A junior doctor’s battle to keep death at bay for state patients

I spent half a decade working to get into medical school, then another six years training to become a doctor, but it took just four months in my dream job before I was completely flattened by it.

I’m now a junior doctor at a major state hospital in Johannesburg. I pushed hard to get a post at this facility because I knew I would get unmatched training.

This hospital’s legacy of chaos is well known, and I realised the stress of working there would likely be worse than what people had warned me about.

But nothing could have prepared me for what lay ahead of me — and I wasn’t ready.

I expected that I’d work long hours, that I’d have to deal with losing patients, that there would be unkind seniors and absent colleagues. But I did not anticipate that I’d have to face all of it at once, all the time.

I was walking up to 20,000 steps (about 16km) on a normal day and no matter what I did, the system failed the patients before they even arrived in my ward. I spent the hour’s drive to and from work crying and eating, because there was no time for either on the job.

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One day I arrived at the hospital to find a patient’s bed drenched in blood; she had a rare blood condition and had bled all night. The nurses didn’t notice because the night shift was understaffed.

On another occasion, I remember having had to resuscitate a patient for 15 minutes by myself because the nursing staff refused to help. By the time my colleagues arrived, the patient was dead.

But each day I would return, hoping to keep death at bay for my patients for as long as I could.

In May 2021, I cracked. I woke up every day, still tired, and dreading work. Life was a cycle of work, sleep and sobbing.

I didn’t see it coming, even though I’d been working for two months with only two days off.

I was physically exhausted, and emotionally too. The job robs you of moments you can’t get back: religious holidays, important family moments, weddings, funerals.

Every time I tried to figure out how I got to this place, I would retrace my steps only to find that it was all me. I made decisions and commitments that led me to this. For what? Dread, a deep hatred for my job and anger at the path I had chosen.

I felt unbearably alone, even though I knew I wasn’t the only one. For every horrifying story I can tell, other doctors I’ve worked with can give 10 more.

I’ve spoken to colleagues all around the country and time after time health workers — from juniors to those who’ve been at it for years — all relay how they are brought to a standstill by the mental toll of this job.

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