Just what the doctor ordered

I had high hopes for the GP rotation.

Meeting “Tony”, my designated GP for the week was indeed interesting. The man is passionate about his profession. He also earns my respect for having strong morals that stem from a belief that there is a higher power that will hold you accountable for your own actions.

“Now, I do not care what you believe in, as long as you believe in something, because God, whatever you call him, gave us this opportunity to do good to people. So you should be thankful.”

His relationship with his patients extends further than the formal clinical appointments. Everyone goes to him for everything.

After all, studies have shown that medical doctors are the ones most trusted compared to other professions. Lawyers lie at the bottom. I’m just saying.

Then there was drama…

“My husband is having an affair,” then she cried.

It turned out that he often hit their children, especially when drunk. He watches porn on his son’s computer. Their daughter is graduating on Friday. She doesn’t want her to know about the affairs. He openly admits to “f***ing tramps” when intoxicated. He bullies his wife.

Bastard.

The lady didn’t need any medication. She needed someone to listen.

Tony was the man she sought.

Anger, anxiety, agitation

Reading about anger, agitation and anxiety can never prepare you for the horror show of what it really is.

The man was a garda officer who had depression, Whoopadidooda.

Ironically his wife was a psychotherapist.

“I feel unsafe around him. He talks of harming the children with a knife” she said.

The alarm bells rang at once. This guy needed to be admitted immediately.

He had tipped over for the worse. Earlier he tried to poison himself with carbon monoxide. He couldn’t go through with it and came in to seek help.

Tony was the man he sought.

In grave danger

Next up is an engineer who works in a cemetery. He was depressed. He needed time off work due to “work related stress” He basically had to tell grieving families that there was no more space. Their loved ones would have to make way for “fresher” bodies. He couldn’t handle the pressure.

Tony was the man he sought.

The opposite side of the table

Then there was a medical student who sat in the corner, listening to it all. He had his own problems to deal with, yet he masked it ever so expertly. He took notes when he had to; he even made eye contact when prompted. He kept quiet most of the time. He knew that his life was nowhere near as screwed up as theirs. He had no reason to complain. Yet deep down inside, he felt like he could easily be the one sitting on the opposite side of the table.