Built by Discipline, Carried by Hope

Like many Sudanese doctors and medical students, my journey has been full of setbacks and unexpected turns. Throughout my years in Sudan, I learned far more than medicine alone. I built dreams, questioned myself, grew, and slowly shaped an idea of the doctor I wanted to become—all while living through protests, instability, and repeated interruptions to everyday life.

When the war began, I felt frozen. Paralyzed. Not because I lacked motivation, but because so much suddenly became out of reach. Degrees were delayed, plans collapsed, and the future felt suspended in uncertainty. Although I was among the few who managed to leave Sudan before the war erupted, I had not anticipated it. There was no time to prepare emotionally, professionally, or practically for what would follow.

After graduation, I faced rejection after rejection. At first, it felt deeply personal. Later, I realized this is often the reality of postgraduate life—when your perspective shifts, when effort does not always translate into immediate success, and when you learn that progress is rarely linear. It was never about perfect grades or flawless timelines. It was about endurance.

Eventually, I reached a turning point. I stopped resisting the delays. I accepted uncertainty. I learned that not every rejection is an ending—sometimes it is a redirection, even if it doesn’t feel like one at the time.

Recently, I started working a part-time job—my first role outside the medical field. It was a humbling experience in ways I did not expect. Stepping into a different kind of work gave me perspective and reminded me how fortunate I have been to pursue medicine, even through uncertainty and delay. It made me reflect deeply on the support I received along the way, particularly from my family, whose belief in me never wavered. That experience strengthened my gratitude—not only for the career I am building, but for the privilege of continuing to chase a dream I genuinely love.

Yes, I faced refusals, lost time, and repeated barriers after leaving my country. But I also gained resilience, clarity, and a quieter kind of strength. Today, I feel relief more than frustration, and contentment more than urgency.

I am proud to say that I completed my internship despite the obstacles, attained my degrees, and began my journey with the Royal College of Pediatrics and Child Health. I am now very close to obtaining my GMC registration—something that once felt impossibly distant. More importantly, I no longer feel that my life is on hold. I am exploring opportunities openly, without fear of delay or rejection, and without postponing my growth while waiting for the “perfect” moment.

This journey has taught me patience, humility, and trust in timing. I am still becoming—but I am no longer stuck.