Takeaway
In his relationships with everyone, Theo listens more than he speaks, asks curious questions, and is authentically respectful. If we in healthcare emulate Theo a little more purposefully, the care that we provide will be more humanizing.
Connecting with patients | August 31, 2026 | 2 min read
By Scott Wright, MD, Johns Hopkins Medicine
I read a lot of books, and I like most of them—perhaps attributable to thoughtful selection criteria. “Theo of Golden” was different—I didn’t like it—I loved it; I can’t stop thinking about the story and ways that I can be more like Theo. He inspired me not only to be a better person, but also to do better as a clinician—especially with respect to connecting more meaningfully with others.
Five themes or lessons from this book may be useful for all healthcare professionals and trainees who want to offer more compassionate care. The ideas below are framed as interpretive reflections that can be translated to clinical practice.
1. Small acts of attention can matter deeply.
A central feeling in the book is that “ordinary” kindness is never really ordinary to the person receiving it. Quiet gestures, patient listening, and simple presence can matter deeply. For doctors, this is a reminder that humanized care is often built in small moments rather than grand interventions. A few extra seconds of attention can change how safe and seen a patient feels.
2. People are more than the roles they play.
The novel repeatedly reveals that a person’s outward identity doesn’t come close to fully capturing their inner life, history, or complexity. A patient can never be thought of as just a diagnosis, a bed number, or a “difficult case.” In medicine, this of course means that it’s imperative to resist any inclination to reduce people to their charts or symptoms. Seeing and appreciating the whole person improves both trust and our ability to care for them.
3. Connection often begins with curiosity.
“Theo of Golden” emphasizes the importance of noticing people carefully and being genuinely interested in them. Curiosity opens the door to understanding, while assumptions tend to close it. For physicians, this means asking questions that invite the patient’s story, not just their medical concerns. Curiosity can reveal worries, values, and goals that matter as much as the medical facts.
4. Meaning can be present even in difficult circumstances.
The characters in this book repeatedly demonstrate that life’s hardships don’t erase dignity, beauty, or purpose. That idea is especially relevant in medicine, where patients may be facing pain, illness, loss, or uncertainty. Healthcare professionals often can’t fix the problem, but we can help to preserve meaning by acknowledging suffering and honoring what matters most to the patient.
5. Healing is relational—usually much more than it’s technical.
One of the strongest lessons is that healing is shaped by relationship, trust, and care, not just by expertise. Technical skill is essential, but it’s certainly not the entirety of good medicine. Patients often remember how they were treated long after they forget the details of a test or treatment plan. The book’s spirit suggests that doctors heal best when they combine competence with warmth, humility, and respect.
Please read this book. Trust me—you’ll laugh, cry, and wish it didn’t end. In one of my roles at Hopkins, I co-direct our Center for Humanizing Medicine. After reading this book, my interpretation of the vision for our Center has become clearer—“Be Like Theo.”
This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.