How the Grinch Stole Healthcare—and How We Can Get It Back

If the Grinch from Dr. Seuss’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas turned his attention to healthcare, how would he steal it? He wouldn’t creep into hospitals and clinics to grab stethoscopes or wheel away IV pumps. No, this Grinch would aim for something much deeper—he’d steal the heart of healthcare itself.

And, like the Whos of Whoville waking up on Christmas morning to find their trees, ornaments, and gifts gone, we’d be left devastated, staring at the empty spaces where meaning and purpose used to be.

This is exactly what the Grinch is doing to healthcare. Slowly, systematically, he’s robbing us of what healthcare is really about: caring, connection, and trust. Worse, he’s tricking us into believing that what we really need to fix the void he’s left behind is more. More presents. More bells and whistles. More lights, more money, more technology, more metrics, more everything. And in our desperation to fill the void, we fall for his deception.

But here’s the truth: no amount of “more” will ever bring back what the Grinch has taken. Just as the Whos in Whoville had to learn that Christmas wasn’t about the presents or the feast, we have to remember that healthcare isn’t about the dollars, the gadgets, or the shiny new toys. It’s about the heart—the deep, human connection that no Grinch can truly take away unless we let him.

The Grinch’s Plan to Steal Healthcare

The Grinch is clever. He doesn’t come with a sack and a sleigh; he comes with spreadsheets, RVUs, and efficiency algorithms. He whispers in our ears, convincing us that healthcare is broken because we don’t have enough.

He tells us:

• “Healthcare needs more RVUs.” Because clearly, the measure of good care is how many boxes you check, not the lives you touch.
• “You just need more technology.” Forget the patient in front of you—let’s focus on the latest AI tools, the sleek new interface, the dashboards with endless rows of data.
• “It’s all about the money.” Bigger facility fees, higher salaries, more revenue streams—surely, these will solve all our problems.
• “Efficiency is the answer.” The faster we work, the better the outcomes, right? Never mind that speeding through patients often leaves little room for empathy.
• “We just need more ‘stuff.’” New machines, new systems, new buzzwords. Maybe if we pile up enough, we can paper over what’s really missing.

And, like the Whos on Christmas morning, we wake up to find something vital has been stolen. Except instead of presents and trees, we’ve lost something far more precious: the heart of why we chose to work in healthcare. The Grinch has taken our connection to our patients, to one another, and even to ourselves.

The Whos’ Devastation—and Ours

In Dr. Seuss’s story, the Whos initially have to seem defeated. When they see their empty living rooms, their bare trees, and their missing presents, there has to be a moment of devastation. After all, they’ve been tricked into believing that Christmas was about stuff. And for a moment, the Grinch feels victorious.

That’s where many of us are in healthcare today. We’re staring at the emptiness left by burnout, exhaustion, and the relentless pressure to do more, produce more, be more. The Grinch has taken our joy, our trust, and our sense of purpose.

We feel like the Whos must have felt—disheartened, depleted, and disillusioned. It’s easy to wonder if the heart of healthcare is gone for good.

But here’s the thing about the Whos: they didn’t stay defeated. They looked past the empty spaces and realized something profound. Christmas wasn’t about the gifts, the decorations, or the roast beast—it was about their connection to one another. They didn’t need the “more” that the Grinch had stolen. The spirit of Christmas was still within them, waiting to be reclaimed.

And the same is true for us in healthcare.

Reclaiming Healthcare’s Heart

If we want to take healthcare back from the Grinch, we need to stop falling for his lies. We need to realize that the answer isn’t more money, more technology, or more efficiency. The answer is in remembering what healthcare is truly about—and letting that guide us forward.

1. Caring, Not Counting: The Grinch wants us to believe that healthcare is about RVUs, productivity, and metrics. But the real magic of what we do can’t be measured in a spreadsheet. It’s in the moments of human connection—the hand held during a scary diagnosis, the extra time spent answering a worried parent’s questions, the smile that says, “I see you. I’m here.”
2. Connection, Not Competition: The Grinch thrives when we’re too busy to connect—with our patients, our colleagues, or even ourselves. Let’s reject the idea that speed and volume are more important than relationships. Let’s make space for the conversations that build trust and the teamwork that makes us stronger.
3. Meaning, Not More: The Grinch wants us to chase shiny new tools and bigger paychecks, thinking they’ll fix everything. But no gadget, no facility fee, no paycheck will ever replace the deep fulfillment that comes from knowing we’ve made a difference. Let’s remember that healthcare is about purpose, not profit.
4. Healing, Not Hustling: Efficiency is important, but it can’t come at the expense of empathy. Let’s slow down enough to truly see our patients—not as numbers, but as people. Let’s also take the time to care for ourselves, because we can’t pour from an empty cup.

Letting Our Hearts Grow Three Sizes

At the end of Dr. Seuss’s story, the Grinch’s heart grows three sizes when he sees the Whos celebrating despite everything he’s stolen. Their resilience—their refusal to let him define their joy—reminds him of what really matters.

In healthcare, our own hearts can grow, too—not because we’ve fixed every systemic issue or solved every problem, but because we’ve reconnected with our purpose. Healthcare isn’t about the trappings or the to-do lists. It’s about kindness, trust, and the profound privilege of caring for others.

This holiday season, let’s reclaim the heart of healthcare. Let’s remind ourselves—and each other—that no Grinch can ever truly steal what’s most important. And as we do, maybe, just maybe, our burnout will shrink, our joy will return, and the heart of healthcare will beat stronger than ever.