Physician Support Groups (Sundays) | Peer Support for Doctors →

Physician Peer Support (& Trauma Recovery) (2 pm ET) ~ Join us if you struggle with imposter syndrome, savior complex, catastrophic thinking, gaslighting, retaliation, bullying, betrayal, exhaustion, workaholism, medical mistakes, patient deaths, grief, guilt, anxiety & suicidal thoughts. You do not have to be traumatized to get the support you need. (2 hours). Register here for your Zoom link.

Manipulative Medical Marketing (5 pm ET) ~ Learn marketing tactics used against doctors (& patients) to undermine informed consent, body autonomy, and true healing—so you can use the same tactics ETHICALLY to grow your practice & immunize yourself against future psychological assault. (1 hour). Invitation-only. Contact Dr. Wible to apply.

PHP/Med Board Trauma Recovery (6 pm ET) ~ Have you faced mental health discrimination from your hospital, residency, or med school? Been referred to your state board or forced into a PHP? Get confidential emotional & strategic help from a team of professionals with decades of expertise advocating for physicians. (1.5 hour) Invitation-only. To join, contact Dr. Wible.

Business Mastermind (8 pm ET) ~ Master advanced business strategies for your ideal clinic, coaching, or consulting business (no medical license required). Must be Fast Track grad. (1 hour). Register here.

 ❤️  Confidential groups curated by Dr. Wible @ $97/mo. All healers welcome ❤️

Register now for your confidential Zoom link.

(Session nonrefundable once link shared)

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PMP Fight Club Anthem →

A Public Service Announcement for Physicians

PMP Fight Club Anthem
By Dr. MC No Face

This is a PSA to the DOCs
Don’t you trust in the PMP
This is a PSA to the DOCs
You better not trust in these greedy thieves
Got some feelings that you can’t express?
Thoughts on your mind so you’re sleeping less
Seen everything from life to death
Beat yourself up over every last breath
So you talk to a doc cuz you’re mentally stressed
Promised help from the best of the best
Thinking that you’re going on a healing quest
End up out in the Wild Wild West

This is a PSA to the DOCs
Don’t you trust in the PMP
This is a PSA to the DOCs
You better not trust in these greedy thieves
This is a PSA to the DOCs
Don’t you trust in the PMP
This is a PSA to all the MDs
You better not sign if you wanna be free

They make you go psycho
Gaslight anything you say at arrival
Drain you dry, take yo’ titles
Put you in the ground then repeat the cycle
They don’t care about your health or survival
Cloud your head till you’re suicidal
Sign 5 years to an endless spiral
So they can profit off of your deprival
They claim to help, well you must invest
$500 for a polygraph test
Locked away for 90 days
Pay 100k just to feel depressed
If you disagree with their misdiagnosis
You’ll be punished with more lie detector bogus
Question your judgement and before you notice
They’ll drive you into a psychosis
Say what?
Straight to a psychosis
Psychiatric witch hunt don’t stop there
Even though you’ve never been impaired
They’ll test you for drugs and then declare
False positive results, now you’re in their care
Snatch your license to give you a scare
Human rights blazing a flare
Just when you thought that they wouldn’t dare
Now they’re shaving off your pubic hair!

This is a PSA to the DOCs
Don’t you trust in the PMP
This is a PSA to the DOCs
You better not trust in these greedy thieves
This is a PSA to the DOCs
Don’t you trust in the PMP
This is a PSA to all the MDs
You better not sign if you wanna be free
Don’t you wanna be free?

To join our PMP Fight Club, contact Dr. Wible.

(T-shirts & hats while supplies last)

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Suicide Survivor Prayer Circle →

Suicide Recovery Prayer

On Thanksgiving Eve (11/22), I received this email:

“I wanted to send you an anonymous tip of an internal medicine resident at Lewis Katz Temple University, [name redacted], who recently attempted suicide by overdose. My heart hurts for her and her family. She is currently in the ICU fighting for her life after many years of burnout. Please help.”

I spent days contemplating how best to help the anonymous author (who left no contact information) and also how to help the young physician fighting for her life. I felt such despair that she did not contact my free suicide helpline before she entered the ICU. I wished she would have spoken with me or joined our physician peer support group, or been inspired to live after reading any of the books/articles I’ve written on how to thrive during residency with her heart, soul, and dreams intact. After devoting the last 12 years of my life to doctor suicide prevention, I wondered what else I could do now to help . . .

