Lectures, stethoscopes and depression
Written by Zara Zeb
Every student, before entering medicine, will be warned about the negative side effects that come with doing a demanding, high-profile profession. One such caution includes the word, ‘depression’. According to my scary sixth form teacher, ’many’ (she obviously didn’t do statistics) doctors end up depressed, and with that she told me not to even think about doing medicine. Because you see, I suffer from depression.
According to a recent survey undertaken by the Time to Change charity, an alarming 46% of mental health sufferers won’t tell their family about their condition, and 62% wouldn’t tell their friends because of the stigma attached. I used to think these things happen to other people, the sort of people who had a tough time scraping together enough money to pay the bills or who were in an abusive household. Being neither of those things, I denied for 18 months there was something wrong with me. A straight A student, with a loving family and lots of friends, what reason could I possibly have for not wanting to live?
What I didn’t know was that one in four people suffer from a mental health illness, and we all will at some point in our life, unfortunately, need a little boost. For some lucky few, they have a one-off illness lasting a few weeks or months, or a year, and then they are fine. For others, it lasts much longer. Symptoms are not so apparent either, because my sister ticks about ten of the classic symptoms but doesn’t suffer from any mental health issues – apart from maybe low self-esteem, but what teenager doesn’t? It took me to rocking myself in tears to finally admit, something is wrong.
“A straight A student, with a loving family and lots of friends, what reason could I possibly have for not wanting to live?”
What it is like to be depressed is so difficult to quantify. It’s an ever-changing experience and unique to each individual. It’s not like the common flu where everyone will experience blocked sinuses and runny noses. Put it this way, depending on how bad a day or week or month it is, I could literally lock myself away from the world and do nothing but wonder why I’m even on this planet. On a good day, I can get out of bed on time, I can talk to friends, I can have a laugh, and only wonder for fleeting moments, when will I stop pretending everything is OK?
I don’t have a magic wand and I can’t make you or my family or my friends understand what it’s like to lose certainty, to lose my place, to lose the ground beneath my feet and never to regain it. What I can do is advise you on how to be a good friend, and not do what my friend of more than a decade did when she realised depression also included suicidal thoughts, which is stop talking to me because I disgusted her.
“What I can do is advise you on how to be a good friend, and not do what my friend of more than a decade did when she realised depression also included suicidal thoughts, which is stop talking to me because I disgusted her.”
Firstly, it never goes away. It is always there, so don’t assume because someone has a good day or a few good days that everything is back to ‘normal’.
Secondly, there is no reason for why. It just is. Accept it.
Thirdly, don’t say it’s going to be ok. No-one believes you and you’re just belittling the whole thing. What you should do is just listen and sympathise. Most often than not, the person just wants to talk and say they feel like shit and for you to say that they have every right to feel that way.
“Sometimes there are just no words, but sitting next to someone and doing your work makes a lot of difference. The companionship and presence may suffuse the bubble of loneliness most sufferers have around them.”
Fourthly, sometimes there are just no words, but sitting next to someone and doing your work makes a lot of difference. The companionship and presence may suffuse the bubble of loneliness most sufferers have around them.
Fifthly, treat us like normal. We can still do medicine, we can still have a laugh, we just have extra unwanted thoughts and feelings.
Finally, don’t always mention it or hint at it. Just ask, ‘how are you?’ and let us take it from there. Sometimes we might say ‘fine’ and that’s that, but if you wait 30 seconds, we might change that into ‘actually today is difficult and I feel vulnerable and I need a hug’. But most of the time we are ‘fine’ and coping.
If anything, all I want to say is that having a mental illness shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of. It doesn’t stop you being just as capable as someone else. It doesn’t stop you being an amazing friend. And it sure doesn’t stop you from being a good Doctor. You just have to take care of yourself, understand the way you work, and never cross your limits.
If you want to read the two-page results of the survey, find out more about what you can do, or mental health in general, go to http://www.timetochange.org.uk/
If you have any questions or comments about this article or depression, please contact Zara Zeb, through the Comment Editor.
Mental health issues are common at university, affecting one in three students. Among medical students, this can rise to one in two.
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