I’ve never liked following a strict system, and I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s because standard procedures feel too rigid, or perhaps I question why these rules exist in the first place. Are they really set up for everyone’s benefit, or do hidden motives shape them? I’m not saying I’m right or wrong—this is simply how I’ve always thought.
You can really see this in medicine. The path to becoming a consultant is set out clearly: go to medical school, graduate, do your foundation years, apply for specialty training, and then work your way up to consultant level. It’s a solid plan, recognised by all, and it ensures doctors get proper training.
Yet I still wonder if the system might serve other purposes—like keeping certain hierarchies and structures in place. That’s not necessarily wrong, because standardisation often keeps patients safe, but it can feel limiting.
What if someone has different interests or skills that don’t fit the usual route? A strict path can restrict how creative or exploratory you can be. Yes, it’s easier and safer to follow the road most people take, but if we never step off it, we might miss out on new opportunities or deeper fulfilment.
I’m not against structure in general—it has its place. But we do need to ask whose interests the system really serves. If the standard path feels too narrow, maybe it’s worth seeking another way, even if it’s uncertain. After all, sometimes that uncertainty leads to the most growth and satisfaction.
Sometimes I wonder how different our medical training system could be if we rebuilt it from the ground up.
Right now, we spend huge amounts of time, money, and effort on a path that might not be as effective as we think.
Look at the foundation years, for example, they’re meant to help junior doctors gain broad skills, but they often feel more like they exist to keep hospitals staffed than to truly teach.
In the end, many juniors end up doing repetitive tasks—taking patient histories, chasing test results, or filling in mountains of forms—which don’t really deepen their clinical knowledge or improve patient care.
One major problem is that the current system doesn’t always put patients first or truly support new doctors.
A lot of what happens feels like busywork, leading to layers of paperwork and needless stress. It’s a bit like an assembly line: everyone moves step by step, ticking boxes but not really growing.
While it might seem organised from a managerial point of view, it doesn’t always help doctors develop strong clinical skills or a caring bedside manner.
If we were brave enough to change this system, we could focus on the things that really matter. The main aim should be to train doctors who are both skilled and compassionate, able to give the best care possible.
We could shorten certain rotations or get rid of pointless tasks that only exist to fill time. Instead, junior doctors could spend more hours learning side by side with experienced consultants—seeing how to diagnose, treat, and communicate with patients and their families.
That hands-on experience would be far more valuable than filling out another form that has no real benefit to patient care.
Another idea is to let students specialise earlier. Traditionally, doctors spend years covering all areas of medicine before deciding on a specialty, to ensure they have broad knowledge.
While that has its merits, many students already know the field they want—like cardiology or neurosurgery—long before they finish training. Forcing them to wait might waste years they could have spent mastering vital skills.
By allowing earlier specialisation, we could help them grow into experts faster and spend less time on tasks that don’t advance their learning.
Of course, some worry that early specialisation limits a doctor’s overall understanding and flexibility. But there’s also a lot of inefficiency in the current setup, with junior doctors sometimes doing routine tasks that don’t add to their clinical expertise.
By restructuring, we could let them focus on the areas they’re passionate about while still making sure they have a good grounding in general medicine.
Finding the right balance is key. We could keep enough general training so students aren’t too narrowly focused, but also let them dig deeper into a chosen area sooner.
We could give them proper mentorship along the way, reducing pointless bureaucracy and nurturing doctors who are both well-rounded and highly skilled in their field.
In the end, if our real goal is to provide the best patient care, we should question whether our current system is the best way to get there. Maybe we need a more flexible approach that encourages junior doctors to follow a path that suits their interests and strengths, rather than forcing everyone into the same mould.
By cutting down on paperwork, offering early specialisation, and focusing on patient-centred learning, we might end up with doctors who love their work and patients who get better care.
After all, a system that supports the people delivering healthcare should ultimately lead to healthier, happier patients too.
As for me, these are just my personal reflections on the career path I’m taking right now. I know I can’t overhaul the whole system, but I can still carve out my own route. I’m trying to make the most of what’s already there while also exploring less traditional, more uncertain options.
That’s why I’ve been writing online, sharing my experiences and thoughts as I attempt to shape a journey that feels truly mine, rather than just fitting into a ready-made structure. In doing so, I hope to find a balance between learning from what works in the existing system and creating something new on my own terms.
If you’re interested in following along, please feel free to subscribe to my newsletter and check my previous posts. I’d love to have you join me as I continue to explore this path in my own way.
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