“The value of intuition in clinical practice” prompted me to reflect on one of the deeper regrets I carry from my clinical practice—those moments when I didn’t fully acknowledge or act upon a parent’s intuition, often a mother’s, that something was wrong with their child.

As clinicians, we are trained to listen for clinical “buzz words”—specific complaints or symptom patterns that guide our diagnostic reasoning. These cues form the backbone of our workups and plan of care. Certain symptoms trigger standard evaluations, while others—”red flag” complaints—demand immediate and often urgent investigation. For example, vomiting with green (bilious) content in a neonate triggers a surgical rule-out for intestinal obstruction. These are patterns we are conditioned not to ignore.

But what happens when a parent brings in a child with vague or non-specific symptoms, yet insists that something is not right? What do we do when there are no clear red flags, no measurable abnormalities—but a strong, unshakable sense from a caregiver that something serious is brewing?

This is where the art of medicine becomes more nuanced.

In these moments, we face a challenge: Balancing objective findings with the subjective weight of a parent’s intuition. The tension lies not just in clinical uncertainty but in how we affirm the emotional and psychological presence of the parent. It’s not only about diagnosing disease—it’s about helping someone feel seen, heard, and believed.

Over the years, I’ve learned to attune myself to what I call the “sixth sense red flag”—the subtle, often wordless indicators that something deeper might be happening. This includes the parent’s gut feeling, and sometimes, even my own quiet inner knowing. I now try to hold space for both: the science, and the sense.

The article in The Lancet beautifully captures this. It emphasizes that intuition, while not infallible, is a form of pattern recognition shaped by experience, observation, and often unconscious synthesis. It may not be teachable in the traditional sense, but it is certainly cultivatable.

This leads to some essential questions:

• Can we train medical students and residents to respect and refine their intuition without compromising evidence-based care?
• How do we create a culture where both parents and clinicians feel safe acknowledging the unspoken?
• What practices help us stay connected to our inner wisdom amid the noise of metrics and protocols?

As a profession, we tend to devalue what we can’t measure. But maybe intuition isn’t unscientific—it’s just not quantifiable yet.

If we can honor it as one of many tools in our diagnostic arsenal, we may not only avoid missed diagnoses—we may also deepen the human connection at the heart of healing.

Have you had moments when your intuition—or your patient’s—proved right? I’d love to hear your stories.

Tokunbo Akande is a pediatrician and clinical informaticist.