When the Hospital Follows You Home: finding purpose from transitioning from medical student to resident doctor

As a foundation year two doctor, I reflect on my evolving relationship with medicine and the complex interplay between identity, vocation, and wellbeing. Through the exhaustion of long on-call shifts and the quiet moments in-between, I explore how medicine extends beyond the hospital walls – becoming both a source of persistent distraction in my personal life and my source of purpose. In systemic pressures, burnout, and industrial action, I confront the negative narratives on the realities of clinical practice, while also outlining the paradox of loving a profession that can consume you. I offer to incoming doctors how mentorship and reflection can help sustain balance and ultimately recognise medicine for what it truly is – it is more than a career: it mirrors who I am, shaping not just what I do, but how I understand myself and my place in the world.

The hospital hums long after I’ve left. I can still hear the beeps of the monitors as the tube hammers into the night, my thoughts looping back to the patient who smiled when her pain finally eased. I finally make it home after a long weekend on call, shattered and exhausted. I finally sit down and give myself a second to think; the pager silent, the room still, I have a moment to breathe – yet I find my mind still at work. There’s something addictive about the rhythm of it all. Strangely, after a weekend like that, you’d think I would crave distance from medicine – but even now, my mind drafts back to the hospital. All I can think about is returning for my next shift.

When I first became a doctor, I thought medicine would be neat diagnoses, prescriptions, and clear outcomes. Instead, it was fumbling at the bedside and asking questions I did not know the answers to, feeling lost in an ever-growing body of knowledge. I often wondered if I belonged. Was the path I chose at 17 years of age the right one? Had I made a mistake? Or have I found exactly where I’m meant to be. In current circumstances, staying positive about medicine is not always easy. Pressures are high, hours are long, staffing is stretched – challenges reflected in studies showing high rates of burnout amongst resident doctor [1]. It can feel like there is never enough time for patients. Overwhelm is almost routine and in the midst of this, morale across the profession has fallen. As we enter the second wave of resident doctor strikes, the burden weighs heavily on everyone – many are torn between the responsibility we hold to our patients and the recognition that change is urgently needed. Training has stagnated, opportunities to learn are shrinking, and the system feels stretched to its limits. Among my peers, no one would claim that industrial action is needed for better pay – no one chose this career path for the salary. We strike because we can no longer access the support and training we need to grow in the roles we love and provide the care the public needs, and, because without radical change, both doctors and patients will come to suffer.

As I sit mindlessly listening to the kettle hum whilst pouring a much-needed cup of tea, the patient’s smile replays in my mind. Her words echo, “Thank you Doctor. You do not know how much this means to me”. In that simple exchange, the chaos, the endless list of tasks momentarily fade away. These moments remind me why I became a doctor – the connections, the learning, the small victories that matter more than any textbook answer. Medicine is exhausting and relentless, yet even in its challenges, I find sparks of purpose. Each patient interaction, each decision, shapes not just what I do, but who I am.

It’s hard to explain the sense of belonging. Perhaps it’s only truly understood by those who have stood in that position, holding someone’s life in their hands, being present in someone’s most vulnerable moments. The privilege of being able to say, “I do this job, I love it, and I matter here.” I’ve found not just a professional identity, but a sense of purpose and fulfilment which carries me forward. Medicine is not just a career, it is a mirror that reflects not only what I do, but what and who I am. Studies have shown that professional support networks are critical for sustaining engagement and resilience in medial trainees [2]. In truth, medicine has become inseparable from me, my constant companion, my partner in crime. We talk so much about burnout but sometimes loving your job can be just as time consuming. I find myself repaying moments, not out of anxiety, but out of awe. I can’t help but wonder if this balance is truly sustainable. Is this a healthy passion – or am I teetering on the edge of losing myself in it? I have come to realise that it is possible to love what you do and still experience burnout. It’s underscored the importance of nurturing friendships both within and beyond medicine, as well as maintaining hobbies and other interests that nourish the self. Equally vital is having an engaged supervisor, even when you feel you are coping and flourishing. An experienced supervisor and mentor doesn’t just push you towards teaching opportunities, projects, and academic success, they also recognize when you need to widen your perspective outside of work, to take a step back and see a broader focus to restore balance and longevity.  Inevitably, Monday comes. I am back on the ward and feeling like I’m at home. The pre-shift anxiety settles and the fulfilment returns, ready for a whole new week. Through transitioning between student and doctor, I’ve found that medicine doesn’t end at the hospital doors. It lingers, gentle and persistent – a hum threading through everything I do. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Perhaps it’s time I stop trying to set it aside and instead learn to embrace it as the realization of who I am.

References

1. Shanafelt TD, Boone S, Tan L, Dyrbye LN, Sotile W, Satele D, et al. Burnout and satisfaction with work–life integration among physicians in 2025: a national survey. JAMA Intern Med. 2025;185(3):210–8
2. Monrouxe LV. Identity, identification and medical education: why should we care? Med Educ. 2010;44(1):40–9

Dr Amelia Simenacz

F2, London Foundation School

May 2026

All previous HOFP articles can be found on our HOFP webpage

The views expressed in this article are those of the author’s, and do not necessarily reflect the official stance of the UKFPO.