I decided to host a Sunday Prayer Circle today. As a group of physicians we prayed for her wounded soul. We began with a 10-minute guided meditation Then I dedicated a poem to her recovery.

Prayer Circle Meditation

In deep gratitude this Thanksgiving weekend we come together in our Prayer Circle to share our abundance and appreciation of life. We calm our minds and open our hearts to the immense healing power of love ❤️.We come together as spiritual beings to share our human experience of healing. As wounded healers we connect deeply with the wounds of others as we pray for healing. We open our hearts and souls to allow the limitless healing energy within us to flow toward our wounded sister in medicine. We send our loving energy to embrace our sister as she heals in Philadelphia “The City of Brotherly Love.” May every cell in her body feel our love flowing to her. May she feel enlivened by the life-giving energy we send to her. We trust in the universal spirit of all that is good that our healing energy is delivered. For the good of all and receptivity of all and so may it be ❤️. Thank you.

Physician Suicide Survivor Poem

As the leaves fall
Awaiting your call
Instead an anonymous tip
A doctor suicide
Attempt, still alive
Survived her OD
Internal medicine
A resident

Your melancholy smile
Mysterious private eyes
Your fairytale beauty cries
Humility, scientific curiosity
Exhausted empathy
Overworked perfectionist
Hidden artist tortured
Inside a doctor of medicine
Holding your diploma
A dream come true!
For who?
For validation

Good girl trophy child
Woman with a wild creative side
Deep spirituality, intuition
Your feminine imagination
In captivity during residency
Sleep-deprived, traumatized
By your job to save lives
Now your only job
To save one precious life
Your sprite soul
Enveloped in
Dusty rose
Pixie dust
Pure love

We then shared our thoughts and feelings:

“I can see her in the ICU bed in my Mind’s Eye—I somehow have a gut intuition she will recover.”

“I felt very tearful at the beginning of this, from first seeing the image you created. I feel she must be so exhausted and sad. I felt a lot of relief after we prayed for her. I hope she can somehow feel it too.”

“O God! Refresh and gladden my spirit. Purify my heart. Illumine my power. I lay all my affairs in Thy hand. Thou art my Guide and my Refuge. I will no longer be sorrowful and grieved, I will be a happy and joyful being. O God! I will no longer be full of anxiety, nor will I let trouble harass me. I will not dwell on the unpleasant things of life. O God! Thou art more friend to me than I am to myself. I dedicate myself to Thee, O Lord.”

“At the beginning of the Circle, I received images: hearts, star, talking/writing, book, heart/GI, a young woman being outstanding and going forward in Medicine, it not being what she wanted but family was very proud of her. She ran out of energy.”

“I was hit with an overwhelming rush of tears. I feel that she was overwhelmed and sobbing. I think she didn’t know what to do with the tears and just wanted the crying to stop. I think she felt broken open.”

“May the one who blessed our ancestors, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah, bless and heal the resident who is ill. May the Blessed Holy One be filled with compassion for her health to be restored and her strength to be revived. May God swiftly send her a complete renewal of body and spirit, and let us say, Amen.”

“Are you able to send that beautiful poem to her family?”

“Maybe send it to the ICU doctor there. Perhaps to have someone read it to her. Or some version of it.”

I am publishing our well wishes for her to read when the time is right. Until then we send our love and support to her ethereally.

[Caveat: We can never demand that she receive and/or accept our prayers. Her destiny is determined by the free will of her soul’s sacred journey and must be respected.]

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Trauma Amnesia →


Trauma amnesia is when your brain blocks a trauma (suddenly recalled later). Two example: 1) I called a retired surgeon for details on a surgeon suicide from 20 years ago. After we spoke, he suddenly recalled 6 more doctor suicides; 2)Writing my memoir I suddenly recalled for the first time in 36 years, a summer job I had in college. I interned with a famous forensic pathologist on child homicide cases. Even more shocking—that pathologist was my stepmom (who had dated my mom)! How the heck could I forget that?

Ever wonder what memories are hiding from you in your own brain? Often when we feel safest and life is good—old memories start to surface so that we may finally heal.

