In this interview, we have the privilege of speaking with Mr Mo Belal, a leading consultant urologist whose career and life took an extraordinary turn following a spinal injury. Renowned for his expertise and dedication to patient care, Mr Belal has faced profound personal and professional challenges with remarkable resilience.
Mo Belal.
His story is not only one of medical achievement but also of perseverance, adaptation and inspiration. In the following conversation, he reflects on his journey, the lessons he has learned, and the impact he hopes to make in medicine and beyond.
Personal journey resilience and clinical identity
Bushra Abdelqader: For those who may not know you – who is Mr Mo Belal?
Mo Belal: I was born in Walsall, near Birmingham, to parents who came to the UK as migrant workers in the 1960s and settled in the 1970s, a year before I was born. Despite a socially disadvantaged background (my mother could not read or write), I gained a scholarship to King Edward’s School in Birmingham before studying medicine at Cambridge. Although I had always aspired to surgery, I discovered urology by chance working as locum senior house officer in Northampton, where I was encouraged by Mark Sullivan to consider a career in urology. I pursued the specialty and was struck by the positivity of its practitioners. Later, during research in Bristol with Paul Abrams, I developed a lasting passion for functional and reconstructive urology, drawn to its intellectual and technical challenges, which I found deeply rewarding. I have been very fortunate to have many amazing mentors during my career in urology.
What did your professional and personal life look like prior to your injury?
Before my injury, life was extremely busy but fulfilling. I would wake up at 5am to exercise, then work long hours until the evening, six or seven days a week. It never felt like work because I enjoyed every aspect of it. I ran multiple NHS and private operating lists each week, in addition to conferences and research. At home, I had three young children, a supportive wife, and excellent colleagues at work. Just before the accident, my colleague Tom King had joined the team and we were excited about developing the service together.
Could you take us back to the early days following your accident, how did your mindset evolve during those initial weeks, and what did recovery mean to you at that time?
The first two weeks in the acute hospital were about survival. The spinal surgeon told me that someone in a similar position had walked again after two years, which made me realise that recovery would be measured in years, not weeks. The pain was severe, and I focused on taking one day at a time. Rehabilitation in the spinal unit meant pushing beyond comfort zones while trying to remain positive. Covid restrictions made it harder; my wife drove long distances under strict visiting rules, and I could not see my children for months. For the first time I felt truly vulnerable, but it gave me a deep appreciation of the compassion of staff and a new understanding of the impact healthcare professionals have on patients.
Equity, access and representation in the healthcare workforce
What has your journey revealed about the accessibility or inaccessibility of clinical roles for healthcare professionals who have additional access needs?
The system is designed with patients in mind, not healthcare professionals. There is considerable variation between trusts, depending on managers and local culture. I was fortunate to have supportive colleagues and a supportive trust, but this is not the case everywhere. Too often the NHS is bureaucratic and inflexible instead of problem-solving. For the workforce to truly reflect the patients it serves, it must include those with disabilities or long-term conditions.
In your view, what are the key structural or cultural changes that need to happen to make the medical profession more inclusive?
Accessibility should be designed into hospitals and theatres from the outset, but cultural change is more important. Mindset determines whether barriers are addressed. One example is attitudes to colleagues who are unwell or absent: healthcare professionals are compassionate to patients but often less so to each other. That culture must change.
Do you believe that having visible role models such as yourself within consultant-level roles can help reshape expectations for future generations?
Yes. Change takes time, but visible role models show that it is possible. I am grateful to be in a position where others can see that, despite disability, a fulfilling career in surgery is achievable.
Resilience, vulnerability and wellbeing
Resilience is often described in abstract terms. How would you define it now, having lived through such a significant shift?
For me, resilience means not giving up. Life has highs and lows, and you learn most from the difficult times. It is normal to feel upset or vulnerable, but the key is to get back up and keep going. The outcome matters less than the willingness to try again.
What emotional or psychological strategies helped sustain your identity through the uncertainty of recovery?
I approached recovery in three ways: physical, mental and spiritual. Physically, I committed to hours of rehabilitation daily. Mentally, I celebrated small victories and focused on positivity. Spiritually, my faith reminded me that life is a test and that patience and gratitude are essential. I also realised how much of my identity was tied to being a surgeon. Losing that was devastating but gave me the drive to return. Ultimately, my greatest strength came from social capital: the support of my family, friends, colleagues and patients.
The culture of surgery often rewards stoicism. How did you find space for vulnerability, and what role does it play in healing?
In the past, vulnerability was not discussed in surgery and mental health was ignored. That is changing, but more safe spaces are needed for surgeons to talk openly. Departments must create positive environments where people can be honest and supportive. Vulnerability is part of being human and recognising it helps build stronger teams and better care.
Were there particular relationships that were pivotal in supporting your mental wellbeing?
My wife was the central support. She is a clinical psychologist and the true heroine of my story. Alongside her, my children, extended family, colleagues and friends all played crucial roles. I was fortunate to have so much support.
How has your approach to wellbeing evolved since returning to theatre?
I now focus on balance. Every two to three months I take a week away from work to focus on rehabilitation and wellbeing. Before my injury, I never paced myself, but I now recognise that sustainability requires self-care. Surgeons often neglect their own health, but longevity in a career depends on it.
What systemic changes would you like to see across the NHS to improve psychological safety and wellbeing?
There should be greater access to psychological support for staff, including clinical psychologists. Return-to-work processes need more flexibility, as rigid short deadlines deter people from coming back. Education on supporting colleagues must also be strengthened. Change will take time, but it must begin now.
Technology, leadership and legacy
Are there particular gaps in medical training or surgical ergonomics that could better account for neurodiversity, mobility challenges or physical variation among clinicians?
Yes. Instruments are often designed only for right-handed use, and technology should account for differences such as adapting foot-operated controls for those who cannot use their feet. Many of these adjustments are simple but would make surgery more inclusive.
Has your lived experience shaped your leadership style?
It has made me a more patient listener and more reflective. My positive traits have been strengthened and some negative ones diminished. In leadership I now place greater emphasis on understanding others’ perspectives and always putting patients at the centre of decision-making.
As a trustee of Horatio’s Garden, how do you see empathy, environment and dignity intersecting in recovery – for both patients and clinicians?
Hospitals can feel sterile and draining, but access to outdoor spaces, natural light and gardens improves wellbeing for patients and staff alike. The environment has a major impact on attitudes and mental health, and investing in it benefits everyone.
What message would you offer to a junior doctor or medical student navigating unexpected adversity?
Never give up. Challenges may feel overwhelming, but they pass, and things will be better. With time, you see the lessons learned. Struggles give greater value to your achievements, and that is what going through a challenging time is. Remember why you entered medicine: to serve others. Keeping that focus helps you through.
Looking ahead, what do you hope your journey will contribute to the wider conversation around equity and representation in the medical workforce?
I hope it changes mindsets. Instead of assuming something cannot be done, people should recognise that it is possible. Barriers are often self-imposed. Most limitations exist only in the mind. I hope that my experience can change the paradigm that devastating setbacks – be they physical or mental – do not mean the end; you can return, contribute and thrive. The only time we do not achieve is when we limit ourselves on how we perceive our suffering and label it as such. It is important to focus on the positives.
www.horatiosgarden.org.uk
Declaration of competing interests: None declared.
