Doctors Don’t Ask For Help - But We Should

Dr. Andrew Pfeffer, one of my amazing former adult emergency medicine colleagues, used to teach his learners about "loading the boat." Sick patient coming in? You’ve got to load your boat—get everyone you’ll need on board ASAP. I never worked with him clinically, but I heard about "load the boat" from medical students and residents who rotated with him.

I never knew its origin, but from context, I gathered it meant an "all hands on deck" approach. For whatever reason, the phrase lingered in my mind. I once googled it, assuming it might be a "Pfeffer-ism," but it turns out it’s an actual term. According to the academic rigor of Urban Dictionary, "load the boat" means "to recruit a large number of people towards your cause." Example: "If we’re gonna get Karen fired, we’re gonna have to ask everyone in the department to document her recent behavior—you know, load the boat."

At its core, loading the boat is about asking for help. And let’s be honest—physicians are notoriously bad at that. Sure, we ask for consults, mentoring, and shift swaps. But those are framed as professional tasks, not personal vulnerability. Seen through a different lens, though, these are all forms of asking for help: "I have no idea what this patient’s lungs are doing," "I’m confused about my career," and "Crap, I double-scheduled myself on my kid’s recital night," respectively. When we ask for a consult, we see it as a decisive action. When we admit we’re struggling, it feels like weakness.

Recently, I got some legit "load the boat" news. The kind that was so terrifying and unexpected, it bypassed my usual overthinking. And let me tell you—I am a champion overthinker. I can’t remember the last time something was urgent enough to slice through that tendency. Suddenly, wasted time was wasted opportunity. There was no room to worry about seeming rude, needy, alarmist, or fragile. I was out of my depth, and I needed help. Now.

So, I swallowed my pride and sent: "Hi! I hope you’re well, and I’m sorry we haven’t talked in ages. I’m so sorry to ask you this, but…" texts. I took the generous guidance from those messages and used it to send cold emails: "Hello, my name is Jessie, and I’m a pediatric intensivist. I got your information from…, and I deeply hope you’ll consider…" From those total strangers, I got more generosity—more kindness, more guidance, more problem-solving. And suddenly, asking for help didn’t feel like a failing. It felt like a lifeline, like people grabbing my arms and pulling me up for air just as I was at risk of drowning.

Why do we hold ourselves to this ridiculous double standard—glad to help others, yet embarrassed to ask for help ourselves? There are 8.062 billion people on Earth. The thought, "Everyone in the world deserves help, except me" is, frankly, absurd. My SOS was met with nothing but patience, support, and rock-solid problem-solving.

Don’t wait for life-changing news to let yourself ask for help. When that little judgey voice creeps in, whispering that you’re weak, shut it down. You’re not weak.

You’re loading your boat.