Help! I'm a medic, get me out of here

I am a preregistration house officer and recently changed from a medical to a surgical job. I don't think I could have even begun to contemplate the different, curious, and complex world I have now entered.

As a medical house officer you have no real conception of what a surgical house officer actually does. I rarely saw our surgical counterparts during the past six months. They were either in theatre, in the doctors' mess, in bed, or had already finished for the day just as I was starting.

After my surgical induction day, however, I started to find out what life was like on the other side. Our introductory spiel by the lead surgeon gave me some subtle clues as to what to expect. If I was ever seriously considering a career in surgery, I was instantly put off it forever by his "welcoming" talk. His tone even upset the diehard surgical wannabes among us. I don't think we trained for six years to be patronised like this: "House surgeons are called house surgeons because they used to live in the house; we did a one night in two on-call and never left the hospital site in case we were needed. People lived and died by our blade. There was no way you could get a weekend off, and if you wanted to get married you had to ask your consultant's permission."

It was clear that his tone had infected the whole department. Recent changes such as protected sleep time for juniors (between 2.30 am and 8.00 am) were viewed as pathetic, and even the most minor mistake--common when beginning a new job in a new hospital--would receive a major bawling. Many have cried, and many have turned to the medic's friend, alcohol.

Not only was the attitude arrogant but also some surgeons clearly have no idea about the medical world close by--a world that I believe is hardworking and far more intellectually and emotionally stimulating. Some surgeons feel that surgery is God's own work and we are basically there to fetch and carry and tend to their egos.

This attitude and way of life is outdated and counter productive, and it seeks to exclude any keen, young, hopeful doctors who may be considering surgery, because there is no attempt to forgive a reasonable quality of life.

The worst things are the personalities and attitudes of some surgeons. Medicine is supposedly a profession where the central theme is care and, although a cliché, wanting to help patients. I have met few surgeons who want to help anyone other than themselves. There is condescension towards "ignorant, stupid" patients and continual arrogance in their behaviour--a cross between prima donna histrionics and stunted child development. I don't have to say much more about this because we all know that this stereotype exists, just as we know that "sympathetic surgeon" is an oxymoron.

I am bewildered. I don't really do anything within the confines of my role as a surgical house officer. There is a ward round every morning at 8 am, which is finished by 9 am. Then perhaps some blood tests to do, followed by going to the mess and rolling around with complete boredom because I have only four patients on my list. I have the option of going to theatre and holding a retractor for two hours, but that quickly loses its appeal. If I was back in my original job as a medical house officer I would have no time to sit down and drink five cups of tea. I would be up and about tending to my 80 patients, organising everything, and loving it.

Why is there this fundamental split in the attitudes of physicians and surgeons? Surgery is undeniably a technically difficult and arduous career. Surgeons save many lives. An operation may fix someone who is unwell, but they may not feel better if they have been psychologically mistreated. Surgery has closed its own door on me. I will keep my head down for the next few months, learn how to drain abscesses, and plan my medical career, knowing that I will have let myself and my patients down if I ever behave like the stereotypes I have come to know.

The author wanted us to publish this anonymously