Free Advice

Being a doctor has its perks: the glamour of having the D-R in front of your name, the wealth of knowledge at your fingertips and being blessed with the gift of helping, no not helping, saving people.

Blah Blah BLAH!

It is a little more like this:

Never use the title doctor out of work. Mark my words, or you will be the tit on a flight home that has to help someone’s kid that’s choking on a peanut, or assist the person who is crapping out their guts and blocking a toilet.
The “wealth” of knowledge leads to insomnia, as you mull over whether the dull ache in your abdomen is due to mesenteric adenitis at 3am.
And people will use and abuse "your gift". Anyone you meet socially that finds out you are a doctor will start the next sentence with...
“So tell me, I’ve got this strange pain in my big toe. Could it be cancer?”

“Well Bob, I’m here trying to have a drink on an evening that I am actually off, so I don’t give a flying fuck if it’s cancer or not!” I think to myself.

Family members will pump prescriptions out of you like there’s no tomorrow and pethidine addicts will schmooze the pants off you to get their much needed next hit.

Working in a private Emergency Room, means that even the people that can afford to pay will try to get things for free. This is where the “phone consult” comes into play. People will phone the ER and demand to speak to the doctor, hoping to get their problem solved without having to come into the unit or pay. It usually involves a mother whose child has a fever, but sometimes they can be rather amusing.

“Hi, I need to speak to a doctor urgently!” shrieks a middle-aged woman.

“Yes, this is the doctor speaking. What seems to be the problem?” I mentally brace myself for a ten minute conversation of trying to calm someone down.

“Oh it’s my Cassy…she’s…um…got a rash. It’s everywhere!”

“OK, how old is Cassy?” I casually ask.

“Um…4..I think.”

She doesn’t know! Retard!

“What does the rash look like?”

“It’s red and its everywhere!” she screams.

“Please try and stay calm. It’s very difficult to diagnose over the phone without actually seeing the rash, but you’re more than welcome to bring her in if you’re worried.”

“I’m just worried that she’ll give it to my kids.”

“Oh, so Cassy isn’t one of your children?” I am SO confused at this point.

“Well she’s my baby, but she’s actually a bunny,” she answers.

WTF! A bunny? A fluffy, white rabbit? The kind you pull out of a hat? You’ve got to be kidding me!

“I’m sorry, but I only deal with human patients. You’ll have to contact a vet. Bye bye now”



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