When your head says yes but your body says no: my transition from radiographer to lecturer

Facing reality

There came a point when I had to confront a difficult truth: continuing in a physically demanding clinical role might compromise my long-term health. That realisation was not just practical – it was emotional. Radiography was more than a job; it was my professional identity.

Healthcare professionals are often defined by what they do. I was a radiographer – it was how I introduced myself. It was the training I had invested in, the skills I had refined and the patients I had supported. Letting go of clinical practice felt, at first, like a loss. There was frustration. There was grief. There was also fear – of starting again, of being perceived as stepping back or of losing credibility within a profession I deeply respected.

Yet beneath that uncertainty was another truth: my experience still had value. If I could no longer practise in the same way, perhaps I could contribute differently. Throughout my clinical career, I have always enjoyed working with students. I found satisfaction in explaining imaging principles, breaking down positioning challenges and helping learners connect theory to practice. When the possibility of lecturing emerged, it didn’t feel like abandoning radiography – it felt like a new opportunity to use my skills and knowledge.

Transitioning into academia required adjustment. The pace was different. The challenges were intellectual rather than physical. Lesson planning replaced list management. Assessment design replaced exposure selection. But I quickly realised something important: education is not separate from clinical practice. It underpins it. Every competent radiographer begins in a classroom.

Moving into a lecturer role required me to reframe how I saw myself. I was no longer the practitioner positioning patients in theatre or undergoing trauma imaging. Instead, I was preparing students to step confidently into those spaces.

My clinical experience – including my physical challenges – became part of my teaching. I speak openly about ergonomics, manual handling and the physical realities of radiography. I emphasise sustainability in practice, not only for patient safety but for practitioner longevity.

In many ways, developing thoracic outlet syndrome has made me a more conscious educator. I understand firsthand the importance of protecting one’s body in a profession that often prioritises patient needs above all else.

Radiography is evolving. So too must radiographers. Career pathways are rarely linear. Some transitions are chosen; others are imposed by circumstance. What matters is not whether we remain in the exact role we began with, but whether we continue contributing to the profession in meaningful ways.

Healthcare professionals are accustomed to caring for others. We are less accustomed to acknowledging when we need to care for ourselves. Thoracic outlet syndrome forced that for me.