At some point, we’ve all joked about disappointing our parents by not becoming doctors. For many of us, it was seen as the highest profession to strive for, and the greatest marker of intelligence and success. While shows like Grey’s Anatomy and New Amsterdam shed some light on the struggles that doctors face, they also glamorise the experience and rarely reflect the reality of working for the NHS.

Between resident doctors’ strikes over pay (the BMJ asserts they’ve experienced a 25% decrease since 2008), horror stories on MedTwitter, or even trying to make holiday plans with your doctor friends, you know how hard their lives are. After five years of gruelling study, supplemented with placements, they’re thrust into two years of intense training where their casual work debriefs are met with alarmed looks from non-medic friends and being incredulously asked, ‘Is that even legal?!’

Junior doctors are responsible for hundreds of patients at a time, followed by specialty training that can last three to eight years. While more medical school places have been created, there has been no concerted effort to increase the number of training places downstream, making competition worse each year. New grads are now competing against previous applicants, as well as international graduates. Even with Wes Streeting’s promise to prioritise training posts in his upcoming 10-year health plan, as one friend said, “The damage has already been done.” 

Furthermore, specialty training posts require a self-assessment of your achievements, with a strong emphasis on research and academic medicine. The amount of additional work that needs to be done to meet the rising criteria due to increasing competition, alongside the gruelling foundation years, is, as my friend tells me, “absolutely unsustainable. It doesn’t matter how good a doctor you are or how great you are with patients, you’re simply not enough.” 

Many doctors take up non-training posts while applying for further exams, but NHS funding caps limit availability, despite ongoing staff shortages.

I spoke to five doctors and one ex-doctor-turned-start-up-founder to find out what their experiences have been like, how they’ve evolved, the challenges and rewards of medical practice, and ultimately, whether it’s still worth being a doctor in the UK. 

The Experiences on the Ground

Resident doctors speak of severe burnout, the collapse of their social lives, and a lack of work-life balance, leaving many unable to do the very thing that drew them to medicine in the first place: to care.

Now in her third year as a resident doctor, Yasmin says the lack of support and difficult working conditions are deeply demoralising. The red flags were there early on – overworked doctors, under-resourced wards, and a stream of warnings from doctors to reconsider the profession. Still, she entered the NHS with realistic expectations, but was quickly overwhelmed. Long night shifts, managing hundreds of patients, broken equipment, and often no proper seating – just perching on a bin between rounds – have left her feeling undervalued.

“At the start, you’re more empathetic and forgiving, but with time, you can lose that sense of empathy. The job wears you out so much that you become numb. It’s the only way to cope.”

Zayn, a Pakistani national, now five years into his career, began working during the pandemic in Hull. Though intense, the work was deeply meaningful. “We were all under pressure, working towards the same goal – it really bonded us.” Later placements felt easier. “In York, it was relaxed, the team was happier, and it felt like a holiday, but less purposeful.” In contrast, working with migrants and asylum seekers in London gave him that sense of purpose again.

He reflects on that loss of empathy Yasmin described, “Studies show a negative correlation between burnout and empathy. You learn to work faster, but what often gets sacrificed is care.” 

He wonders if the stereotype of cold consultants is less about personality and more about years in a system that wears you down. “We don’t want to be like the previous generation; we want to hold onto empathy.”

For Ahmed, the stark difference between expectations and reality led him to leave medicine altogether. Raised in an Arab environment where medicine was the default for high achievers, he excelled academically and saw it as a noble and fairly compensated profession. But he soon saw the cracks in medical school and later in practice. 

“I distinguish between leaving medicine and leaving the NHS,” Ahmed explains. “Practising medicine is a privilege, but the system didn’t align with my values. As a creative thinker who enjoys building solutions, I felt stifled within a rigid system that didn’t reward innovation, especially in the early stages of a medical career. You’re expected to conform to a very specific way of doing things. It’s hierarchical – if a consultant tells you to do something, you just do it.” 

