It’s hard, sometimes, to put into words the constant turmoil of being a junior doctor. What I feel is a jumble of inaudible noise and frustration, yet the only way for me to translate it is to lay it out orderly, word after word, sentence by sentence because:
doesn’t make any sense. Maybe that’s why people prefer visuals, a picture speaks a thousand words. But what about video?
I sat down to watch Confessions of a Junior Doctor.
I was 5 minutes in to the first episode and I had to stop watching. It’s the beginning of August and it’s the F1s’ first week as doctors. Their wide-eyed enthusiasm is difficult to watch. I wonder if I looked like that, so optimistic and clueless. It was almost like looking back at myself, several months ago.
I kept pausing the programme at moments that touched a nerve. One of that being Sam, an F2. He said he didn’t have time to speak to each patient for 20 minutes, because there were so many others to see. Pause: I’ve been there. Seeing someone say my thoughts back to me behind a screen is a weird sensation. There have been times where a patient has caught me after the ward round and inquired about their management plan and I almost want to hit myself. The fact that they actually need to ask means I’ve not done my job properly. It pains me to try to squeeze enough patients before 12. It’s a difficult ordeal.
The same doctor, Sam, decides not to apply for training in the UK and he followed with “I want what anybody wants. I want to be able to do the job that I’m trained to do. I want to be respected,” he pauses, “I want to be happy.” Sometimes I feel so guilty for even thinking about my happiness but when your job forms such a big part of your waking hours, shouldn’t happiness be a part of it? Can I truly be happy and still leave the ward with a heavy heart?
If you haven’t seen it yet, I’d recommend giving it a watch.