Juggling anaesthesia training with a long-term illness - a personal perspective
I was diagnosed with a
long-term illness (LTI) after
completing my first year of
training in anaesthesiology.
Initially I was unable to walk
or hold my six-month old son
with confidence. However
besides this impact on daily
life, the prospect of losing the
career that I loved was my
predominant fear.
I did not want anyone to think that I was a weaker link, as that is not how I saw myself.
I had time off to rehabilitate, having a lot of work to do in this
respect. It was at this point I learned to juggle - yes, actual
juggling, with balls! At first I dropped them on every single
occasion. I spent a lot of time picking balls up from the corners
and crevices of my living room, much to the amusement of my
son. Some crockery was sacrificed in my endeavours to master this
new art. I repeatedly attempted the smooth, impressive motion
demonstrated by expert performers, but instead I heard the thud
of the balls on the floor. I repeated this for hours, for days on end.
With time the dropped balls became less frequent, the motion
more fluid, and family increasingly more impressed.
Visibility, for a person living with a long-term illness, is a constant challenge.
I returned to work gladly in a new hospital, new colleagues; my
new diagnosis was a private entity that I was reluctant to share. I
did not want anyone to think that I was a weaker link, as that is not
how I saw myself. I also did not want sympathy, however well-meaningly
it was directed. With time I shared my diagnosis with
my colleagues, and this became a very positive experience. I have
since only ever been treated with kindness and respect.
Visibility, for a person living with a long-term illness, is a constant
challenge. The archetypical portrayal of an anaesthesiologist
is that of a physically fit, high-achieving individual. We feel this
difference immensely, and as a result we are frequently ill-prepared
to support each other. Repeatedly reminding new
colleagues that I have an underlying health condition is taxing,
which was amplified during the pandemic. Patience is vitally
important, and educating others is part of the ongoing process.
Many will not have met a doctor with additional needs before and
will naturally be curious.
Following the initial shock and realisation of the implications
of a long-term illness, my focus soon centred on the positives.
Much of what constitutes illness consists of things we cannot
change, but it is a dynamic situation with a multitude of inputs.
The phrases I so often used in my interactions with my own
patients became personally focussed. I discovered a new sense of
valuing inclusivity, deeper compassion, increased empathy, a new
appreciation of life and an awareness of the value and importance
of supportive team members. I also developed an enhanced
understanding and acceptance of my own vulnerability as a
clinician. Modifying, reorganising and remaining optimistic is vital
when juggling the demands of medical appointments, academics
and practising. When all the balls are in the air, it looks effortless.
I still hear that thud of a missed catch, but the difference is that I
often have a spare hand to pick it up - and I continue to juggle.
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