When TikTok Becomes the Doctor's Office
- Brainz Magazine
- 5 days ago
- 6 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
Anne M. Hirsch, M.D. is an internal medicine specialist, physician coach, and medical coding expert. Her coaching expertise centers around medical communication. Her Medical Communication Mastery program helps physicians learn how to communicate effectively to improve patient outcomes and decrease physician burnout.
Several months ago, I saw a 23-year-old woman who was convinced she was dying from mold poisoning. She'd watched maybe a dozen TikTok videos about "toxic mold syndrome" and came in demanding antifungal medication. Her blood work was completely normal, but she'd already ordered $300 worth of supplements online and was considering moving out of her apartment. She had printed screenshots from her phone to show me "proof" of her condition, complete with before-and-after photos from strangers on the internet.
This is no longer an isolated case. Almost every week, I'm dealing with patients who've gotten their medical information from social media influencers, some wearing scrubs, some not. Still, all are speaking with absolute certainty about pretty complicated things. Just last week, I had three separate patients ask about "adrenal fatigue," a condition that isn't recognized by mainstream medicine but has exploded on social media platforms.
The new reality of patient education
TikTok now has over a billion users, and health content is prevalent throughout the platform. Some of it's good, real doctors are making genuinely helpful videos. But there's also a ton of garbage mixed in, and honestly, the garbage often gets more views because it's more dramatic. The platform's short-form video format seems particularly suited to oversimplified medical advice, where complex conditions get reduced to catchy soundbites and trending hashtags.
I've seen studies showing that nearly half of ADHD-related TikToks contain misleading information, and only about one in five come from healthcare professionals.
The dermatology content isn't much better, most popular videos fail to meet basic quality standards for medical information. Meanwhile, videos promoting unproven treatments or misrepresenting symptoms can rack up millions of views before anyone with actual medical training can provide context.
The problem isn't just that bad information exists; it's also that it persists. It's that the algorithm rewards the most engaging content, not the most accurate. A video titled "This one trick cured my anxiety!" is going to get way more views than something explaining the nuanced reality of anxiety treatment. The algorithm doesn't distinguish between a licensed psychiatrist explaining treatment options and someone sharing their anecdote about avoiding medication.
Why this matters
Look, I get it. It's easy to get frustrated when a patient comes in asking about some miracle cure they saw online. But this stuff has real consequences:
Patients are delaying actual treatment while they try whatever they saw on their feed. I've had people refuse antibiotics for serious infections because someone on TikTok told them antibiotics are "toxic." Others come in way later than they should have because they were trying to treat themselves first. One patient with a clear case of strep throat had spent two weeks trying various "natural remedies" she'd found online before finally seeking proper treatment.
There's also this trust issue that's developing. When I tell someone something different from what their favorite health influencer said, they sometimes believe the influencer over me. That's not great. I've had patients question established medical procedures because an influencer with no medical training suggested they were unnecessary or even harmful. It creates an awkward dynamic where I'm competing with someone who has no medical education but speaks with unwavering confidence.
And honestly? It's exhausting. I'm spending more time in appointments debunking myths than actually practicing medicine. A survey conducted last year found that three-quarters of doctors are dealing with social media misinformation every week. Some days, half of my appointments are spent addressing concerns that originated from a 30-second video rather than focusing on actual health issues.
The doctors fighting back
The good news is that some physicians are becoming increasingly savvy about this. They're going where their patients are and making content that competes with the nonsense. These medical professionals understand that if they don't occupy this space, someone else will, and that someone else might not have any medical training at all.
Dr. Austin Chiang is a gastroenterologist who has 500,000 TikTok followers. He creates these informative and entertaining videos that debunk common gut health myths. Dr. Jennifer Lincoln, an OB/GYN, does the same thing with reproductive health misinformation. Both have found ways to make evidence-based medicine engaging without sacrificing accuracy.
What I've noticed about the doctors who are successful on these platforms is that they understand the medium. They're not just lecturing, they're telling stories, using humor, and being relatable. They get that you have to earn people's attention before you can educate them. They also seem to understand that addressing misinformation isn't just about providing correct information; it's about understanding why the misinformation was initially appealing.
As Dr. Lincoln put it in an interview I read recently: "If we're not part of the conversation, we leave it to people who are unqualified to lead it." That stuck with me. The medical community can't afford to cede this territory entirely to non-medical voices, no matter how well-intentioned they might be.
What we can do (without becoming TikTok stars)
Not all of us are going to become content creators, and that's fine. But there are things we can do:
When patients mention something they saw online, I try not to dismiss it immediately. Instead, I ask where they heard it. Understanding their information ecosystem helps me respond better.
I've started using this "yes, and" approach. Like, "Yes, mold exposure can be a health concern, and let's look at what the actual evidence shows about your situation." It validates their worry while redirecting to facts.
I also stay aware of what's trending on health TikTok. Some newsletters track this stuff, and some physician TikTokers I follow help me understand what patients might be seeing.
The most significant aspect, however, is building trust. When patients feel like I'm listening to them and taking their concerns seriously, they're more likely to come to me with questions rather than just believing what they see online.
Where we go from here
We can no longer pretend that patient education only occurs in our offices. TikTok is a parallel healthcare system now, one with no oversight, no follow-up, and no accountability.
Ignoring this reality won't make it go away. However, if we can learn to work with it, whether that means creating our own content, improving our ability to address misinformation, or simply communicating more effectively, we have a chance to rebuild some of the trust that has been eroded.
The algorithm might be loud, but we can still be the voices our patients trust. We just have to meet them where they are.
Read more from Anne M. Hirsch, MD, FACP
Anne M. Hirsch, MD, FACP, Certified Physician Coach
Anne M. Hirsch, MD, FACP is a physician coach who specializes in medical communication. Her work chairing her local hospital's Peer Review Committee has provided her with significant insight into how physicians communicate, particularly when they do so poorly. Her mission is to help other physicians master communication in a medical setting to improve patient outcomes and enhance the physician experience.
References:
