Medics' Mental Health

Why it is not shameful to admit you can't take it anymore

I always think people don't understand. Whenever they tell me that they do, I immediately think, 'No, you don't. You never realise how stressful it is to cram the entire Gray's Anatomy or Guyton and Hall in your head. You never know what I'm going through tremendous pressure. I'm one of the elites at sixth-form and look at me now! I don't even remember that diabetes mellitus is a blood sugar problem! I am a failure!'

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I've been there before. And to tell you the truth, I understand the frustration. I know how hard it feels. By proving that I do, let me tell you more about my story.

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As a mischievous stethoscope, I am always sidelined. I have never been taken seriously in my life. I've always loved medicine - the smell of the hand sanitiser that stings the nose when one walks into the ward, actually brings tears of joy to my cheeks. I love how scientific theories can be applied to clinical practice. Everything learnt can actually help me at times of need. Don't laugh, but I learnt this super-rare disease called Castleman Disease in Year 2 and guess what, I did see that case eventually, although the patient was misdiagnosed three times. My love for the subject could also be construed as a façade. A mask to my inner hollowness.

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I don't have any friends. Not as many as I've alleged anyway. I never thought anyone would like me. A kid growing up in a council flat, I never felt I've blended into the med school environment. I have been surrounded by all kinds of people connected by one common characteristic - money. Most of them are rich and, standing by their side, I feel immensely inadequate. To reduce the awkwardness, I limit all manner of discussion to either daily rants about the inefficiency of the faculty, or some super interesting medical fact (oh well, my standard of 'interesting' is quite low - it applies to everything with the medical tag). But then, this compensatory behaviour has earned me no favours. I kept being seen as a 'show-off' or 'know-it-all'. I'm not joking when I overheard conversations about me - my closest friends disparaging me, reducing me to nothing but an arrogant, entitled wretch who doesn't have a life outside medicine. I went through a phase of depression (actually, as we all know, depression doesn't leave you- it's more of a relapsing-remitting disease and the natural history of the disease varies with one's environmental factors and susceptibility to available treatment). I tried committing suicide. I cried whenever I listened to mellow music - I guess there's a reason I love the Beegie Adair jazz version of Moon River.

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Of course, I might seem to be over-simplifying mental health illnesses. Being alone at medical school and the presence of such intoxicating attitudes 'contribute' to my state of mind. They are, by no means, the only factors at play. Also, some might think, 'Oh, this is so unrelated. You don't understand what medic stress is. You're just a cold, Scrooge-like git, that's all.'

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That's the point I'm trying to bring out. Not everything is about academic work. Medics can experience mental health issues in various ways. This also reflects the multiplicity of ways that beget mental health issues. We should abandon the notion that there is always a prescribed cause for an illness. We should forget about the existence of a so-called 'socially acceptable reason' to have a mental health illness. That is as ludicrous as saying that there is a 'socially acceptable reason' to have cancer. It artificially, for instance, creates a rift in societal sympathy for patients with lung cancer, between smokers and non-smokers, where the former group are deemed to have 'asked for it'.

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It is OK not to feel OK. It is alright not to feel alright. It is totally fine to feel not fine. I've been there and tomorrow is a better day.

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I would recommend reading Matt Haig's Reasons to Stay Alive and following his Instagram account. What a wonderful human being. Also, if you are in acute need of psychiatric help, do phone Samaritans' Helpline (116 123 if from the UK). 

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As a side note, boys and men are taught from a young age to be strong. My family used to tell me to stop when I started crying as a toddler, firing me with the golden bullet that I was a boy and boys shouldn't cry. They are all wrong. Boys and men shouldn't be subjected to such grotesque ideals of masculinity. Cry whenever you like. Cry whenever you feel down. Personally, I cry whenever I feel down. It is very liberating. It is a transformative experience as you get to channel that negativity out of your mind. Repression only leads to further illness. As mentioned in Suzanne O'Sullivan's It's All in Your Head, this sort of repression may contribute to psychosomatic illness. Be strong because you want to be, not because society or your family ask you to be. If you're in need of any help, dial 0800 58 58 58 and get in touch with CALM (Campaign against Living Miserably).

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You can do this. Tomorrow is a better day.