I’m halfway through my last placement as an F1 and I’m literally counting down the days to the end of July when I go away for a family holiday. It’s also really close to when we swap over, so coincidentally I’m also counting down the days till I never have to do surgery again.

I know surgery isn’t for me. I knew it halfway through medical school after a brief stint on the general surgical ward. I’m not keen to go to theatre. I’m not keen to stitch. I don’t really like seeing organs spilling out of the cavities they belong in. It just doesn’t stir any interest in me whatsoever.

The 2 year foundation programme should have a good balance of the different specialties which means there definitely should be a surgical rotation in there somewhere. Lucky for me, I got two. I’ve already completed one rotation so this is my last one. (!). I’m not very keen on my current surgical rotation. It’s a whole host of issues. Plus, the way F1s are treated on surgery is far from fun. Imagine a garbage truck at a landfill. We’re the landfill.

Surgery is very top heavy, so all the decisions come from up top. Daily consultant led ward rounds (which is good). In comparison to my first placement when it was a team of 4 junior doctors, we often had to lead our own rounds. I resented this in the beginning but now I’ve come to appreciate it. It meant I knew each patient, I knew their history and I knew where we were heading. I felt comfortable having discussions with patients and their relatives. It felt cohesive. The patients felt like my patients. I was making decisions and acting on them. Whilst on surgery, I don’t feel that same familiarity. The ward rounds happen so fast, it’s a bonus if I can catch a glimpse of the patient in front of me because I’m rigorously trying to scribble down as fast as I can.

I don’t ever fully know what’s going on with each individual patient. And the turnover is so fast, people become bed numbers because it’s so hard to keep up with who’s coming and going. I can’t confidently tell you what the plan is for everyone because honestly I can’t remember. The ward round is a blur. I pray that I’ve made a good list on my sheet or else it’s anyone’s guess what’s happening.

The moment the round is finished everyone disappears. It’s just me and my flimsy sheet of paper trying to figure out what the jobs are for each patient. There is another F1, but the rota is so choc block full of on calls that we hardly see each other. Honestly, I think the CT (core trainee) should be helping with the jobs, but surgeons don’t want to be on the ward, they want to be in theatre. So, all the menial tasks get dumped on the F1 (hence landfill). This is my experience anyway. Some of the other teams have more conscientious CTs who help. I can understand that they need to put the hours in and fulfil their requirements for their ARCP like we do. I get that. But they’re still junior members of the team and should be helping out on the ward. When the rota gap happened and left the team with no F1s, I was surprised the telling off I got. (Even though it wasn’t my fault). I had foolishly believed the CT would be able to do his bit and hold down the ward jobs. Obviously not. It seems the team can cope without a CT (and a registrar at the same time) but not without a F1. If all the F1s decided not to come in, surgery would crumble and just cease to move. You would think that would make us valued members of the team.

This isn’t to say that I can’t work on my own because I can. But so often I’m being spread thin across several wards. The bleeps go off constantly (guaranteed twice during lunch). Nurse A is calling from ward 1 and needs a discharge summary done (urgently), Nurse B is calling from Ward 2 because a patient’s blood pressure is 100/70 (yes, they feel fine), Nurse C is calling from Ward 3 because some fluids need prescribing (urgently). Nurse A wants to know how long for the discharge letter.

It gets to the point sometimes when I look forward to being on call just so I can escape that shrill call of my bleep and the person on the end who needs something done. And of course, it needs to be done A.S.A.P.

*core surgical trainees (CT): have completed the two year foundation programme (F1, F2) and are on a 2 year surgical training programme.

Continue Reading

Saying No

I feel uncomfortable saying no to people. Blame it on the people pleasing child in me. The one that wants to keep other people happy whatever the cost. The one who hasn’t grown enough self-esteem to just say no, simply and plainly.

My consultant wants me to do an audit. She mentioned it and in a roundabout way, I let her know that I didn’t think I would be able to. I hadn’t even completed the audit from my previous placement. She mentioned it again 5 minutes later and explained the project a bit more. At this point I could feel the pressure. Now my consultant is super nice and it’s the niceness that makes it even harder to say no.

Who am I kidding? I just don’t like saying no, particularly to someone above me, like my supervisor. I feel like by saying no, I might rile them and turn them against me.

