Further Confessions of a GP

The events described in this book are based on my experiences as a GP. For obvious reasons of privacy and confidentiality I have made certain changes, altered identifying features and fictionalised some aspects. Nonetheless, it remains an honest reflection of life as a doctor in Britain today. This is what it’s like. These things really happen!

This book is dedicated to my family and to coffee. If it wasn’t for my family the book would have been finished a year earlier. If it wasn’t for coffee, it wouldn’t have been finished at all.

Title Page

Disclaimer

Dedication

Introduction

First day

Sarah

Crackhead Kenny I

Maggie I

Brian and Deidre

Maggie II

Communication skills

Maggie III

Maggie IV

Can’t be too careful

Crackhead Kenny II

Army medical I

Tummy aches

Glass test

Mr Lorenzo

Pseudoseizures

Antibiotic resistance

Diabetes

Tarig I

Is the quality of NHS care really declining?

Jimmy Savile

Nathan

Army medical II

Betty Ferrari

Smelly bum

Tarig II

Should we know how much health care costs?

Danni I

The NHS, the envy of the world?

Don’t look down

Mrs Patrick

Danni II

Unnoticed

Man flu

Medical students

Taking benefits away from addicts

Stuck in the middle

Danni III

Funny X-ray

The coroner

Mr Goodson

Mr Raymond

Hannah

Ted

Should we name and shame doctors who make mistakes?

Pseudocyesis

Playing God

Simon

Removing patients from lists

Bravery

Foreign bodies

Retrieving the gerbil

The chemical cosh

Medical science

Gastric bypass

Karen’s baby

Notes

Nurses I

Nurses II

Paradise

Yes/No

David

Hospital deaths

Sinbad

John

How doctors die

Rita

Neighbours

Letter to myself, 10 years ago

Further Confessions of a GP is part of the bestselling ‘Confessions Series’. Also available

About the Author

Also by Dr Benjamin Daniels

Copyright

About the Publisher

‘Oh, and just one more thing, Doc, before I go. I’m reading this book …’ With that my patient pulled out a copy of Confessions of a GP from his bag. ‘Have you read it?’

‘No,’ I lied, then added bravely, ‘Is it any good?’.

‘It’s all right, I suppose. Could definitely be a lot funnier and the author comes across as a bit of a self-righteous prat at times. I’ll lend it to you once I’ve finished it, if you like?’

‘Nah, you’re all right.’

I wrote Confessions of a GP a few years ago, all about my experiences as a newly qualified GP. Partly due to the witty anecdotes and insightful social commentary, but mostly due to the extremely low pricing of the ebook version, it sold surprisingly well, and so I decided to write this sequel. I penned the first book while working as a nomadic locum doctor. I have now settled as a partner in an inner city practice and I also work a regular shift each week in our local A&E department.

These are my further confessions.

‘You’re not Dr Bailey.’

‘No, Dr Bailey’s wife had a stroke yesterday and he is taking some time off to help care for her.’

‘But who’s going to look after me?’

‘Well, I’m going to be looking after Dr Bailey’s patients while he’s away.’

‘You’re no good,’ Mrs Patrick huffed, looking me up and down. ‘You don’t even know me. I always see Dr Bailey. When’s he coming back?’

‘I don’t know. His wife is really quite poorly.’

Mrs Patrick tutted loudly and I was left wondering if she was more upset with me for not being Dr Bailey, or Dr Bailey’s wife for selfishly having a stroke.

‘Might I be able to help at all? What’s brought you into the doctor’s surgery today?’

By this stage I was rather hoping that her obvious lack of faith in my abilities would lead to a short and easy consultation, but unfortunately Mrs Patrick sat glued to the seat for another 30 minutes. An endless array of intolerable sufferings were described in gruesome detail, but before allowing me to offer any possible solutions, she would curtly remind me that I couldn’t possibly help and how dreadful it was that Dr Bailey had left her in the lurch like this.

Most of the morning’s patients offered a little more sympathy for Dr Bailey’s predicament, but none seemed to consider me a worthy understudy. By the time I drove off on my first visit of my new job, I was feeling thoroughly demoralised.