Mangatjay McGregor is starring in an extraordinary scene on the fifth floor of the Royal Darwin Hospital.

Key points: Mangatjay McGregor graduated with a degree in clinical science and a doctor of medicine in December

Mangatjay McGregor graduated with a degree in clinical science and a doctor of medicine in December It's believed he is the first Yolngu person, from north-east Arnhem land, to become a medical doctor

It's believed he is the first Yolngu person, from north-east Arnhem land, to become a medical doctor He hopes to specialise in paediatrics and child psychiatry in the future

The first-year doctor is talking to the family of eight-year-old patient Tyson Pascoe, who lies in bed grinning, hoodie up and eating a biscuit.

The setting would be routine, particularly in a hospital, if not for one defining element: all are speaking Yolngu-Matha, the major dialect used among Yolngu people from north-east Arnhem land.

Seven months ago, Dr McGregor swapped his scrubs and stethoscope for graduation robes and a mortarboard, and walked on stage at the Adelaide Convention Centre.

Cheers erupted in the back row, and later others said his family was the loudest of all who attended the Flinders University graduation ceremony.

While the 26-year-old could hear their yells, he said it took a few more weeks for the weight of the moment to register. He had became, it is believed, the first Yolngu man to ever receive a medical degree.

"It's scary being the first of anything," Dr McGregor said.

"I think if you're the first of anything you have a certain expectation of yourself, but also it's kind of nerve-wracking because no one has done it before you."

But any signs of nerves are gone as he speaks to Tyson, who comes from the remote community of Ramingining, not far from the island community of Milingimbi where Dr McGregor grew up.

Although the eight-year-old is no stranger to the hospital, it's the first time a doctor has spoken to him in his first language.

Doctor Mangatjay McGregor, patient Tyson Pascoe, his mum Karen Durrurrnga and grandma Jenny Malibirr. ( ABC News: Emily Smith )

From an island community to Adelaide

When Dr McGregor was born 26 years ago, his Aboriginal mother Sabrina Gurruwiwi and Caucasian father Scott McGregor were teenagers.

Given their youth, it was mostly his dad's parents — Marilyn and Gerard "Bluey" McGregor — who raised him, in their elevated house in Milingimbi, an island community off Arnhem Land that he describes as having a lot of bushland, a beach dotted with mangroves and a "really peaceful" billabong.

They had come to the community from Melbourne in 1989 when his grandmother, whom he calls his momu, got a teaching job.

He said it was an excellent childhood, during which he learned about the Yolngu culture of his mother's family through school, and was part of the sort of tight-knit community that saw children from all over the island come over to play basketball in the afternoons.

"It was bilingual schooling. So sometimes we got to go out on excursions and learn about different traditional medicines and different bush foods," Dr McGregor said.

"I think that was fantastic. And I really value that.

"I know that a lot of other First Nations groups, they don't get that chance."

Ms McGregor said her grandson showed signs he would become a doctor from a young age.

Marilyn and Mangatjay McGregor lived together for years during his childhood. ( ABC News: Emily Smith )

"Right from the start he loved maths," she said.

"And then when he started talking about what he'd like to be, it was a brain surgeon.

Dr McGregor moved to Darwin for high school and lived briefly with his dad before moving in with his aunt and uncle.

Although he got the marks to begin his degree at Flinders University, during those final years of secondary school he began to struggle with mental illness.

'It absolutely changed my life'

Relentless anxiety plagued Dr McGregor for years.

It left him constantly exhausted but unable to sleep, and he said at times, if left untreated, the anxiety could morph into depression.

His first steps to managing those symptoms came with exercise, which at times saw him running the streets of Adelaide in the middle of the night.

"If I can't sleep and I'm just lying there I figure, why not do something that will make me feel better?" he said.

He also began seeing a psychologist through an Aboriginal Health Service, which he said helped.

But the biggest help was learning meditation.

"I think that has been the single biggest thing that has cut through the anxiety," he said.

"It absolutely changed my life."

He said while managing his anxiety would be a lifelong battle, it had gotten easier, and he now had far more time when he was symptom-free.

Mangatjay McGregor at his graduation with mother Sabrina Gurruwiwi (left), auntie Natasha, cousin Holly (right) and her daughter Marley. ( Supplied: Mangatjay McGregor )

"I know that it's a temporary thing," he said.

"And just simply by telling myself that and maybe doing all the things that help, like exercise and meditation and stuff, it really works."

