Please Come and Waste My Time

I heard some really crap news about a friend today. Another case of breast cancer. She's only 32. So I thought I'd have a rant.

I wasn't clever enough to be a doctor.

I wasn't bad at physics, but my chemistry and biology results were bloody awful, so I decided to become an arty, farty, sporty person instead.

But, you know, I have a theory. Sometimes you don't have to be clever to save lives.

The surgeon who carried out my operations last year was an extremely clever doctor. He knew what he was doing. I had enormous confidence in him. I'm extremely grateful to him. He was my lifesaver - literally.

At every appointment with this consultant, I had a Macmillan nurse sitting in. She also has a list of qualifications the length of her arm, but her most important qualification in my eyes was as 'interpreter,' and 'communicator.'

They were a fantastic double act, the pair of them. The consultant delivered his 'this is what you've got' announcement, followed by his 'and this is what we're going to do about it' speech. He would then leave the room, and allow me and my husband to have time with the nurse who put everything into 'Shents-speak.'

With her in the team, the consultant was allowed to be as clever as he liked. He didn't have to bother much about how I felt about things - my fabulous nurse took care of that. I was in safe hands. I felt cared for, confident, safe, listened to, understood....

To get to this stage, I had to pass an audition with the GP.  They are like medical sieves. They have to be clever enough to recognise the patients who are genuinely ill, and smile politely to the people who aren't. All in 10 minutes. Fortunately, this time, I didn't get washed down the plughole and I successfully sailed through to the next round...

To get to my audition at the GP surgery, though, I had to pick up the phone and make an appointment.

Some of us are reluctant to do this. Last time you visited the GP, you may have left the surgery feeling slightly silly. Slightly embarrassed. Slightly...like you'd wasted their time. You didn't mean to do it..you're really sorry...you won't do it again...

...so when we reach for the phone, we're not necessarily reluctant to see our doctor because we're afraid of the diagnosis. Perhaps we are more frightened of being labelled a 'time waster.'

We are constantly reminded that we should see a pharmacist, take a paracetamol, catch it, bin it, kill it...anything but see a GP.
 

Is this the right message to be sending out? Posters, leaflets, campaigns - and even our own GP's - giving us that 'look' - the one that says 'you've wasted my time.'
To some - maybe - yes. But not to all.

GP's. You are clever people. Very clever people, and we respect and value what you do. But did you know that you can also save lives without being that clever?
I think it used to be called 'bedside manner...'

The following is taken from an article by 'PalMD'  - entitled 'Why are you Wasting My Time?' (click link for full article) 


It is important for all of us who are physicians to remember that there is no such thing as a stupid appointment.  If nothing else, the time can be spent getting to know someone new----misanthropy is not a good trait for a clinician.  And building that rapport can lead to more gravid revelations in the future.  Once you get a complete stranger to trust you, you start to experience "door-knobbing", where a patient, holding the doorknob on the way out says, "By the way doc...". That "by the way" is often the most significant part of the visit.  The cold they came in for becomes the mole on their leg that is getting bigger, or the heart burn that only bugs them when they climb the stairs.  
Once you have decided that a visit is a waste of time, the patient will share that conclusion, and will have no reason to tell you anything of consequence.  And that's not good medicine.

I wonder how many lives could be saved if not some (and I know there are fantastic GP's out there!), but every GP adopted this approach.