Despite being taught that medicine is collaborative, he experienced an environment where questioning authority or suggesting improvements wasn’t welcome. “You don’t get much autonomy, ownership or satisfaction from the work – you often just feel like an admin monkey.”

Conversely, Haadi, who graduated last year, has had a more positive start. “I’ve really enjoyed it so far—that’s largely down to the hospital and a supportive team. I’m not thinking too far ahead or worrying about job security just yet. But the constant rotations are tough. You start over every few months, which makes it hard to fully settle. And once you’re in the system, the issues become glaringly obvious. Still, for now, the positives outweigh the negatives.”

Systemic Issues

When I asked doctors about the systemic issues making their jobs – and lives – harder, they described a toxic workplace culture, mounting patient numbers, staff shortages, poor pay, and an unsupportive admin staff. Rigid hierarchies, long hours, and little control both inside and outside of work have only made things worse.

Maryam, in the early stages of her training, says she loves patient care, but the pressures on the NHS, from public mistrust to deteriorating service issues, make her job very challenging. 

“The challenges were always there,” she says, “but people don’t realise how worse things have become with time. The pressures we face in the health service are truly unprecedented – patient numbers, COVID backlog, an ageing population, and staff shortages are just some of the issues that have escalated. We are working harder, and for longer hours, for less pay.”

I asked whether they were aware of these issues before entering the profession. 

Ahmed reflects on the disconnect, “There’s a naivety. You tell people, ‘This job isn’t what you think,’ but it doesn’t sink in until they live it.” He also points to how comparisons sting more now.

“Before, doctors worked hard but were compensated for it. Now we’re working harder, missing out on life, and still earning less than friends with 9–5s. It is easy to start questioning, ‘Why am I doing this?’ Especially when society isn’t valuing it the way it used to.”

Yasmin elaborates on these struggles of being caught unaware of how truly difficult it is to be a doctor in the NHS, “The challenges in medicine are indeed global — in some countries, doctors are on call for days, so we’re relatively protected in the UK with limits on working hours. But the real issue here is how undervalued we feel by the system. We’re missing the basics: working computers, decent chairs, and the ability to take annual leave without a battle. Admin and HR only care about rotas. It’s incredibly disheartening.”

“And on top of that, patients are understandably frustrated. As medics, we’re on the frontline of complaints, often unable to deliver the standard of care people need because of the system’s failings. The job stops feeling rewarding – and that’s meant to be the trade-off for all the sacrifices.” While she had some awareness from placements, she didn’t grasp the emotional cost until she lived it.

Haadi, still in his first year on the job, is less disillusioned by the issues that plague the NHS.

“Undeniably, it’s a tough gig and some of these challenges have always been present, but despite that, for someone passionate about the work, it’s still fulfilling. A person’s intentions for going into medicine will make all the difference.”

Changing Attitudes from Parents 

It’s a longstanding trope that ethnic parents only value three career paths: medicine, engineering and law. While comedians have beaten this joke to death, many of us who deviated from these “honoured” professions have, to some extent, internalised a sense of failure – even if our parents never placed that pressure on us. The stereotype runs so deep that even those who did pursue medicine are often assumed to have done so to fulfil their parents’ wishes. This perception can be frustrating to those who genuinely chose medicine purely for the love of the game, or validating (perhaps even regret-inducing) for those who did it out of familial pressure. 

But is this assumption rooted in reality? Have parental attitudes towards medicine changed over the years? 

Maryam believes there has been a positive change in how the Muslim community views medicine and career choices more broadly. 

“We need to question motives, particularly around social status-seeking as Muslims. There are many career options we should be open to. While I still find medicine fulfilling, we need to be more open-minded, for many people, other paths are more suited!”

Haadi agrees, but asserts that he and his younger brother, also a doctor in training, weren’t pushed into the field by their parents.

“I couldn’t tell you if it’s because the financial situation for incoming doctors is at an all-time low, or if parents are more appreciative of other options, but it is no longer the be-all and end-all like it once was.”

Yasmin has noticed the shift too, but recognises that misconceptions still linger. 

