All Doctors are Not Equal
I was sitting outside the local co-op when I saw a figure out the corner of my eye. They'd stopped
a few feet away from me. I expected that it might be one of Diezel's many admirers. Our Belgian Shepherd dog's popularity seems to know no limits. So I looked up with a smile, ready to embrace the warmth of yet another person's love for "The Deez".

I was surprised to see my Aunt Vera. My godmother, actually. And her face was a mask of sadness. I knew immediately that something was wrong, yet found myself uttering the standard greeting one will make of a relation or friend they meet on the street. I said hello and asked how things were. I said it almost nonchalantly despite my surprise of seeing her sorrowful features.

"Things are bad Richard" she replied quietly, coming to sit on the rusting metal bench next to me, “Things are very bad indeed."

I learned very quickly what she meant. Her husband had been diagnosed with lung cancer and brain
cancer. He had been given only a year to live, and no hope of treatment besides some attempt to "stun" the cancer in some way which I did not understand. This had all come as a terrible shock. Bill had been having problems with kidney stones and had been into hospital a few times for treatment and tests. He was still being tested for the cause of the kidney stones when the cancer had been discovered. Vera was intensely angry with her GP and the NHS in general. She was sure that Bill should have been diagnosed sooner. He had been in and out of the hospital many times in the past year or so with one problem or another. She'd been pushing for answers and none had come. Time had passed and then had come the bombshell. Her anger was all that was keeping her alive, she said. I had a stray thought pass into my mind but I shelved it. It wasn't the right thing to think, let alone say. I couldn't imagine a way to console my Aunt, but I tried nonetheless. I offered whatever support I could offer but I knew there was nothing I could do or say to make this better. My wife appeared then with our 2 year old son, Peter. I quickly explained the tragic news and she joined me in our futile consolation. We offered our support and our help. It wasn't much. A drive to the hospital if needed. We weren't close to Vera and Bill. Luckily, their son was very capable and would do all that was needed of him.

We watched Vera go on her way slowly and with her head low as I'd never seen her before. My wife,
son and I walked off with our dog leading the way. We walked quietly for a time until the stray thought I'd shelved made it's way back to the surface of my mind and I had to speak. I am sure my
wife knew I was going to. We talked for a long time.

It's easy and natural for me to blame the G.P. for what has happened to Bill. We were also patients of that surgery until their incompetence and sheer neglect forced my hand. When my wife's illness was at it's worst their reaction to her was cold and unkind, as if she was a pretender. And even before that there had been telltale signs, such as not looking us in the eye when talking to us. It seems silly to include this as a reason to doubt your Doctor, but it's now something I'm wary of in my dealings with anyone.

Their solution for my wife's health problems were to give her a hysterectomy. If we'd listened to them we'd never have the beautiful son we now enjoy so much. But when we rejected their suggestion they reacted as it was their way or no way. We did not receive any support from them and the final straw came when my wife had a severe bout of pain. I called the G.P. and they refused to come out to help her, stating flatly that there was nothing they could do. By the next morning we had changed surgery. We never contacted that G.P. to explain our actions. I just signed up with a new practice and they accepted us. Looking back now (many years later) I think I have never made a better decision in my life.

Our new Doctor is nothing short of fantastic and it is thanks to her kindness and devotion that we have our son - something we have made sure she understands our gratitude for. She helped my wife and I to overcome the health issues that had prevented us having a family in the past. She gave council and support to my wife when she needed it. When my wife fell apart in tears at her health prognosis the doctor held her hand and told her she would help. Our last G.P. just stared at her coldly, as if it was too much drama for him. I'd never thought about the standard of care I was receiving from my doctor before I met my wife. I'd always kept pretty good health. And I'd always thought that whatever I got was as good as it got. That somehow it was regulated or that each doctor had a code of ethics or an oath that they worked by. How naive I was. Like artists, mechanics, software companies and everything else there are good doctors and there are bad doctors. I think it's important to be happy with the healthcare you're getting.

I had to visit the surgery yesterday for something worrying. It quickly became a pleasant experience. The doctor (not our normal G.P. but part of the same practice) took care of my problem and then regarded my son (the whole family had come to the doctor with me). She said to Peter:

"Look how big you've gone! I remember when you were just little!"

I smiled at her and patted him on the head.

"Yes." I said, "He's gorgeous, isn't he?"

By Richard W. Fairbairn 21st April 2006

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