Why I’m striking in the middle of a winter flu crisis

Drowning in ‘superflu’ cases, burned out and losing the battle for public opinion with the health secretary, Holly Tarn explains why resident doctors like her are still choosing to walk out tomorrow

Another week as a newly minted doctor, and another war of words with our health secretary.

The next wave of strike action is set to begin tomorrow, with 83 per cent of doctors voting in favour of the strikes. My morale couldn’t be lower.

I started working as a doctor four months ago. The work is relentless. Yesterday, I could hear my first patient’s sputum rattling in his chest before I even entered the room. As I did, he locked eyes with me, and for reasons I still can’t explain, I didn’t look away as thick green sputum was delivered into a sick bowl between us. The moment of intensity subsided as he began to explain how it was the nurses who were making him ill.

They were giving him the wrong medicines, he said. I listened carefully, as his theory expanded, eventually landing on why he would never have a vaccine. He simply didn’t trust it. Another flu-positive, unvaccinated patient who will likely be with us for days, if not weeks.

Beyond the ward, the emergency department is buckling in step with frontline NHS services across the UK. Influenza rates are double those seen at this time last year. In an effort to relieve pressure on A&E, flu-positive patients are frequently transferred to respiratory wards – even when their primary problem is renal, cardiac, or something else entirely. The result is an influx of flu into wards where patients are often especially vulnerable to chest infections.

Between “superflu”, fake news and fatigue, the hospital is on its knees. And the background hum of industrial action makes it harder still.

It was during this same week that Wes Streeting appeared on television to label doctors “moaning Minnies” and, my personal favourite, described the British Medical Association as an organisation of “juvenile delinquency”. I’m in my thirties. I have two children under five, both born during medical school. I returned six days after the birth of my second child because medical students do not receive maternity leave – for a degree I paid over £50,000 to study.

Since then, I’ve given up sleep, family time, and often my physical and mental wellbeing for patients and an institution I hold genuine care for. For context: I currently take home around £2,000 a month, almost half of which goes on childcare. In his words, we will “wreck Christmas”.

“Juvenile delinquent” felt personal.

As the resident doctor holding the medical bleep (a pager, in other words) overnight, I cover six wards – around 120 patients. If someone develops chest pain and a nurse suspects a myocardial infarction, it’s me who comes. On my first night, I received around 40 bleeps in the first three hours alone. The run of on-call nights is 8pm to 8.30am. Naps are officially encouraged, but between bleeps and emergency calls, sleep was mostly theoretical. This is why the term “junior doctor” has always been a misnomer, and why many of us now prefer “resident doctor”. There is nothing junior about managing that volume of acute risk in the middle of the night.

We’re repeatedly told the public no longer backs doctors. I’m not surprised. The health secretary reminds us almost daily that doctors have received a 28 per cent pay rise and that reasonable solutions to the workforce crisis are on the table. Framed this way, it’s easy to see why support for strike action before Christmas, in the middle of a flu crisis, feels difficult to support.

But this framing relies on selective figures. What the public hears is not the full story. Statistics are being used to shape a narrative that redirects frustration towards doctors while quietly driving a wedge between doctors and their union. It’s a clever strategy – and in the short term, it’s working.

Take competition ratios, meaning the number of resident doctors applying for each training post. The government claims doctors face roughly two applicants per post. In reality, most entry-level speciality posts are oversubscribed at six to one or more. In the speciality I hope to enter, the ratio is closer to 27 to one – that is 27 doctors competing for a single training place.

The headline figure is dragged down by less competitive specialities, often entered later in a career. But to reach those roles, doctors must first clear these early, highly competitive bottlenecks. Quoting an average obscures the reality facing doctors trying to progress.

The same distortion applies to pay. The widely quoted 28 per cent rise ignores years of real-terms erosion and inflation. It was a starting point, not a settlement, and next year’s proposed increase would again fall below inflation, signalling the return of falling real pay.

Workforce plans fare no better. Proposals for 4,000 additional posts over three years fall far short when the shortfall is closer to 20,000. And while emergency legislation has been proposed to prioritise UK graduates, there is no clear plan for those due to enter training in 2026.

The public is told that a reasonable deal is being refused by unreasonable doctors. But the reality is simpler: doctors are burning out, and this offer does nothing to fix it. When Streeting says that “no amount of money can fix this”, it sounds a lot like blame-shifting. Investment in the workforce, fair pay, progression, and safe working conditions would go a long way.

Please support your doctors. We want to serve the public. We just don’t want to drown in the process.