Abstract
Runner up of the 2015 InnovAiT writing competition
The beauty of general practice is that each day is different. Every day I am faced with patients of differing ages and presentations, and I often find myself travelling through an unpredictable journey of emotions; from stress, relief, to joy and grief. Monday morning brought with it the challenges of complex pain management, constipated toddlers and acute chest pain. I was asked to call Maggie, a lady who wanted advice regarding a sore throat. A 53-year-old lady who must have had over 100 sore throats to date – so why was she phoning her GP? I let out a deep sigh and began to dial. The telephone conversation consisted of not particularly glamorous self-care advice.
Friday morning on call was extremely busy and I seemed to be supporting patients with bereavement, stress, abuse and depression. A psychological marathon in itself. Maggie walked into the consultation room abruptly and closed the door just that little bit too loud to grab my attention for the wrong reason. It was that sore throat again – present only for a few days. Her voice and demeanour told the story of anger, or was it fear? We agreed that this could be a viral infection and the consultation ended. I suddenly found myself very naturally asking Maggie if anything else was troubling her. It felt right to do so and I could sense that something was wrong. She shouted, ‘No, of course not!’ and rushed out of the room. That wasn’t the way that I wanted my morning to end.
The weekend passed by and I found myself thinking about Maggie. There was something about her. She was one of those patients with whom no communication was necessary to know that something was troubling her. Monday morning came around far too quickly as always, and to my surprise, Maggie had an appointment booked to see me. She entered my room with a less hostile air than previously. She sat down and shared with me her plight. An abusive relationship, an estranged sibling, financial turmoil and that very important lump in her breast that had been present for 3 months. She thought that it would go away, but it was doing the very opposite. We ploughed through her troubles, urgently referred and planned a review. She thanked me. I knew why without her explaining. She thanked me for giving her the opportunity to talk, for throwing her that lifeline that comes so naturally to us as GPs. It’s that instinct – we know when a patient is troubled by the unmentioned and we have a way of easing their burden. We see them through the eyes of a GP. The beauty of general practice is that for all of the 115 patients that I saw in general practice over the last 7 days, in their eyes and in Maggie’s, I saw only one.