The Night I Almost Quit Medicine

The first days of internship were a blur. So many procedures, so much paperwork, so many departments—each with its own rules and unspoken expectations. As a fresh graduate, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of medical terminology and protocols that seemed second nature to everyone else.

As my first shift loomed closer, my anxiety reached fever pitch. Sleep became elusive, and my mind raced with an endless stream of catastrophic thoughts: I'm not good enough. I don't know enough. I should have paid more attention in lectures. What if I make a mistake and harm a patient? Didn't they realise I wasn't really a doctor?

The weight of responsibility felt crushing. Every textbook I hadn't memorised, every procedure I'd only practised on mannequins, every clinical sign I might miss—it all felt like evidence of my inadequacy. The gap between what I thought I should know and what I actually knew seemed insurmountable.

Two days before my first shift, I made what felt like the only rational decision. I would quit. It seemed like the only way to prevent the inevitable disaster that would surely follow if I stepped foot on that ward.

The Lifeline That Changed Everything

But then, unexpectedly, a lifeline appeared.

A friend's older brother, a psychiatry registrar who'd been through the trenches himself, took the time to talk me through my fears. His words were simple but profound:

"Nobody expects you to know anything yet. Medical school was theory—now is when the real learning starts."

"No one will let you make critical decisions alone. There are systems in place to support you."

"Just don't make the same mistake twice, and you'll be fine."

Those words cut through the noise of my anxiety and gave me permission to be a beginner. For the first time in weeks, I took a deep breath and found the courage to step onto the ward.

Four Decades Later: The Lessons Learned

That conversation happened nearly 40 years ago. Since then, I've had the privilege of providing anaesthesia for thousands of anxious patients—adults and children alike—guiding them through some of their most vulnerable moments. I've witnessed countless medical emergencies, made difficult decisions under pressure, and built a career I'm proud of.

But I've never forgotten that moment of crushing self-doubt, or the kindness of someone who took the time to remind me that feeling unprepared doesn't mean you're unsuitable.

Today's Junior Doctors Face the Same Struggles

Right now, across Australia, a new generation of interns is starting their medical careers. Hospital corridors are filled with bright, capable graduates who are experiencing exactly what I did all those years ago.

The familiar demons persist: imposter syndrome, perfectionism, and crushing self-doubt. These traits that initially drive us toward excellence in medical school can become our greatest enemies when left unchecked in clinical practice.

The pressure to appear competent while feeling completely out of your depth creates a perfect storm for burnout and disillusionment. Too many promising medical careers are cut short not by lack of ability, but by inadequate emotional and psychological support during those crucial early years.

The Question We Must Ask Ourselves

This raises critical questions for our profession: Do we have the right systems in place to support junior doctors? Are we teaching them not just clinical skills, but how to create sustainable, fulfilling careers?

As senior clinicians, we owe the next generation more than just clinical knowledge. We need to show them how to manage the inevitable pressures of medicine so they don't burn out before they've truly begun to contribute to healthcare.

We need to normalise the learning curve, celebrate questions over silence, and create environments where seeking help is seen as professional responsibility rather than personal weakness.

The Case for Coaching in Medicine

This is precisely why I believe coaching has become an essential tool in medicine—not just for trainees, but for all of us navigating the complexities of modern healthcare.

Coaching provides a structured approach to developing resilience, managing stress, and building the emotional intelligence necessary for long-term success in medicine. It offers a safe space to process the challenges unique to our profession and develop personalised strategies for thriving rather than merely surviving.

For junior doctors, coaching can be the difference between a sustainable career and early burnout. For senior clinicians, it can reignite passion and purpose whilst developing the leadership skills necessary to guide the next generation.

Starting the Conversation

If you've ever felt the way I did during those first days of internship, know that you're not alone. The feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt are not signs of weakness—they're signs that you care deeply about doing right by your patients.

The question is: how do we better support each other through these challenges? How do we create medical workplaces that nurture growth rather than perpetuate fear?

I'd love to hear your experiences. How did you navigate your first days as a doctor? What support systems made the difference for you? And what can we do to ensure the next generation of healthcare professionals has the tools they need to build lasting, fulfilling careers?

The conversation starts here, and it starts with acknowledging that even doctors—especially doctors—need support to thrive.

What are your thoughts on supporting junior doctors through the challenges of early career medicine? Share your experiences in the comments below.