FOREWORD

Five years of med school. Two years of foundation training. Two years of basic specialist training. And it all came to this – the final step of my training: four years of higher specialist training.

I’d say I could hardly believe I’d made it to this step, but I’d be lying. For starters, I’d come back from my gap year refreshed and reignited, with the sole purpose of becoming an emergency physician. Second, once I’d managed to meet all the requirements needed to progress, I knew the rest would be smooth sailing. In fact, by the time I got to the interview to become an HST, it almost felt like a formality to me – rudimentary, even. The challenge would be something else.

The challenge, this time round, would be getting my crap together. Over the upcoming four years, I’d be expected to shape up and become worthy of being called a specialist. That, unfortunately, isn’t just a fancy title that comes with a pay rise. Hell no. Being a specialist would mean becoming one of the senior reference points for an entire department and taking on a hell of a lot more responsibility when crap hits the fan – which it inevitably does on a daily basis in the emergency department. Not so chill, huh?

But don’t let me get ahead of myself. That would be four years down the line. To get there, I’d have four more years of rigorous training, exams, quality improvement projects and online portfolios to complete. Four years of seemingly endless night shifts. Four years of sleep deprivation and flirting with burnout. Four years of probably doing my telomeres no favours. But… also… four years of incredible stories to recount. Four years of lives changed or saved. Four years of sheer satisfaction and pure privilege. Four years of experiencing as much life as I possibly could.

Because, at the end of the day, working in emergency medicine is the best and worst job in the world. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Bring it on!