‘Hello, my name is Noor Al-Saffar, and I am a [x] year medical student at the University of Manchester’ was the very first thing I was taught to say at medical school. It’s been delivered flawlessly at the start of every OSCE station (before I’m hit with trepidation that I have no idea what to do next), and been delivered at many consultations with patients.
The importance of introducing yourself appropriately to give patients a semblance of familiarity in an unnerving environment, of course, cannot be understated. But along the way I let myself be reduced to that phrase – at times I have only been a medical student, nothing more. I know many others have felt the same.
That’s why, when we came to deciding our theme for this year’s medical students conference, and the idea of focussing on medical student mental health and wellbeing came up, we all felt it was not only important but extremely necessary. And so came about our conference theme: ‘the person behind the doctor’.
It is no secret that compared to students on other courses, medical students are more likely to suffer from mental health conditions – from anxiety to depression, burnout to anorexic tendencies. While the issue is complex and multi-faceted, mounting academic pressure, financial difficulties, and lack of certainty around job security likely factor into it. And if mental health conditions arise outside the remit of medical training, those factors coupled with the prospect of being plucked away from your support system in return for your service likely do not help.
It doesn’t end there – even once in receipt of an income and the coveted ‘Dr’ title, the state of our working and training conditions can be demoralising. We are left with this feeling that we’ll never quite reach the finish line, that we’ll never be enough.
But the truth is, our worth was never tied to the title, or our ability to defy the systemic pressures that tell us otherwise. Practising medicine was never supposed to be grounds for suffering or inadequacy – regardless of what motivated you in pursuit of a medical career, it was always meant to be a labour of love.
Noor at the 2024 medical students conference
Which is why we deserve to practise it free from the burden of these pressures, and I hope this conference gives you the opportunity to work towards that – to raise awareness of the issues affecting you, and the fact that you and your peers deserve better. The situation may appear challenging now, but it doesn’t always have to be this way. Every speech, vote, amendment made at conference will help us move closer to the prospect of medical students thriving in pursuit of their qualification, rather than simply trying to survive.
The conference promises to shine a light on the mental health struggles encountered all too often at medical school, and how we can protect our mental wellbeing, as well as celebrating our uniqueness outside the ‘medical student’ label. Our keynote speaker, Dr Waheed Arian, will share his experience of fleeing Afghanistan and pursuing medical education whilst battling PTSD, and how this shaped his work. Our workshop speakers also have stories to tell, from Dr Crofts’ battle with depression amid the pressures and expectations of medical school to Dr Hankir’s challenging, but worthwhile, road to recovery after experiencing traumatic events.
What our speakers have in common is using their experience to support others in a similar position, and they have cultivated something remarkable – from Dr Salmon’s ‘Healthcare Club’, a space for mental and physical wellness, to Dr Gakhar’s social media platforms, which he uses to inspire change. They are all testament to one’s struggle becoming the greatest part of one’s purpose, and I cannot wait for you to hear about them.
Speaking to this idea of ‘the person behind the doctor’ – you may not see it, but your unique story means everything to your practice as a medical professional. Your losses and grief mean you can relate to patients and their families; your hobbies are what form the small talk with a patient, when they’re apprehensive about a procedure; your solidarity and compassion are why you’ll slide the packet of Percy Pigs to your colleague, slumped on the floor after their challenging night shift (a small act of kindness I witnessed between F1s in the MDT room recently).
So realistically, saying ‘Hi, my name is Noor Al-Saffar, and I am a [x] year medical student at the University of Manchester, and these are my wide range of hobbies and interests…’ may be a mouthful and take up a lot of time in my OSCE station (not that my medical knowledge would be expansive enough to fill the time otherwise)…
But I hope as you proudly wear that name badge on your lanyard, that it does not weigh you down – it should serve as a reminder of everything you bring to the NHS, the medical profession, and most importantly, the world in general.
Noor Al-Saffar is chair of the BMA medical students conference