From Heart Surgery to Aesthetic Medicine: My Journey Over 12 Years

In 2014, I was 26 years old and had just started my surgical training. I was energetic, ambitious and completely in love with my craft. I was on my way to becoming a heart surgeon, and at that point I couldn’t really imagine doing anything else. I loved the long operating hours, the research, and I even loved fighting for the awards and opportunities that came with pursuing a competitive surgical career. When I look back at photographs of myself from that time, I feel proud of her.

Surgery is not subtly sexist. For over a year I ignored the bigotry and became one of a few women practicing heart surgery.

After the disruption of COVID, I returned to the normal training pathway and hospital rotations. In the middle of all of this, I became pregnant with my son, Max. I informed HR of my pregnancy and within two days, the hospital cancelled my contract by email and never heard from them again.

Eventually, I decided I had had enough. I left the NHS. Not because I believed I was incapable of continuing in surgery. It was a terrifying decision. I had no idea how to establish a business nor how to build a practice alone.

I have grown very proud of what we have achieved over the years. From the cult like impact of Fox Eyes to the shift towards skin tightening from dermal fillers and toxin.

Leaving was terrifying.

Medicine gives you a clearly defined road: you train, progress through increasingly senior positions and, if everything goes to plan, eventually arrive at the career you’ve spent years working towards. Stepping away from that road meant stepping into uncertainty. I didn’t have a roadmap for what came next. I didn’t have a group of mentors showing me how to build a completely different kind of medical career.

So I built one myself.

That journey eventually led me to aesthetic medicine and, ultimately, to building my own practice. It might look like an enormous departure from heart surgery, and in some respects, it is. But the longer I work in aesthetics, the more I realise that some of the motivation behind what I do hasn’t changed at all.

Aesthetics is frequently reduced to vanity. I don’t think that reflects the conversations I have with women every day. There is no shame in wanting the person you see in the mirror to feel aligned with your self perception. That doesn’t mean every insecurity needs treating. It doesn’t mean a cosmetic procedure can manufacture confidence, and responsible aesthetic medicine should never pretend that it can. But it does mean that adults can make informed choices about their own appearance. For women in particular, those choices seem to attract an extraordinary amount of commentary.

We’re told to age naturally — but criticised for looking tired.

We’re encouraged to feel confident — but can be labelled vain if we change something that has bothered us.

We’re told not to care what other people think about our appearance while simultaneously living in a culture that pays enormous attention to it. There is a strange contradiction in all of this.

I don’t believe wanting an aesthetic treatment automatically means somebody dislikes themselves. Sometimes the motivation is much simpler: this is how I see myself, and I’d like my appearance to reflect that. For me, that distinction matters. Good aesthetic medicine isn’t about imposing one idea of beauty on everybody who walks through the door. Nor should it be about persuading somebody that they have flaws that need correcting. It should begin with listening.

What bothers this person?

Why does it bother them?

What are they hoping to achieve?

Is treatment appropriate?

And sometimes, importantly, is the right answer not to treat at all?

That is where I believe being a doctor matters. The aim isn’t transformation for transformation’s sake. It’s to understand the individual sitting in front of you and, where appropriate, help them make a safe and informed choice about their appearance.

Almost everything.

At 26, I was building a career in heart surgery and learning how to hold my own as “the girl” in the operating room. Today, I’m a mother, a doctor and the founder of my own aesthetic practice. The setting has changed dramatically. But perhaps my motivation hasn’t changed as much as I once thought.

Back then, I was learning how to occupy spaces in which women weren’t always expected to belong. Today, I spend much of my working life with women who want to feel confident occupying their own spaces — professionally, socially and personally.

I don’t think women need permission to decide what they should look like. And I don’t believe choosing to change something about your appearance makes you less intelligent, less serious, less feminist or less comfortable in your own skin. Sometimes it’s simply a choice. And having the agency to make that choice matters.

Twelve years later, that’s probably the biggest thing I’ve learned.

Considering aesthetic treatment?
My approach begins with a consultation to understand what you would like to change, why, and whether treatment is appropriate for you. You can learn more about my approach and the treatments available at SAS Aesthetics.