…isn’t it? Being a GP?
I wish it had been, yesterday. I had a nice man with all the symptoms of acute coronary syndrome (off to the Emergency Department for him), a home visit to a man in his 90s whose 88 year old wife couldn’t cope with him any more (call to Social Services to arrange emergency respite for him in a residential home), three new diagnoses of depression, a mystery rheumatological condition in a previously healthy 25 year old man, a family poisoned with carbon monoxide after a council subcontracter replaced their boiler, who were off to the solicitors after seeing me “to sue the bloody council”, a new diagnosis of type 2 diabetes, a heated discussion with a hypertensive patient who thought our reminder system which called her back for a blood pressure check was “tantamount to harrassment”, chickenpox in a 5 year old which became a little more complicated when dad revealed that mum is eight weeks pregnant and has never had chickenpox, some aches and pains, funny rashes, lumps and bumps, and, of course any number of febrile children. Phew.
This is what I love about general practice. The door handle turns, and you could be dealing with someone who thinks they have cancer (and don’t) or someone who probably has cancer and doesn’t know it. It gives me the greatest buzz to be able to get to the nub of the issue in just ten minutes, and still have time to find out about their life, and send them on their way feeling that someone has taken them seriously. When it’s going well it feels like the best job in the world.