“My HO Supervisor Still Never Acknowledged My Mental Illness.”

Humans of Medicine #23

Trigger warning: The following article contains elements of depression and suicidal thoughts which some may find disturbing. 

This publication is in conjunction with MMI Cure the Culture 2.0 Project. Information regarding the project can be found at @mmi_social and @mmicuretheculture on Instagram or our page HERE.

Medical school was a bliss. I enjoyed learning medicine and hanging out with my friends. I was very cheerful. Once I started as a house officer (HO), everything became so different. Suddenly, I was the front liner of all front liners, the first person to see patients before all the other doctors, the one handling the unimaginable and daunting shifts. Yet I continued to push through each day. 

I started off in medical posting, known to be one of the toughest postings in housemanship. The first few weeks into housemanship are always a struggle. We struggled to perform and our seniors were always too busy, leaving us stranded. I managed to cope, but alas I failed my first mid and final posting assessments. It upset me, but I took it as a challenge and continued on, completing the two-month extension in the posting. 

Despite my optimism, I failed the supplementary assessment too. 

It was then that I started feeling unmotivated and fatigued. I lost interest in music, football, and friends. I couldn’t bring myself to smile or laugh at simple jokes. I started losing sleep - I would wake up multiple times at night, leaving me drained even before going to work. The feeling of worthlessness and burnout started sinking in. I wished I could disappear, but how? Maybe death was an option. The second I had that thought was when I knew things had gotten too big for me to handle alone. I sat down and told myself, “I need help.” 

I approached my HO supervisor, the ward specialist who I was working closely with at the time for help. He assured me that he would connect me to a psychiatrist. I waited and continued on with my daily job but the matter was never brought up again. A few weeks later, I reached my breaking point and sought out the ward matron for advice. She reached for the phone then and there and booked an appointment for me. All of this under five minutes.

I was astounded. All it took was five minutes. She needed five minutes to secure an appointment. It was five minutes that my HO supervisor did not have for me. 

I continued on, working alongside him while waiting for my appointment. 

During my first appointment, I was admitted to the psychiatry ward due to suicidal ideation, of which I promptly informed my HO supervisor. I was surprised by the admission, but I was more hurt by the distance I felt from him. I did not expect his well-wishes or a visit, but I would like to believe that all medical professionals would be inclined to show some care or empathy. I spent three days in the psychiatric ward, where I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) and was discharged with antidepressants. I then returned to work alongside my HO supervisor. There was no mention of what happened. I continued on as a HO. 

Two weeks later, I was readmitted into the psychiatry ward. It was a Sunday and I was waiting for my weekly schedule. I had requested a few off-days from our Team Leader (TL), as I had worked back-to-back weekends for the past few weeks. To my greatest disappointment, the schedules remained unchanged. My weekends were filled with work, while the TL who had previous weekends off remained free on his weekends. At that moment, everything felt worthless. Why was I working so hard while others could spend their free weekends with their families? Did I not deserve a chance to enjoy time off as well?

I wanted to die. 

But I stopped myself and dragged my feet to the ED instead. I was admitted for seven days. During this admission, I was choked by one of the patients in the ward. Unnervingly, I wished the nurses were a little too late, I wished that the patient had continued his violence, I wished that I did not have to be here anymore. I wished that the incident had killed me. 

There I was, alive. I continued on working as a HO. My HO supervisor still never acknowledged my mental illness.

To be continued……

About the author

Interviewed and written by Ivanna Sim. Ivanna is a final year medical student from University of New South Wales and the current Co-Chair for Malaysian Medics International for the term 2020/2021.

Consent has been obtained from the interviewee for the purpose of this publication. The author has rewritten the article with permission from the interviewee.

Humans of Medicine is a new initiative under MMI. We tell inspiring stories behind portrait shots of our everyday unsung heroes. Curated by Malaysian medical students from home and abroad.

If you have a story you would like to share, please reach out to us at admin@malaysianmedics.org.