Ever since I wrote about how going for therapy was my biggest gift to myself*, I’ve met with a few medical students to talk about the topic of mental health. Many of them were worried about their ability to make it through med school with their illness. Many were worried about the viability of aContinue reading “Can I Be A Depressed Doctor?”
I had the pleasure of watching this film at a screening organised by JUDASA this past week, and I was glued to the screen (projector) from the opening shot. So was the rest of the audience.
Whenever I talk about my love for child health, and my intention to pursue it as a career, I get this kind of response:
“Oh, I could never work with kids. It just breaks my heart to see them suffer!”
I really believe that a medical student who is comfortable with therapy, becomes a physician who is comfortable with therapy; one who is comfortable with addressing the mental health of their colleagues, and one who can identify when their own mental health is spiralling out of control – and then do something about it.
This morning, I finished my post-intake ward round, said a few unceremonious goodbyes, and walked out.
And off I went.
I removed my nose jewellery recently, and in many ways that decision was as difficult as getting it in the first place.
Junior doctors (all doctors?) are to wear colour-coded wristbands to indicate the amount hours they have worked during their shift. This is something I support because it raises awareness not only among our supervisors, but also our patients – who, as I’ve shared before, are appalled when they realise the extent of our hours.
This single thought has me wishing I could go back, and do those four months again.
I enjoyed paediatrics in medical school, but never as much as this. How wonderful it was to be excited about work, to enjoy it so much that I willingly and eagerly read up more.
It seems like nobody cared about doctors working long hours until someone else was affected by it. Is it wrong for me to be bitter about this? That a layperson had to die before anybody cared about the doctors who were suffering? Ilne Markwat was not the first intern do die or suffer serious disability from exhaustion. If it was just her, and no other person injured, would anybody beyond her family and colleagues have cared?