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Autopsy of an Assassin: 60 years ago JFK was shot. My stepmom identified his killer. →

Winter break during my first year in college, I was introduced to my new stepmom Linda, a forensic pathologist who specialized in child homicide cases. Her interests may have been too gory for some kids. For me she was never the “wicked” stepmother. She became my loving second mom, my medical mentor—and my hero.

Here’s how I fell in love with her.

(An excerpt from my unpublished memoir)

Arriving at Linda’s house for dinner, we’re greeted by her teen daughters (my new sisters) who guide us through the foyer to the kitchen where I see Linda with a glass of wine.

Linda, a large-boned woman with olive complexion and short dark hair says, “So you must be Pamela. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Just then I hear loud banging and notice Linda’s smacking slabs of raw meat with a spiked wooden hammer. I’ve never seen anyone hit meat in my life. And with such brute force. As a vegetarian, I’m both intrigued and sickened.

Lately I’ve been placing “Warning: DEAD animal in here” stickers on packages of ground beef in grocery stores. Part of a guerilla animal rights campaign. Just a friendly reminder for shoppers who might forget their food had a face and a family.

Why punch a dead animal with a hammer? And who’d want to do such a thing in front of house guests?

“What are you doing?” I ask in a loud voice.

“Tenderizing the steak.” She keeps pounding and pummeling the dead cow. “Got you pasta. I heard you’re vegetarian.”

“Okay, thanks.” I glance away from the scene and see a Betty Crocker cookbook on the counter partially covered by manila folders, one entitled “autopsy.” I wonder if there’s a dead child in there.

“A meat mallet breaks down the connective tissues to produce a tender steak,” Linda explains like a food scientist. “The pyramidal spikes disrupt the fascia and muscle fibers.”

I’m not gonna argue with a forensic pathologist holding a hammer. Maybe she’s had a tough day. Must be processing rage for the child’s killer with that mallet.

To me, Linda’s fascinating and a bit mysterious. She’s the original host of the murder mystery dinner. I can tell she’s mulling over her manila folders while masticating. She’s quirky like my Dad [also a pathologist]. Yet unlike Dad, she’s fearless. And her daughters are cool. Never had younger sisters. After dinner we hang out and play cards, then we’re invited to spend the night. I borrow some pajamas, get comfy, and head upstairs to the bathroom. I see a door ajar. Linda is in bed reading.

“Linda, thanks for dinner. What are you reading?”

“A second-opinion autopsy for a court case.”

Strewn about Linda’s lap are close-up photos of a trailer-park murder—blood-soaked blonde hair on a lady face down on the carpet.

“How can you look at dead people before bed?”

She smiles. “Been doing it a long time.” Winks at me. “Sleep well, Pam. See you in the morning.”

Linda’s tough, seems to be able to handle anything. Kind of reminds me of Dad studying late into the night though he was mostly reading big textbooks and looking at slides, not murder scenes.

In the morning, Linda and her daughters make us pancakes. As I’m dunking a bit of pancake in a dipping bowl of maple syrup, I’m told Linda’s been involved in some high-profile cases—even did the autopsy on Lee Harvey Oswald five years ago to make sure he wasn’t a Russian spy.

“Wow! You cut open the guy who killed JFK? How’d you get that case?”

“I was Dallas County Medical Examiner. Nobody else wanted to do it. I was the only person who hadn’t been sued and had copies of Oswald’s dental records.”

“I want to know everything!” I stop eating for a moment and lean in with absolute focus on every word about to exit her mouth.

“The exhumation turned into an international news carnival. On October 4, 1981, I got up early to be at Rose Hill Cemetery by five. Was met by security guards. Helicopters were flying above as backhoes began digging at 6:30. We unearthed the crumbling casket by eight. Water damage caused the old pine box to cave in at the top so we could see the body in there. We left the cemetery at nine with the hearse.”

“Then what?”

“As Oswald’s hearse headed to Dallas, media assumed the autopsy would be at our medical examiner’s office by Parkland Hospital. More than 300 media surrounded the place like Santa Ana’s troops at the Alamo.” She pauses with a grin. “But we were at Baylor.”

“Ha! You ditched them, huh?”

