let alone absorb.

And it is not only that there is more to know. What was correct becomes wrong. Peptic ulcers were treated with surgery and antacids in the 1970s, until we learned they were largely an infection and the treatment became antibiotics. Multiply that by every field, every guideline, every drug, and you begin to see the real weight on the clinician's shoulders. They are asked not just to learn an impossible amount, but to continuously unlearn and relearn it, even as the clinical workload grows and the time with each patient shrinks.

The expectations grew, the room to meet them shrank

If the knowledge had exploded but everything else had stayed still, it might be survivable. Instead the opposite happened. The time with each patient contracted. Appointments got shorter and got double-booked. Referral pathways, once a release valve, are now so congested that sending a patient onward can mean waiting months, so more of the diagnostic weight stays with the clinician in the room, who is expected to sort it out now, quickly, correctly.

So the expectation is superhuman on both axes at once. Know an impossible and constantly changing amount. Decide faster than ever, with less time, less support, and a patient who cannot easily be passed along. This is not a failure of individual clinicians. It is a structural gap between what is asked and what any human being can do in the minutes they are given.

Distrust is rising

The same inflation of expectations that makes the job impossible also breeds distrust. Because the standard has been set beyond the humanly achievable, any gap between the ideal and the real gets read not as the inevitable result of an impossible ask, but as a shortcoming of the clinician. The environment is becoming less favorable to clinicians.

Even amid this distrust, clinicians usually expect from themselves what they always have: to deliver the highest quality of care to their patients. This brings them, quite often, to an impossible position. Hold a superhuman standard, in shrinking time, and perform without ever showing a human limitation.

Reaching for help might be seen as a lack of knowledge

Regardless of the might of a clinician, knowledge cannot be contained in one mind, and searching to bridge the gaps can be confused with ignorance. The truth is that physicians, like any other professional, need to obtain complementing knowledge now and then, to deliver high quality diagnoses and plans.

The issue is that looking something up in front of a patient could read as not knowing. Worse still if the looking takes time, or happens on platforms such as Google. So clinicians are pushed toward the worst of both worlds: decide fast and alone, but do not be seen needing support.

Here is the paradox. Consulting the evidence at the moment of decision has never been a confession of ignorance. It is what good medicine looks like under complexity. The best clinicians have always checked, always questioned, always been willing to look. The problem is that it has been a lengthy process, one that can be awkward, separated from the encounter, and sometimes misunderstood by the patient.

Understanding our own limitations is a signal of brightness, and that understanding is exactly what drives clinicians to seek knowledge. They are able to recognize the edge of what they know, and that recognition enables them to reach past it to be sure. This is strength, not weakness. It is the discipline that keeps patients safe. The real danger was never the clinician who looks. It is the one who does not.

A new opportunity for clinicians

Here is the hopeful part, and it is real.

None of this is a law of nature. The impossible position was built, which means it can be rebuilt, and the tools arriving now are the first that can genuinely stand with the clinician rather than over them.

Imagine support that does not expose the clinician but protects them. Evidence that arrives at the point of decision, already aware of the patient in the room, grounded in real sources and cited, so it can be trusted and defended rather than second-guessed. Fast enough that it costs no time. Integrated enough that using it is not a visible act of stepping away, but a natural part of the encounter. Not a search that signals doubt, but a colleague at your shoulder who happens to have read everything published this morning.

That changes the emotional reality of the job, not just the workflow. It gives back the two things the system took: the ability to be certain and to be present at the same time, and the sense that when you reach for help, something reaches back to support you rather than to catch you out.

This is the principle behind Keikku's Reference. Evidence that lives inside the encounter, aware of the clinical context, grounded and cited, arriving at the speed of the decision. Not another system watching the clinician, but one that has their back.

The position clinicians are in is impossible because it was built to be, by an accumulation of pressures no one designed on purpose and no one has taken responsibility for undoing. But it can be undone. The knowledge will keep growing faster than any of us can follow. The answer is not to ask clinicians to be more superhuman. It is to finally give them tools that close the gap and take their side. That is the way out, and for the first time, it is genuinely within reach.