For over two decades, I served as an obstetrician and gynaecologist, holding a consultant position at a major hospital in Bristol, the eighth-largest city in England. I chaired the hospital’s medical committee within the largest trust in the Southwest, one of the most beautiful regions in the country.
By that time, my personal life also seemed stable. My wife and I had recently marked our 30th wedding anniversary, and our two children were thriving at school, each captaining their respective sports teams. Achieving this professional standing had required an exhausting schedule—often exceeding 120 working hours per week during my early years as a junior doctor.
However, after years of stability and recognition, my world began to crumble. Over a three-year period, several distressing events struck in succession, gradually leading to emotional exhaustion. Eventually, my struggles became overwhelming enough that I sought help from a psychiatrist.
In 2008, while on vacation in New York, I received an urgent call from a general practitioner back in England. He asked me to see a young woman experiencing recurrent bleeding months after her second elective caesarean section. Her condition, known as an isthmocoele, involved a small gap forming between the surgical scars of her previous procedures.
The woman, only 26 years old, was desperate for relief and requested a hysterectomy as a final solution. Though rare for someone so young, her determination was unwavering. The surgery proceeded smoothly, and her condition initially improved. Years later, however, she returned with gastrointestinal issues and was referred to colorectal specialists for further care.
“Then my world started to collapse, and I made an appointment with a psychiatrist.”
This reflective account reveals how a respected surgeon’s successful career and stable personal life unraveled through professional strain, emotional distress, and the pressures of medical practice.