Given the intensity of Dr McGregor's six-year medical program, which his struggles with anxiety then pushed out to eight, he had limited extra time to earn money.

A couple of scholarships helped him through the initial period, as well as funding from Centrelink's AbStudy and support from his mum in the first year.

In the later years of his degree he also tutored other students at the university, through its Indigenous tutorial assistance scheme.

He said the scheme was fantastic, because it saw First Nations students get a number of hours worth of free tutoring and gave the tutors the opportunity to earn money from the university.

"I think that's a really special thing and I think there needs to be more of that," he said.

"I think just … seeing other First Nations students and what they are capable of and what they are achieving is really inspirational."

The importance of culture

Asked why he thought no other Yolngu people had become medical doctors before him, Dr McGregor said it probably "wasn't a priority".

"University I don't think is at this stage is really much of a thing for our people," he said.

"One, because we traditionally didn't have university systems; we had other ways of passing on knowledge and surviving, so I guess there's that.

"Also, just socio-economic things — so people not having a lot of money, coming from unstable upbringings, they may not even see finishing school as a possibility, let alone university."

He attributed his own success to a love of learning taught to him by his grandmothers, on both his mother's and father's side.

Mangatjay McGregor wears Yolngu adornments over his graduation robes. ( Supplied: Mangatjay McGregor )

He also pointed out that other people in his family had gone to university.

He said that while "you don't have to go to university to be successful", he hoped to see the day when every person in Australia finished high school and had the opportunity to get a degree.

But one of the most beneficial aspects of his upbringing, he said, was having the chance to know his culture.

"I had the benefit of knowing that part of me," he said. "Knowing my Yolngu side and growing up with that was very important."

"I think you suffer sort of feeling lost in your life if you don't know who you are and you don't ever get that opportunity to find out."

He said the benefits of knowing the Yolngu language and culture were obvious to him every day, given that the high number of patients he treated were from Arnhem Land.

"As soon as they hear that I'm Yolngu and that I can speak language, it's almost like a tension in the patient drops and they just relax," he said.

"I've even observed this not just in Aboriginal patients. I had a recent experience where I was talking to a German patient. I don't know very much German at all, but she was quite one-worded with her responses and she seemed quite anxious.

"And then I just spoke a couple of sentences of German, and just like that her face just lit up and was speaking full sentences and it was almost like we were buddies.

"It's a powerful thing — language and culture is a powerful thing."

'We are all bursting with pride'

It was around the time of his graduation — when he received his bachelor of clinical science and doctor of medicine degrees — that Dr McGregor started wondering whether he was the first Yolngu doctor.

So he asked around a number of aunties and various elders and they said there were no others.

The ABC contacted a number of organisations — including Flinders University, the NT Health Department, Danila Dilba Health Service and Aboriginal Medical Services Alliance Northern Territory — and while they could not confirm Dr McGregor was the first Yolngu doctor, as there is no official register, they could not name any others.

Dr McGregor's auntie, Nadyezhda Pozzana, from the Djambarrpuyngu clan at Galiwinku, said "all Yolngu people know each other" and they were sure he was the first Yolngu medical doctor in history.

"We [Yolngu people] are all bursting in pride," she said.

She said she hoped others in the community would see his success and be inspired to go on to become lawyers, doctors, teachers or whatever they wanted.

Mangatjay McGregor's mum Sabrina Gurruwiwi says she is very proud of him. ( ABC News: Emily Smith )

His mother Sabrina Gurruwiwi said she had always known he was on track to be the first medical doctor.

"Everybody talks about it quite a lot and are very, very proud," she said.

"I'm so proud of him. With all the hardship that he'd gone though and just to see him become what he's become. Very proud mother."

'There's always more to be done'

By Mr McGregor's calculations, he will be 37-years-old before he is qualified in his two preferred specialties — paediatrics and psychiatry, specialising in child and adolescent mental health.

When he has completed training he hopes to return to his hometown of Milingimbi for a while, setting up prevention programs and putting his fluency in two Yolngu dialects to good use.

Doctor Mangatjay McGregor plays PlayStation with Grayson Ryan at the Royal Darwin Hospital. ( ABC News )

"But I think that I probably won't live there consistently for the rest of my life once I finish my training, because there's always new things to learn," he said.

"So I'll probably end up visiting a lot of communities, a lot of cities, trying to better myself and the health of our people.

"There's always more to be done."

For now, Dr McGregor is happy to kick back and play a game of PlayStation with fellow Milingimbi boy and Royal Darwin Hospital patient Grayson Ryan.