I’m only a trainee GP, but I’m almost there with just 10 months to go until I fly solo. Sometimes it’s difficult to stay positive in the face of endless negative press about the failings of general practitioners and the NHS, and I won’t deny that there have been times when I have questioned my career choice, both as a GP and as a doctor. But these gloomy thoughts soon pale into insignificance after just one morning surgery at my practice. It’s easy to sympathise with GPs reporting burnout; there are bottomless piles of paperwork and long hours with shifts that never seem to be over as you take the concerns of the day back to your home and partner, then to your bed. Not to mention the reports of privatisation and destruction of the NHS, patients being unable to access vital services and practice closures due to unsustainable costs and NHS cuts. It can be difficult to balance these seemingly terminal issues with those of job satisfaction and contentedness. I have been seriously close to burnout myself. But then I’m reminded of why I spent eight years at university, costing £60,000 and continued into another seven years of training; and this realisation all occurs within the confines of a small consulting room and a four-hour morning surgery. Every doctor enjoys a complex, taxing case that tests your knowledge and keeps you on your toes. And maybe this is what keeps things fresh when facing the mundanity of everyday life and the daily commute. But in an environment where GPs are becoming disempowered and deskilled, for me the joy is in the simplicity of the conversation and interactions that general practice offers. It is the sad but lovely woman, trapped in an unhappy, arranged marriage, unable to fulfill her dreams, or even express herself, but just wants to talk in confidence about these problems, and finish with a general chitchat about girly things. Or the funny three-year-old girl who screamed last time she was dragged into my room with a cough, but now delights in a visit because she remembers I dish out “I was brave for the doctor” stickers and make silly faces while I examine her. Then there is the middle aged man who has been visiting for follow up, and thinks I am fed up of seeing him again, but doesn’t realise that I secretly look forward to his cheery greeting as he energetically strides into my room greeting me with friendly familiarity by the shortened version of my first name. And I can’t forget the lovely older gentleman who was so pleased I fixed his headaches that he remembered me on his holiday and brought me back a bottle of Bordeaux from his trip. Of course I tire of the complaints from patients unable to get an appointment at an acceptable time, and worry about where the NHS is going, now that many of the services I am referring patients to are offered by private providers and waiting times are rapidly increasing. And I dread the admin and heap of paperwork which I know will be the bane of my life until the day I retire. Maybe I will get exhausted. Maybe I will burn out and need to take time out for myself. Maybe the pressures of the job will take their toll on my personal life, and perhaps I will doubt the choices I made once again. But no amount of austerity and bureaucracy can take away the simple pleasures of being a GP. source
