Caribbean culture is quite intrusive and nosy so you’re bound to get uncomfortable questions and receive unsolicited comments and advice a lot. I suppose it’s the same in many other cultures too, but it’s a part of my culture which I can’t stand. For the most part, I’ve grown used to it but it still manages to catch me off guard sometimes. Relationships, marriage prospects, your fertility, weight, health, dress, hairstyle, skin, career, politics, religion, you name it– it’s not off limits in casual conversation at family get togethers or with coworkers, acquaintances or even complete strangers and my patients! In answer of today’s WordPress prompt, here’s why questions about career are the ones I hate to be asked about the most.
For reference, I’m a junior doctor in public practice in Jamaica– a very understaffed and under resourced sector. I graduated from medical school in 2019 and I’m past the halfway mark through residency. In Jamaica, like most other parts of the Commonwealth, a medical degree is a 5-year undergraduate programme which means that the average Jamaican doctor who passed all their courses on time and didn’t take a gap year to study something else, volunteer or work will begin practicing medicine by age 23 or 24 years old. I took the traditional path and graduated from medical school in 2019, so I am nearing the 5 year mark of practice (yay?). Medicine is an old profession so it has a lot of prestige in Caribbean households, so you may wonder then. Why do I despise the career question.
Firstly, medicine isn’t what I expected it would be. I refrain from talking about this publicly but… many of us are not happy with our jobs. Why? We realize that we are pawns in a system designed to keep people sick and disenfranchised. Rather than promote primary prevention of disease and support healthy living to prevent infirmity, we’re taught to sell capitalist treatments for diseases often created by a capitalist society. We’re also given very little with which to work and cursed bitterly by John Q. Public and the media when things go wrong, even when we did the best we could with our limited tools.
I have been rostered to work as many as 112 hours in a single week before. There are only 168 hours in a week. While I no longer work such brutish hours, this was, and still is the roster in many public hospitals in Jamaica. A good week is working under 60 hours for a doctor in Jamaica. As you get more experienced by year 3 or more of practice, it does get better but by then, you’re hopelessly burnt out. Many of my colleagues have resigned, migrated and I know several who just no longer practice and their medical degree is gathering dust.
I also meet most people under horrible circumstances. During the peak of the pandemic in 2021, I would break bad news as often as 5 or 6 times a day then be expected to smile and deliver happy news the next minute to another patient or family as if I didn’t just deliver news which tore someone’s family apart 5 minutes ago. I’d be battling my own thoughts and am often hungry, dehydrated and tired, or just splattered with body fluids and desperately in need of a shower, but the work must go on. It’s a constant battle of emotions, the lowest and highest of it, seeing the start and end of life, and expected to function as if the things we see each day are normal, and with no time off to process it. Relationships and friendships suffer. Your own relationship with yourself and your health suffers too. I often go to work while sick because the guilt of my already stretched-thin colleagues having more work in my absence is crippling. And most of us tend to do the same. Calling in sick is frowned upon anyway.
I shared a little of the toxicity of the profession so you could understand why I truly hate being asked about my career. There seems to be some morbid fascination with health care. When asked about my job, I lie and give the answer society expects me to give because it’s too much to explain but truthfully, no. My job isn’t fine. Yes, I’m still in school but yes, I get paid. And no, it doesn’t end after this– there’s still lots of schooling left if I choose to. However, career isn’t everything. The truth is I’m tired, and I have other goals and dreams I’d like to accomplish instead of following this fast-paced sleep-deprived lifestyle which is sure to give me a few chronic illnesses by 35 if I keep this up.
So please, don’t ask me about my career because I’m still trying to heal from the trauma. I long for a quiet life where I get 6 or more hours of sleep each night, have no 24 hour+ shifts, with traffic-free mornings, and time to reflect and find new hobbies and skills. I still haven’t read a book for pleasure from cover to cover since 2016! I want time to write more, to read for leisure and to feel at peace. I’m grateful for the lessons and my career– I don’t take my blessings for granted, but at the same time, I don’t plan to do this till retirement. If you see me living off-grid in the future in a country cottage somewhere far far away, just know that I’ll be happy and have achieved my wildest dreams. Until then, I’ll continue to do my best for the people who need my help. I’ve also made every day life much more enjoyable by embracing aspects of cottagecore in recent years, and perhaps I’ll write an article about that in a bit. 🙂 Let me know if you’d like to read about that so I’ll prioritize writing it. Have a great week!
‘Til next time.
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