After several years of debating within my own mind whether or not the job of a healthcare professional was the right role for me, I decided to take advantage of the two week work placement offered to all students in their final year of high school and arranged to spend it shadowing a remarkable Cardiologist, Dr. Arya at the Royal Albert Edward Infirmary.
Before applying for the placement, I had no specific interest in cardiology itself, but rather the notion of being a doctor. From a young age, I had always felt attracted to the idea of having a fabulous, well respected career when I grew up. Though at the time, upon being asked the question What would you like to be when you grow up, Rachael?' my answer would have been the obvious: An Oscar winner, of course!'
But as I matured and began to take a more serious approach to my career, I began to realise that the apparent fabulous' jobs were not only unrealistic, but unreliable and simply out of reach. My dazzling dreams of becoming the next Cameron Diaz quickly began to lose colour.
Nonetheless, around the same period of time, something quite extraordinary happened to me. I was diagnosed with a serious illness titled Hyperthyroidism' and gradually, I turned into a drastically thin, nervous and overemotional insomniac. I was taking twelve tablets a day, and visiting the hospital at least once a week.
After a year, I was finally placed under the knife, and the origin of my ill health was extracted. Thankfully, it didn't take long before I returned to my former healthy state. It was no less than a week until my mother cried "Oh, she's back!"
It was as if I'd taken a year long holiday, and whilst I'd been gone, I'd been replaced with a far more irritable person. The experience was pretty surreal and in my mind, an indistinct blotch on the map of my life. But as bizarre as it may seem, it was perhaps the greatest thing that ever happened to me.
The experience transformed me into a much stronger and intelligent person, with firm morals, added compassion and a positive outlook on almost everything. Even stranger, I had also started to enjoy spending time in hospital. Obviously, it wasn't the sick patients that struck me, but the staff that dashed around the place. They were all so encouraging, optimistic and hard-working. To me, the doctors and nurses seemed like holy beings.
And it was then that I realised that a career in medicine was something worth considering. I wasn't sure if I had the ability academically, but psychologically I knew I had something. I was inspired by my experience, and despite my not being particularly religious, I instantly began to feel as if it was a vocation. So when I was accepted for a two week placement within a local hospital, I considered it fate.
The first week of my post was spent following Dr Arya, an exuberant, witty yet determined gentleman who was completely fixed on his profession. If the hospital had been a zoo, Dr Arya would have been a cheetah. As he walked, he travelled at what seemed like seventy miles per hour, focused only one thing; his patients were his prey. Except, in this case his aim was definitely not to kill.
He was a small and slender gentleman, and initially, I had not deemed him to be a frightening man.
Oh, how I wrong I was.
He had shaken my hand firmly for no less that a second, when he instantaneously darted up the corridor. For a moment, I suspected I had been deserted, until he shouted "Rachael! I hope you have a good stamina!"
I had no idea what he had in store for me. Apparently, I was to shadow him on his morning ward round up on The Emergency Floor. On our way there, he began to explain the reason as to why he was so slim, "You must understand Rachael, that if you want to work in the NHS, there's no time to stop. I'll tell you this now; you must be prepared to survive on an empty stomach, maybe an apple if you're lucky."
I had doubts already.
For a fifteen year old with little knowledge, I was incredibly taken aback at what Dr Arya presented me with when we arrived on The Emergency Floor; "This is Karen*, a thirty five year old lady with no children," he announced to me and the two medical students who had joined us. We were in the vicinity of a middle aged woman, lying in a hospital bed. She groaned occasionally, and was holding her stomach tightly. He continued, "Karen* was rushed in this morning, after taking an overdose of paracetamol. She was found unconscious on her kitchen floor by her husband. Now, ahJessica! Tell me how you would approach the situation."
I was stunned. He was so matter-of-fact. I had been prepared for bedridden patients, blood and guts but shock still soared through me but I knew I had to become accustomed to it. The next five days were jam-packed with similar and even worse case scenarios.
Dr Arya's approach towards his colleagues was tough, testing and above all challenging. The way in which he came to appropriate conclusions for each of his patients intrigued me. With each patient, he gathered his surrounding team of doctors, registrars and medical students and approached the patient as if they were a mathematical problem. He gathered the overall first impressions, thoughts and opinions of his fellow colleagues and rolled them into one cumulative answer.
I had only just become familiarized with this process, when on my final day with Dr Arya, he presented me with a setback. He introduced me to a Frank*, a large gentleman sitting on a chair in the midst of a hectic ward. Both of his legs were sitting in great buckets of ice and although he appeared to be in severe distress, he still managed to have the politeness to shake my hand and force a weary smile.
His lower legs were swelled up like balloons, covered in horrifying sores, oozing blood by the second. I had never seen anything as horrific in my entire life, and as Dr Arya continued to explain, I felt an overwhelming compassion towards him. Apparently, the gentleman had been in hospital for over two months and despite relentless effort, doctors had still found no cure for his condition. They had tried and tested a variety of medications, ailments and ointments, and had failed to see any progress.
The gentleman had a pleading look swept across his face as he spoke to the doctor. I simply couldn't relate to the hurting and aggravation he must have felt, despite his agony he still managed to maintain his patience and etiquette. My emotions had been knocked for six by his ability to stay so strong and as I left the room, I couldn't help but shed tears.
Throughout my time in Dr Arya's presence, I began to recognize what being a doctor actually demands from a person. Not just the basic tasks and responsibilities, but more importantly the sacrifices and impediments that this career entails. Unlike average conventional work, this job demands so much more than intelligence. It requires a proficient, sharp mind and a compassionate, selfless personality.
I'm still working on gaining all the necessary grades needed to pursue a career in medicine, but with a little determination, I'll hopefully do it.
So, my advice to you? Don't settle or work towards a job that you're not sure you can relate to. Head for something you're passionate about, something you have experience and enthusiasm for, even if you have to push the boat out a little further and work hard for it - you won't regret it.