“There has definitely been a bit of a shift – I’ve heard people say they wouldn’t want their children to go into medicine because they understand how tough it is, even doctors themselves, as they know what lies ahead.

That said, in certain ethnic communities, there is part pressure, and part lack of awareness about other career options. There’s not much knowledge about degrees or apprenticeships outside of the usual ‘respectable’ paths. There’s also the belief that being a doctor will bring social status that many immigrant families didn’t have, including job stability and dignity around the world. But people don’t realise the lack of security that accompanies healthcare job contracts.”

Ahmed notes that the disproportionate representation of ethnic minorities studying medicine is indicative of a cultural phenomenon. “Medicine should be for people who genuinely want to do it. Parental or peer pressure is one of the worst reasons to become a doctor, leading to unhappy professionals – and I’ve met many – which ultimately affects patient care.” 

In my own experience, the ethnic make-up of students reading STEM subjects at university was far more diverse, whereas I was one of about 20 ethnic minority students in my History course, out of 400 students. Courses that had a clear job at the end of them are reflective of the immigrant family’s necessity to build wealth and chase job security. Many of our parents and peers outright dismissed arts degrees as worthless, and we recognised our privilege in being able to choose a degree based on our interests rather than practical considerations. 

Ahmed continues, “I think it’s because in many communities, medicine is seen as the pinnacle – the most ambitious, stable, and prestigious career. That belief doesn’t always come from parents pushing it; it’s just something that’s embedded in the culture. And I think we need to ask: is it really the best thing for our communities if all our most academic, driven young people are channelled into one career? Shouldn’t we be broadening the definition of success and ambition?”

Attitudes of Students 

Being surrounded by doctors and aware of the strain they’re under, I’m usually surprised when young people express interest in medicine. I often ask them if they understand the challenges, and try to connect them with a resident doctor friend, hoping to offer better clarity so they can make an informed decision. I asked some doctors if they’re aware of students’ attitudes towards medicine – is it still considered an alluring career path, or are its difficulties more widely recognised?

Maryam is pleasantly surprised by the continued interest, despite the challenges. 

“The number of places has slightly increased with government funding. Students are reconsidering pursuing this career, and some are actively choosing not to. It’s not a decision to be made lightly! I’m glad more doctors and ex-doctors are speaking up about the issues and their experiences. The decision to pursue medicine should be as informed as possible – as much as can be when you’re 16!”

Zayn notes the contrast in attitudes between regions. “It depends on where you’re asking. In Pakistan and across Asia, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia, there’s still a strong cultural prestige attached to medicine, law, and engineering.”

But he has noticed a gradual shift in the UK. “Computer science, banking, and finance are becoming more prominent, and as knowledge becomes more accessible, people are discovering other viable career paths. Students are more aware of their options and the old idea that success equals becoming a doctor has diluted with each generation, as people realise there are other, sometimes better, paths to success.”

Yasmin agrees with this, attributing it to the role of social media, “There’s been a huge rise in medical influencers, and under their videos, teens often comment, ‘I was thinking about medicine, but now I’m not so sure.’ Between that and all the strike coverage, people are more aware of what being a doctor in the UK really involves.”

“For people who are truly set on being doctors, I don’t think they’ve been put off. The aspiration is still there – even if they don’t fully understand what it’s really like until they’re doing the job.”

For many medical students today, becoming a doctor is no longer seen as a lifelong vocation, but they see their degrees as a way to open several doors, a mindset that Ahmed noticed amongst students in particular environments. 

“When I graduated a few years ago, most of us still wanted to be doctors by our final year, including me. I didn’t have plans to leave the profession. But that’s started to change.

At places like Oxford, Cambridge, and even London, students are exposed to other options, such as consultancy, startups, or building an alternative portfolio. More students now are thinking, ‘This is just a degree, and I can use it however I want.’ A decade ago, you’d only leave medicine for something major, like illness or becoming a stay-at-home parent. Now, I’d say one in three, maybe even half of med students, are seriously considering other careers.

