Surgeon and Emotional Detachment
I rarely sit down to reflect on my residency. Not because I donāt want toābut because thereās almost never time. And maybe, deep down, I also feel that not many people are really curious about what itās like to become a surgeon.
Still, maybe writing this is just my way of breathing for a moment. If it feels too personal, feel free to skip itāthis is just one small story among many. So⦠what does it actually feel like to be a surgeon?
Iām in my final year of training in thoracic and cardiovascular surgery. And the more I learn, the more I realize how much I still donāt know.
At its core, being a surgeon means being trusted at someoneās most vulnerable moment.
From the outside, it may look prestigious. But from the inside, it often feels like carrying something heavyāquietly. Every surgery is a turning point. A patient and their family place their trust in us, sometimes without really knowing who we are. In that moment, they allow us to take control over something deeply personal: their own body.
That kind of trust changes you...
People sometimes say surgeons have two sides. One is just⦠us. Normal, imperfect, human. The other feels more distantāquieter, harder to read. Sometimes even ācold," and I used to wonder about that.
But during residency, I began to understand. Itās not about becoming cold. Itās about learning how to step back from your emotions when the situation demands it.
Emotional detachment is not something I had early on. In fact, I only started to understand it after years of being a doctor. Itās like developing a switchānot something youāre born with, but something slowly built through experience.
When we enter the operating room, that switch often turns on. We scrub in. We wear the gown, the gloves. Everything becomes focused.
The person lying in front of us⦠they might be someoneās father, mother, partner, or child. And we know that. But at the same time, we have to set that awareness asideājust enough to do what needs to be done. Because in that moment, what matters is precision. Steady hands. Clear thinking. Decisions made in seconds.
In cardiac surgery, that demand becomes even more intense. Sometimes, we are connecting blood vesselsāsomething called anastomosisāwhich requires extremely fine precision. Even a very small error can have serious consequences.
And occasionally, this is done while the heart is still beating. If I have to describe it simply: itās like trying to fix something while itās still moving. It doesnāt feel dramatic when youāre inside it. But it does demand your full attentionācompletely.
But hereās something important. Stepping back from emotion doesnāt mean we donāt care. It doesnāt mean we lose empathy. If anything, itās the opposite. That distance is what allows us to function. To stay steady. To keep showing up, day after day, for people who need us at their most critical moments.
Itās not about becoming less human. Itās about learning how to carry emotion in a way that doesnāt interfere with doing our job well. And maybe thatās one of the quiet lessons of this journey.
Not how to feel lessā but how to hold those feelings, without letting them take over.













