Anyone with access to Google will be able to tell you that doctors are among the most well-paid professionals. The first results that pop up tell you how many GPs are earning more than £100,000 per year, or that David Cameron is less well-remunerated than doctors in the NHS.

I have just started my second year as a qualified doctor and the reality is quite different. There’s no questioning that we are well-paid (an annual salary for someone at my stage would normally be £35,000 to £40,000) – but it’s what do we have to do to earn our money. I live with two of my friends who I went to secondary school with, neither of whom work in a medical specialty. They both work in the City with jobs that allow them to be home to watch Pointless and they both earn a similar amount of money to me.

What’s the difference then? Why is it that the majority of doctors don’t leave on time? Simply because medicine is unpredictable and there is no telling if today will be a busy day or not. There’s no way of knowing if your patients are all going to stay stable, or if there is an imminent major disaster with all casualties needing immediate medical assessment and treatment – and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The lack of predictability is what makes being a doctor exciting and challenging, and I suspect this is the thing that the majority of doctors enjoy most about their jobs.

However, there is a big ‘but’ to this. I do not think there has been one day when I have worked my contracted hours. I have spent entire four-month rotations working 11-12 hour days and if I leave by 7.30pm, then I’ve done well. I am so engrossed in how much there is to do, I forget about the hours I am working, whether I’ve eaten or even had a glass of water.

Recently, one of my patient’s wives asked me, “Do you ever leave?”

“Well,” I thought, “I suppose to you it seems that I don’t.” I arrive at 7.45am (well before visiting time starts), I’m around on the wards all day and leave after visiting time ends at 8pm. But my sugar-starved brain couldn’t muster such a cohesive answer.

“I will,” I reply.

“Have you eaten?”

“Actually, no. I haven’t eaten since yesterday,” I think.

“I will,” I reply again.

“I’ll bring you some food tomorrow. I make nice pakoras, you’ll like those.”

Apart from this being a wonderful demonstration of genuine kindness, it was a moment of realisation. Maybe it isn’t okay to stay late every day; maybe I am being taken advantage of. Throughout my (admittedly so far short) career, I see examples of this every day; nurses staying one to two hours late to complete their documentation, doctors staying late to take care of their sick patients – it seems to be ingrained in the culture of the NHS.

With tuition fees of £9,000 and a possible total university debt of £60,000 for medical students, it’s obvious to me that if you’re an intelligent, prospective student and want to make money, medicine isn’t the way forward. However, if you want the unpredictability, the highs and the lows, then apply – but when you get here, don’t expect to be paid for all the hours that you work.

If you would like to write a blogpost for Views from the NHS frontline, then please read our guidelines and get in touch by emailing healthcare@theguardian.com.

Are you a member of our online community? Join the Healthcare Professionals Network to receive regular emails and exclusive offers.

Read more like this