Doctors die by suicide at twice the rate of everyone else. Here’s what we can do.

One Monday about a year ago, I walked down the hall of our clinic to ask my colleague’s advice about a patient. I often sought his guidance over the years.

A grandfatherly figure, Elisha Atkins — we called him “Skip” — loved examining puzzling rashes, talking to patients in their native language (he spoke several) and thinking out loud through a complex medical decision. Skip would always ask for follow-up weeks later. His patients loved that he remembered the names of their family members, and when we would go out to eat in the neighborhood, I was usually late for my afternoon patients because he stopped to say hi to everyone we passed.