I’ve been learning a few tough lessons over the course of the last few months. I thought I was a smart individual, but it seems like I have to go through the same type of situation over and over again before I learn my lesson. And each time I fail to learn, the lessons become harder and the consequences harsher.

I can see it now: I’ll take on this project, I’ll end up staying late multiple times after my shift to complete it, it’ll end up being subpar, I’ll be grumpy and unhappy and subconsciously take it out on everyone else.

I just need to be honest with myself and clearly let her know that I cannot. Already, I feel like I’ve got a lot on my plate, I honestly don’t think I could cope with the additional pressure of something else. Any spare energy I have, I want to spend it on me. I already give a lot of my energy to this job. And I don’t even like doing audits. GP audits are easier to do because everything is computerised, there won’t be any wading through pages and pages of notes trying to decipher handwriting. I just don’t want to.

Obviously, she doesn’t need to know all of that. But I should just be honest.

Continue Reading

Rota Gap

My surgical team consists of consultants, a registrar, a core trainee (CT) and a couple of foundation doctors. Because of the varying on call rotas, we aren’t all on at the same time. Like any rota, if there’s bad coordination then it may cause a rota gap, where there isn’t a sufficient number to cover the ward. This was Week 4 and it was already happening. To make matters worse, it felt like it was my responsibility to fix it.

Why was it my responsibility? I didn’t understand it either. It seems it was on me to find someone else to fill the gap. Which I’d tried to do. I’d asked other F1s, multiple times, whether they would be willing to cross cover for at least one of those days: and I got subpar responses. How hard should I have pushed? If someone said no, what else could I say? I didn’t feel it was my place to coerce people. It wasn’t an easy position to be in. I ended up feeling really sorry for me, in dramatic fashion silently screaming ‘why is it always me?’

What made it worse was getting flack from the core trainee and then by the registrar which I didn’t appreciate. (At this point it was just me as the other foundation doctor was now on zero days, so I was the only visible one if that makes sense). The rotas are online. You can see your own rota and everyone else’s on the surgical firm. So, I really didn’t appreciate the CT making it my fault that he wasn’t enlightened earlier. Excuse me?

Where else in this country would it be the employee’s responsibility to make up for the rota co-ordinators mistake? Where else would the responsibility lie on the most junior member of the team to sort out. It’s the kind of additional stress that I don’t need. And it’s the kind of thing that makes me feel resentful.

I think I just assumed that the rota that had been provided would be right. I appreciate I could have escalated earlier, but in that time, I was trying to get cover. Anyway, the issue was resolved by me offering to come in and cover those couple of days even though I was supposed to be off (but I can take those at a later date).

Please comment below, I’m really interested to know what everyone’s opinion is.

Continue Reading

Driving Home

I open my eyes and sit up in my car seat a little. A minute later, I start the engine and continue my drive home.

I’d just finished a busy night shift. Non-stop, constant running from ward to ward for most of the 12 hours. I’d come on the shift with more than 10 jobs already waiting for me. The F1 on call was apologetic as she handed over a few more. What can you do? Some days are just busier than others. Add that to the patient that was deteriorating before our eyes and it’s easy to see why there was a back log.

I spent a lot of my time on this patient, his blood pressure kept dropping despite giving him 4 L of fluid. By the end of the shift he was taken to HDU for more support.

When the day team arrived, I was relieved to shrug off all responsibility and head home. I couldn’t be happier to get into my car and hit the pedal.

The tiredness never hits me in the beginning. I’m usually fully awake and smiling as I head towards home. It’s towards the end when the monotony of driving in a straight line without having to change lanes or stop or think plus the steady soothing hum of the engine starts to gently carry me away. I’m on autopilot. Ever so slowly the road markings start to blur, it feels like I’m drifting a little bit to the left, my lids feel really heavy…

This doesn’t always happen; I can often make it home without stopping. But there have been times I’ve come off the motorway, stopped at the side of the road or once at a local Tesco, switched off the engine and just closed my eyes.

Time passes, I open my eyes, turn the key and away I go.

It’s scary what tiredness can do. I had a colleague tell me that she thought she’d nodded off on her way home and was jolted awake by a horn from the car whose lane she’d started to drift into. The fear and the adrenaline spike kept her awake all the way home.