Many residents don’t hate medicine – they’re just worn down by the NHS. But after investing their whole life into it, they feel stuck. For every person who figures out how to pivot, there’s another who would leave if only they could see a clear route out.”

Is It Still Worthwhile?

I asked the resident doctors whether being a doctor in the UK is still worthwhile. With declining pay, inflexible rotas, relentless workloads, and a lack of support that leaves them burnt out, why not jump ship? Their responses showed that it largely depends on personal values, priorities, and what trade-offs one is willing to accept. 

Despite the issues she identified, Maryam believes that it’s still very much worth being a doctor, here or anywhere else. 

“The options after qualifying are endless, even outside clinical practice! Few jobs are as rewarding, intellectually stimulating, and provide the privilege of caring directly for people. But this depends on the person – knowing your priorities is key. As a Muslim, I’m also grateful I have fewer ethical dilemmas than many of my friends in the private sector do when it comes to halal income.”

Ahmed deliberates on his response. As someone who made the choice not to continue with his specialisation training as a result of the restrictive and thankless environment, he thinks that the conditions can make or break a career.

“It’s a hard question. It depends on what ‘worth it’ means to you. Things have slightly improved – the strikes led to a significant pay rise, and more could come. But most people don’t go into medicine for the money. If you’re looking for financial reward, careers in consultancy, tech or finance are far more lucrative.

The real question, I think, lies in whether it’s worth being a doctor in the NHS. For me, the answer is no. I couldn’t provide the level of care I wanted due to the constant pressure and not enough time or resources to properly support patients. Some doctors feel they’re delivering excellent care, especially where funding is better. Others feel the opposite. So it’s not a simple yes or no – it’s a complex, highly individual question, depending on your ‘why’ of pursuing medicine.”

Interestingly, Zayn points to the NHS being publicly funded as an advantage to practising medicine in the UK, where decisions are made for the benefit of the patient, rather than being driven by financial extortion. 

“One advantage of working in the UK is a public healthcare system, where decisions are made for the benefit of patients, not profit. I once suggested a CT scan for a patient, and my tutor reminded me, “We’re not in America,” meaning we have budget constraints – but those constraints help focus care on what’s truly needed.”

It’s worth noting that this is an overly optimistic view of how decisions are made within the NHS. While we don’t experience the extortion of the US medical-industrial complex, doctors being tied to these financial constraints often translates to having pain dismissed and late diagnoses due to an unwillingness to use limited resources. Disabled people, people of colour and women are often forced to advocate for themselves due to the intersection of budgetary issues and deeply entrenched biases.

Yasmin also struggled to answer and emphasised individual priorities. 

“If you want to make money or an easy lifestyle, medicine in the UK isn’t the right path. But if you’re genuinely passionate, I wouldn’t discourage anyone. People go in with naive expectations – thinking it’ll be like Grey’s Anatomy or just about saving lives. But there’s so much more to it that most people don’t see. It’s really about what they want out of life.”

Mahjabin feels that the pros ultimately outweigh the cons, although she has seen many people jumping ship. 

“It depends on what ‘worth it’ means to you. Yes, the pay is low and there are staffing and hierarchy issues, but I studied here, my family is here, and compared to blue-collar jobs, it still pays more. That said, many of my peers feel the opposite. Given the pressure and abuse we face, some don’t think it’s worth it anymore. A lot of people are stepping back, taking longer breaks, or leaving the profession altogether.”

It’s fair to say that the experience of being a doctor in the UK today is marked by contradictions. On one hand, it remains a deeply meaningful profession for some, offering the privilege of caring for others and working within a healthcare system founded on the values of compassion, dignity and inclusion. On the other hand, the realities of understaffing, burnout, strained resources, and pay disputes have led many to question whether the sacrifices are still worth it. 

For some, staying is an act of loyalty. For others, medicine has become a foundation for more flexible or alternative careers. Ultimately, being a doctor in the UK has become less of a settled identity and more of an ongoing negotiation between idealism and realism, purpose and self-preservation.