My Job Is Amazing

This weekend, I have…

  • Sat down for half an hour with a patient, their partner, and a pharmacist to come up with a robust, flexible management plan upon which we were all agreed.
  • Done my medical detective schtick.
  • Talked more than either of us would have liked to oncology on call.
  • Taught three medical students. Given one of them a logistically impossible task of the FY1 bureaucratic nightmare variety, and got to see him accomplish it and then grin so much I thought his face might fall off. Because teaching that impossible is relative is still teaching.
  • Been thanked.
  • “I have to ask you some daft questions. Do you know what year it is?” “2014.” “Who’s the Prime Minister?” “That bastard.”
  • Via well-timed phone calls and much help from other people, found alternative diagnoses that made more sense, were truer to Occam’s Razor, and led to changing treatment for the better.
  • Had important conversations.
  • Been called Madam Doctor. Lots. In bad French, once. Madam Doctor, comprendes oui?
  • Genuinely saved someone’s life, which is a thing that I get to say less often than you might think.
  • Had fits of giggles when I walked through an A&E waiting room that contained maybe fifteen patients who were all intently watching Casualty.
  • Drunk not enough.
  • Got home on time not at all.
  • Got better at being a doctor than I was on Friday morning.


  1. Great! Occasionally, I felt like that about teaching – but there wasn’t much call for saving lives. That must be a wonderful thing to know you’ve done.

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