Intro To The Face of Medicine Book
- Melis Binbas
- Apr 1
- 4 min read
Updated: Aug 24
There are moments in life when you realise, you’re standing at a crossroads. For me, that moment wasn’t marked by some grand cinematic epiphany, nor was there an orchestral swell in the background. No, my moment came in the form of my mother crying down the phone while I sat in a hospital corridor at the peak of the Covid-19 pandemic, sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and very much questioning all my life choices.
At that point, I was working as an NHS Foundation Doctor, caught in the relentless grind of hospital shifts, PPE rashes, and an ever-present sense of existential dread. I had spent years of my life hurtling towards this career, convinced that being a doctor would give me the deep sense of fulfilment we all hope for. And in many ways, it did. Medicine is beautiful, challenging, and profoundly meaningful. But there was something missing—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on until I found myself staring into the mirror one evening, eyeing the premature frown lines forming on my forehead, courtesy of perpetual stress and dehydration.
That was the first time it really hit me: I was exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally. And the worst part? I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn’t fully in control of my own life.
They don’t warn you about that in medical school.
Most doctors are so used to running on fumes that they don’t question it. The long shifts, the emotional toll, the constant battle to keep up with an overstretched system—it’s all just part of the package. You push through, you bury the exhaustion under caffeine and duty, and you tell yourself you’ll rest when you retire.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice kept whispering: Is this it?
I wanted more. Not in the shallow, materialistic sense, but in the sense of wanting to create something that felt like mine. I longed for the freedom to shape my career, to blend medicine with creativity, to wake up excited about the day ahead instead of dreading my alarm.
The answer, as it turns out, arrived in the form of a casual text message from a friend:
“Hey Melis, there’s an open event for doctors interested in Aesthetics. Want to check it out?”
At the time, I barely knew what aesthetics entailed beyond a vague association with Botox and wealthy housewives. I had a FIT-testing appointment that day (a deeply unglamorous NHS rite of passage involving masks, plastic hoods, and something that smells suspiciously like vinegar). So, naturally, I ignored the invite.
But a couple of weeks later, a pamphlet landed on my doorstep. Out of curiosity, I flipped it open—and there it was.
Aesthetics. The perfect fusion of science and artistry. A field where precision meets creativity. A medical specialty that wasn’t confined to hospital walls but instead existed in sleek clinics, empowering patients and practitioners alike.
For the first time in years, something clicked.
From that moment on, I dove headfirst into learning everything I could about the industry. Between my shifts, I devoured every book, attended every conference, and shamelessly slid into the DMs of established practitioners, asking every question under the sun. I took courses, built connections, and slowly started to realise that aesthetics wasn’t just about injecting filler into lips—it was about confidence, empowerment, and, perhaps most excitingly, autonomy.
Unlike traditional medical careers, where your path is dictated by rigid training programmes and endless exams, aesthetics offered something radical: choice. I could choose when I worked, where I worked, and with whom. I could build something from the ground up, something that belonged to me. And the best part? I didn’t have to abandon medicine entirely. I found a way to blend my aesthetics career with my role as a GP, proving that you don’t have to choose one or the other—you can create a career that works for you.
And that’s exactly why I wrote this book.
When I started my journey, there was no comprehensive guide. No single resource that answered all my questions. Instead, I had to piece everything together through trial and error, relying on the generosity of mentors and the occasional stroke of luck. Think of this book as an “Aesthetics for Dummies”. It offers insight from an extremely basic level, and encompasses everything I wish I knew when I first started.
It’s for the medical student who’s already questioning whether ward rounds are truly their destiny. It’s for the junior doctor who loves medicine but wants to explore other avenues. It’s for the nurse, the dentist, the surgeon, the curious, the ambitious, and even the sceptical.
Because here’s the truth:
The aesthetics industry is growing at a pace that no one can ignore. Social media has transformed the beauty landscape, making treatments more accessible and desirable than ever before. Patients are savvier, more educated, and actively seeking qualified professionals to help them feel their best.
And if you’re here, reading this, then something inside you is already intrigued. Whatever the reason, I want you to know this: you have options.
The NHS is an incredible institution, and for many, it will always be home. But it is not the only path. You are not limited to a single career trajectory just because that’s what medical school prepared you for. You can carve your own path. You can create a career that aligns with your passions, and goals.
It won’t be easy. It will take work, patience, and an unwavering belief in yourself. So let’s begin.