It’s hard work that we do. It’s just scary to think about what the consequences could be.

Continue Reading

5th May 2017


At 1 o’clock, I went to the fridge to get my lunch. If there’s one thing I look forward to during a shift, it’s lunch time. Half an hour of (supposedly) uninterrupted break time. So when I found a good point between jobs to get lunch, I dropped everything and headed straight to the staffroom, smug  in the knowledge that I wouldn’t need to line up for the same carb-loaded meal I had yesterday (pizza and chips). I opened the fridge, nothing immediately jumped out to me, so I had another look. No lunch. Stay calm, there is probably a reasonable explanation.

Turns out the reasonable explanation was that one of the health care assistants had thrown it away. What, with the container? No, the container was safe. The contents, not so safe. She apologised profusely but said she was just doing her job.

I didn’t have anything to say. I was not happy. Just one more reason why I resent the system.

Continue Reading

Getting A Medical Opinion

I had a really sick patient over the weekend. Everything I gave him seemed to have a temporary effect. The surgical registrar reviewed him, then asked me to get a medical opinion.

The way the bleeping system works is you press a single number, the bleep you’re trying to reach and the number of the extension you’re calling from. (The handheld phone didn’t have the sticker which tells you what the extension number is, but I knew the number off by heart anyway). I bleeped the med reg (medical registrar). No answer. I bleeped the assisting med reg. No answer. I waited. They’re probably really busy. I should just be a little patient. So I waited a little more. I might have bleeped a couple more times. Then I bleeped the critical care team because I was really worried about the patient. No answer. (In hindsight, I can see why this should have been a clue)

A little later I finally got the med reg to see my patient.

I left the med reg to it and tried to get on with the growing list of jobs. It was fast becoming a sea of green, amber and red requests. I was on a different surgical ward when I picked up the phone. I can’t remember who I was going to call or bleep but I flipped the phone over to check the extension number and I froze. Like actually stopped in my tracks and didn’t move. These were the four same numbers I’d dialled in earlier when I was trying to get the med reg. I cover these wards so often I’d mixed up extension numbers in my head. So every time I’d bleeped, they had probably been ringing this phone on this ward, whilst I waited on a different phone on a different ward.

What a stupid, embarrassing mistake to make. Obviously, I didn’t own up to it. This particular med reg wasn’t the kind you would have even a slightly humorous conversation with. I imagine he would first stare me down  until I disintegrated, then later make me the butt of every joke, till the end of time.

*embarrassed face emoji*

Continue Reading

A Fresh Start?

Things have picked up a bit in my new placement, which I appreciate. (I might soon regret this). But for now, I’m just relieved to be in a new team, doing a new job.

The first few days were hectic. Nothing major, just a moderate amount of jobs that kept me busy enough. I cover around 4+ wards, so there’s a lot of to-ing and fro-ing. The first day was an immense amount of to-ing and fro-ing, which meant I got tired really quickly. Over the next few days, I tried completing jobs by working my way through one ward, then moving onto the next one. It made things a bit easier but the nurses and patients didn’t play to my masterful plan, but nonetheless I was running around a whole lot less.

Even though it hasn’t been super busy, it’s enough of a pace that I’m constantly on my feet. And I need to be quite conscious of time so that I don’t stay too late. I’m trying to be organised and get things done as quickly as possible. This is why I try to delegate jobs if I can. If there’s something that I need to do, I’ll have to do it. If it’s something that potentially a nurse could do, then it’s super super helpful if they do it. The most tedious of jobs are cannulating and bloods, the bane of my existence.

The setup, the cleaning, the procedure itself, the clean down, then putting all the extra bits back in the right places. It’s all just too time consuming. You can imagine the immense gratitude I feel when I come across a nurse that can put cannulas in. My eyes roll to the back of my head with a silent prayer of thanks. I appreciate the nurses trying and having a go.

