Dr Sameer Edun

When the government says, "We're in the same boat."

To my dear patients and everyone who has been reaching out to me during my stay in India — thank you for your love, patience, and constant support. ❤️

Due to an extension of my stay for ongoing responsibilities and commitments here, I will now be resuming consultations and work on the 19th May.

During my absence, Dr Kholeegan will continue attending patients as usual, ensuring that everyone receives the care and attention they deserve.

Being away from my patients is never easy for me, because medicine is not just my profession, it is a responsibility I carry deeply in my heart. Your messages, prayers, and trust mean more than words can express.

I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience caused and I truly appreciate the understanding shown by each and every one of you. I look forward to seeing you all again very soon, stronger, refreshed, and ready to continue caring for you with the same dedication and compassion.

Dear Families of Patients… 💛
Have you ever realized
that some of the strongest people in the room…
are not the ones receiving treatment?

To many, you are just “relatives” waiting outside.
Sitting quietly. Watching. Hoping.
But what they don’t see
is the weight you carry every single day.
They don’t see the way you hide your fear,
just to look strong for someone you love.

They don’t hear the questions running in your mind:
“Are they okay? Is this working? What happens next?”

They don’t see how you memorize every detail
appointments, instructions, medications
just to make things a little easier for them.
You stand in the background…
but your presence is everything.

You are the hand they hold before treatment.
The voice that says “It will be okay.”
Even when your heart is breaking in silence.

You celebrate the smallest improvements
like they are miracles…
because to you, they are.
And on the hardest days
when fear is louder than hope
you still choose to stay.
Not everyone will see your strength.
Not everyone will understand your role.
But without you…
this journey would be unbearable.

So to every family member
parents, partners, siblings, friends
If no one told you this today…
you are doing more than enough.

And even when you feel like you’re falling apart…
you are still someone’s reason to keep fighting.🙏😍😇👏🏻

There are moments in this profession that go beyond duty, moments that remind me why I chose this path. Today, I step away briefly from my clinic, not to rest, but to stand beside a patient who needs me during one of the most important journeys of their life.
While I accompany them to India for their surgical care, I leave you in the safe and capable hands of Dr Kholeegan, who will be there to continue your care with the same dedication and compassion.

To all my patients, thank you for your trust, your patience, and the bond we share. It is never easy to be away from you, even for a short while, but this is part of the commitment I carry for every life I’m entrusted with.

I will be resuming consultations on the 8th of May at 5pm. Until then, take care of yourselves and your loved ones. Your health remains my priority, always.
With gratitude and respect,
Dr Sameer Edun

Late night acupuncture and cupping session for the treatment of lower back ache with sciatica.

Most people don’t remember this day.
Most people were never even told the full story.
Because history is not written by the brave. It is written by the powerful.

23 September 2009.
At the world’s most guarded podium, Muammar Gaddafi walked into the United Nations General Assembly and did what no African leader had dared to do in that room of global hypocrisy.

He did not come to impress.
He did not come to beg.
He did not come to be accepted.

He came to confront.

And in front of presidents, kings, diplomats, and global elites, he tore the UN Charter.
Not as theatre.
Not as madness.
But as a message.

Behind him sat Ban Ki-moon and General Assembly President Ali Treki, the faces of an institution that preaches equality while enforcing power.
The papers fell behind the podium like a quiet indictment:
your rules mean nothing when the powerful write them and the weak die by them.

He called the UN Security Council what few dare to call it:
not a council of peace, but a council of terror.
Not guardians of humanity, but guardians of Western power.

He exposed the veto system as political feudalism.
Five countries crowned as permanent kings.
Deciding the fate of the entire world.
Wars approved.
Sanctions imposed.
Nations punished.
All by a minority ruling over the majority.

He demanded its annulment.
Because sovereignty cannot exist where some nations are born masters and others are sentenced to obedience.

They gave him 15 minutes.
He took more than 100.
Because truth does not ask permission from empire.

He demanded reparations for Africa’s centuries of exploitation, robbery, and destruction.
He asked why colonizers speak of democracy but never of accountability.
He questioned why Africa remains rich in resources but poor in power.

He asked why some lives are mourned and others are statistics.
Why some conflicts are called “humanitarian crises” and others are ignored.
Why international law exists only when convenient.

He spoke about manufactured conflicts.
Selective justice.
Biological warfare.
False flags.
Political assassinations.
Sanctions that kill millions without a single bullet fired.

