Over the course of my late-life medical degree, I coined the snazzy phrase, “First do no harm begins with self-care”.<\/p>\n
It was a play on the Hippocratic oath, designed to empower some of the other, much younger students to look after themselves throughout a high-pressure degree.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Despite regularly advocating for healthy personal and professional boundaries, I wrapped up that degree surprisingly unwell.<\/p>\n
Powering on<\/p>\n
By final year, my energy levels had declined and I’d noticed a raft of changes in my body.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Being a mature-aged student (I was 40 at the time), I told myself I was just getting old. But as we approached graduation, that thought struck a vein of terror. If the perils of age were troubling me this much at medical school, how was I going to survive internship?<\/p>\n
Midway through our final exams, I got home from a comedy gig I was performing at and had a funny turn (so to speak). My health deteriorated sharply after that but I powered on.<\/p>\n
I applied for special consideration for the exams but didn’t have a diagnosis to share at that point, just the vagaries of being very unwell and a medical certificate from a local pharmacist in lieu of my fully booked GP.<\/p>\n
In the dark as much as I was, the medical school rejected my application.<\/p>\n
Despite this, I passed my exams but then ended up in hospital, pale and exhausted, where we finally got to the bottom of things. A benign but nasty tumour had been lurking at the base of my brain and wreaking health havoc for the preceding year or two.<\/p>\n
It turned out that funny turn was the tumour bleeding into my skull.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I made it through exams but wound up in hospital where they found the cause of my “funny turn” and subsequent health issues. (Supplied: Roland Bull)<\/p>\n
“You deserve the university medal for getting through exams with all this going on,” said one of my new specialists a few weeks later.<\/p>\n
I wore the statement like a badge of honour for months.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I felt preternaturally resilient: if I could get through medical school in the midst of a health crisis then surely, I could do anything.<\/p>\n
All those thoughts of being less energetic and capable than my younger peers morphed into pride at being able to handle so much more than the average person.<\/p>\n
Nonetheless, I postponed my internship for three months to get back on my feet.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The reprieve wasn’t all smooth sailing as I packed up my house in Canberra, moved in with family in Queensland, got settled and then braced for Cyclone Alfred. But I was itching to commence life as a junior doctor so ignored my sub-optimal recovery and launched into work in April this year.<\/p>\n
Human after all<\/p>\n
I lasted two shifts then totally crashed, physically and mentally.<\/p>\n
Tail between my legs, I had to admit I was human after all.\u00a0<\/p>\n
In fact, valuing resilience over adequate self-care had been a trap that set me back a few steps on the path to recovery.<\/p>\n
While completing medical school that unwell was a notable achievement, it was also incredibly stupid. I’d navigated a dangerous health event in survival mode, but I couldn’t live the rest of my life that way.<\/p>\n