On Thursday, one of the nurses bleeped me on the ward to say her patient needed a cannula for his antibiotics. She’d tried and couldn’t get it. Fair enough. But I was still a bit annoyed, not at her, but at the cannulation situation. I get there, put one in and leave, I’ve still got quite a lot to do. Discharge summaries to write, other people to bleed (I think phlebotomists were on strike that day), scans to request etc. I get called an hour later, to put a cannula into the same patient I’d just put a cannula in because he pulled it out. Irritated, doesn’t begin to explain…

At that point, I still had a backlog of uncompleted tasks and I was annoyed at the idea that I had to go redo something I’d just done. It wasn’t the nurses or the patient’s fault. These things happen. I explained I wouldn’t be able to get there as I was swamped, and that if she could or anyone else could try but I wouldn’t be able to get there quickly.

When I got there, there was a tiny plastic cannula, nicely bandaged on the patient’s arm. I’m not sure who put it in, but it was like seeing a rainbow on a rainy day.

Continue Reading

Confessions of a Junior Doctor: My Thoughts

Confessions of a junior doctor Photograph: Ryan Mcnamara/Channel 4
Photograph: Ryan Mcnamara/Channel 4

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?

Episode 1

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.

Continue Reading

The ARCP Deadline

I have approximately 6-7 weeks before ARCP (annual review of competence progression) and I’m nervous. By the deadline, I should have completed all the competences before I’m found good enough to progress on to F2. These include: procedures, evidence of teaching sessions, case discussions etc. Essentially, there are hoops to jump. I have a few left to jump, but they’re not the easy ones. If it were a computer game, these hoops would be the golden coins you have to travel up a mountain and lose several lives in the process. They’re difficult, because the opportunities to actually get them done are hard to come by.

What worries me isn’t the amount of time, it’s that I’ll be too busy doing ward jobs to make time. And annoyingly, I had time on my last placement to get through these, but for some reason I just didn’t get as much done as I would have liked. This is completely on me.

I don’t have a lot left to do, and I know I shouldn’t panic but I’m automatically visualising worst case scenario. So, I’m working on a plan to get everything done before doomsday.

Continue Reading

The Train Journey

The train journey (from Edinburgh) was interesting. I’d gotten on ready to claim my rightful place but I eventually had to move and give up my window and table seat.

I was sitting with two other passengers: a woman and a man. At first I thought they’d arrived together because he was mid-conversation when I approached the table. I caught the end of his sentence about being torn between two places: Lancaster and I can’t remember the other place. It was clearly an emotional topic. I just assumed this conversation must have begun before they’d boarded the train (because we’d all got on at the same stop).

He was speaking so gruffly and erratically and the woman still hadn’t spoken. I realised at that point, she probably didn’t know him. *sighs inwardly* I was hoping for a quiet journey. He got up to let me sit by the window, then sat back down beside me and continued his one-sided conversation. It was fragmented and sort of made sense but I wasn’t paying too much attention. It felt like he was speaking his thoughts old loud, but it was awkward because we were all sitting around a table in really close proximity to each other. In my mind, I kept wondering: is he talking to us or… at us…or to himself…?

I thought it couldn’t get any more weird but we then descended onto new levels. He began asking me questions. Normally, I don’t mind engaging in friendly chit-chat, but there’s usually a nice opening like ‘hey’ or some remark about the weather or something neutral to get the ball rolling. I don’t know if he was drunk (I couldn’t smell any alcohol) or whether he just had an eccentric personality but his line of questioning made me uncomfortable and it seemed it made the lady in front of me uncomfortable as well because she quickly came to my rescue and asked him to stop.

I’d been caught off guard. I was trying to formulate a polite way to tell him to stop. But in that moment where my brain was trying to process what was happening and also think of an appropriate response: polite but firm, I just mumbled answers. I wanted to make sure I didn’t over react. So, I was in awe at how quickly she came to my aid. Then after, she asked me if I was ok, and I mouthed that I was.

I sat there and contemplated moving. I was wedged in. He was sitting beside me and the table (and the other lady) were in front of me. If I wanted to move, I’d have to engage with him again. The journey was three hours long and we were less than 20 minutes in. I could sit there and just ignore his ramblings or I could move. A younger me would have stayed, too embarrassed to move or to offend anyone else and just suffer silently .

I moved. I deserve the right to travel in peace. Plus, it was 2 in the afternoon and there were barely any other passengers so it didn’t make any sense to sit in what was essentially an empty carriage with bad company.

I’m thankful for that woman and how quickly she shut him down. I think sometimes, it takes someone on the outside looking in to realise that something isn’t right. So, I’m really, really grateful.

Continue Reading