“Dallas County opposed use of county property for Oswald’s autopsy so we found another site. Meanwhile at the cemetery people were jumping the fence to grab handfuls of dirt dug up by gravediggers, ya know, saving sod as souvenirs. Four-year anniversary of JFK’s assassination, Oswald’s gravestone was even stolen. They had to hire security to keep all the dirt from being dragged off his grave.” Linda stands up, grabs a folder from the livingroom, and hands me Oswald’s autopsy report—my very own copy to keep! While sipping my orange juice, I skim through the details:

“Upon entry into the casket a moderate malodor emanated from the decomposing body. As measured in the casket from superior skull to heel region on the left, a body length of 177 cm (69 1/2 in.) was obtained. A gold wedding band and a red stone ring were removed from the fifth digit of the left hand . . . A relatively intact pair of white with green diamond pattern boxer undershorts were also in position upon the body . . . diameter of the lower extremities was estimated at approximately one-third of the in life circumference. The intact skin upon the distal lower extremities had a friable consistency, was more dry than wet, shriveled, and parchment-like . . . ribs were markedly friable and crumbled with mild pressure. . . The head was removed from the remainder of the body by incision of the mummified soft tissue maintaining the skull . . .”

“So did you know right away it was him? The real Lee Harvey Oswald?”

“Within ten minutes I had the rings, gave them to his widow who was waiting in the next room. She confirmed these were the rings she had placed (by way of the embalmer) on her husband before his coffin was sealed on November 25, 1963. Finding those rings and the mist of mold covering his body, I had proof the remains hadn’t been tampered with. We snipped a wire that clamped his mouth shut for the last eighteen years, and his jaw came right off. Had two forensic odontologists (tooth sleuths) examine dental records that can be as exact as a fingerprint.”

Linda’s daughters get up to wash the dishes. I guess they’ve heard this story before.

“By 2:30 in the afternoon we completed the autopsy. Left Baylor at three and got Oswald back in the ground by four. Just before we departed the hospital, his wife gave me a gift—the red ruby ring. We slipped it back in the box with Oswald and that’s how the whole thing ends.”

Linda taps her TV remote and a pre-recorded videocassette begins to play the Norton Team press conference. Wearing a tan pant suit and gold-rimmed glasses, my new stepmom makes her world debut on international news:

“The findings of the team are as follows: We independently and as a team have concluded beyond any doubt—and I mean beyond any doubt—that the individual buried under the name of Lee Harvey Oswald in Rose Hill Cemetery is, in fact, Lee Harvey Oswald.”

(View video the Linda Norton Team press conference below)

I love this woman. She’s an American hero.

“If there’s a reasonable question that science can resolve, I feel it’s in the public interest to conduct the exhumation.”

“Did you ever think you’d find the Russian spy in Oswald’s coffin?”

“Pam, if I thought for a minute we’d find another body, or no body, I wouldn’t have taken the assignment. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in congressional hearings. It’s hard to make a living that way.”

Linda went to a place no woman had dared go before—her hands inside the most infamous killer in modern US history. Amid conspiracy theories and bad publicity no physician wanted to touch Oswald’s case, his body, or even think of wearing his ruby red ring. Yet so many seemed obsessed with revisiting every detail of the day JFK died.

* * *

I spent the summer after my first year of college as her “intern” assisting Linda with child homicide cases. When I got back to college for my sophomore year, she mailed me this letter:

“Dear Pam, Just thought I’d take time between exhumations to write you a note. If this disinterment business and re-exam of autopsied bodies continues I won’t have time to do anything else. Perhaps it’s just a fad that will pass but then there isn’t a lot of competition out there for this type of work. ‘Tis a shame you’re not closer to finishing all your training—I’m going to need a good forensic pathologist partner soon and you definitely have the sick, warped and perverted mind that it takes to be great in this field. Lord what a team we’ll make. What happened with the calculus deal? Be sure to keep me posted. Don’t hesitate to call collect any time you just feel like talking. Love ya, Linda”

I never became her forensic pathologist partner, though I credit Linda with much of my professional success. She continues to be a role model for me as an entrepreneurial woman physician who always spoke the truth and never feared controversy.

Pamela Wible, M.D., is a family physician who has devoted herself to doctor suicide prevention. She runs a doctor suicide helpline, maintains a registry of doctor suicides, and offers weekly peer support groups for traumatized physicians.

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