He spoke of how global institutions punish the weak and negotiate with the strong.
How dictators are enemies only when they refuse obedience.
How freedom becomes a weapon when controlled by power.

They called his defiance unacceptable.
Not the illegal wars.
Not the destruction of sovereign nations.
Not the coups, the proxy wars, the mass graves.
Not the sanctions that starved generations.

No.
What was unacceptable…
was an African leader refusing to bow.

That day he did not tear paper.
He tore illusion.
He tore diplomacy without justice.
He tore the mask of a system built to manage oppression, not end it.

And whether you agreed with him or not, one thing became clear:
The most dangerous man in a room is not the loudest.
It is the one who refuses fear.

Because power does not fear weapons.
Power fears exposure.

That day, he reminded the world of something dangerous:
If global institutions truly served justice, they would not fear the truth.
They would fear accountability.

And history has shown, again and again,
those who speak too much truth to power rarely die peacefully.

The system does not forgive defiance.
It erases it.

RULES ARE RULES.

We are not losing doctors to money.
We are losing them to emotional exhaustion.

A few years ago, a fellow in my unit quit medicine.

Top ranker. Gold medalist. Brilliant hands.

He did not fail.

He walked away.

He joined an MBA program.

When I asked him why, he said something I will never forget:

“Sir, I can handle long hours. I cannot handle losing people and then being blamed for it.”

Another story.

A junior doctor I knew did not quit.

He died.

By su***de.

After months of relentless ICU duty, litigation threats from a patient’s family, and public humiliation on social media.

There was no headline.

No panel discussion.

No prime-time outrage.

Just a quiet funeral.

And a department that moved on the next morning.

A third one.

A surgeon in his 40s. Successful. Established.

One complication.

Not negligence. Not recklessness. A complication.

It spiraled into legal notices, online abuse, and political interference.

He now runs a wellness retreat in the hills.

He says he sleeps better.

He says he feels lighter.

He says he does not miss the operating room.

That sentence should terrify us.

We keep telling ourselves the system is fine.

It is not.

Across Mauritius. Across India. Across the the world.

Doctors are leaving clinical medicine.

Some go into administration.

Some into startups.

Some into pharma.

Some into tech.

Some into complete silence.

And some into graves.

We do not talk about that enough.

Medicine demands competence.

But it survives on emotional resilience.

And that resilience is being crushed.

Not just by workload.

By distrust.

By constant suspicion.

By the assumption that if an outcome is bad, someone must be guilty.

By the idea that doctors must be perfect in an imperfect biological system.

We are trained to fight death.

We are not trained to fight public outrage every time biology wins.

Here is what scares me.

When the doctors leave, it is not dramatic.

It is silent.

Residency seats go vacant.

Departments become transactional.

Young doctors stop taking high-risk cases.

Defensive medicine rises.

Compassion shrinks.

Risk-taking disappears.

And slowly, the system becomes average.

Not because doctors became less capable.

Because they became less willing.

I have seen brilliant residents say:

“I would rather build a company.”

“I would rather do consulting.”

“I would rather move abroad.”

“I would rather do anything but this.”

These are not lazy people.

They are tired people.

Tired of carrying outcomes that were never fully in their control.

Tired of being heroes in pandemics and villains in peacetime.

Tired of being called greedy for charging fees that barely match the emotional cost.

And when a doctor dies by su***de, the conversation lasts 48 hours.

Then we return to normal.

As if nothing is wrong.

But something is very wrong.

Because when healers start breaking at scale, it is not an individual weakness.

It is systemic strain.

If you are a doctor reading this, you know.

You know the quiet replay after a bad case.

You know the insomnia.

You know the smile you wear in front of patients.

You know the fear of one mistake defining your career.

You know the emotional math you do every night.

Stay or leave.

Fight or fold.

Care deeply or detach completely.

We are not losing doctors because they cannot survive medicine.

We are losing them because medicine is becoming emotionally unsafe.

And when that happens, the cost is not borne by doctors alone.

It is borne by society.

Because the next generation is watching.

And they are asking a simple question:

“Is this worth it?”

If the answer becomes no…

the shortage will not be numerical.

It will be moral.

Doctors are not murderers.

They are humans who are burning out quietly.

And unless we acknowledge that truth, the system will keep losing its best people.



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𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫s 𝐨𝐟 '𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐬' & 'Dear People, With Love And Care, Your Doctors'