I’ve been reminiscing about my first year as a doctor recently, perhaps because we have been joined by the graduates who will be taking over from us in the coming days.

An entire year as almost passed; one of the hardest years of my life is almost over. People try to prepare you for the sheer change in calibre that comes with becoming a doctor. I was fortunate enough to have a head start due to the pandemic – but we still had people to shadow and seek advice from. The truth is, my responsibility didn’t feel real until the day that I didn’t have anyone to follow around anymore – until I was the one left standing, trying to decide what to do.

A natural side effect of progression is that many people forget where they came from, or how they felt on the journey. This is classically seen in scenarios where adults are unable to comprehend or empathise with teenagers. Despite my best efforts, I am slowly beginning to forget what it felt like to feel panicked by everyday hospital occurrences. However, this makes me even more determined to provide ample support for the fresh faces that seem to display many of the facial expressions I have ceased to show over the past year.

Being a doctor is hard. Being a doctor in a global pandemic is even harder. I cannot imagine how it feels to have your education compromised, despite the best efforts of your school or university, and then be asked to take over as usual, convincing yourself that Zoom lessons amount to real classroom learning.

I look at our new doctors with a sense of admiration, because I’m not convinced I would be able to embark on such a feat of resilience having had my training turned upside down. However, people often achieve things they thought impossible, simply by taking each day as it comes. Those days add up to weeks, the weeks add up to months, and one day suddenly, you realise that you have not only survived, but thrived, during another turn around the sun.