GP reveals the harsh reality of working in the NHS

BY DR PUNAM KRISHAN

AN EPIDEMIC is upon us, possibly the worst this country has ever faced.

Every year there is a winter crisis and every year we – the doctors – work our hardest to swim against the tide only to be swept back ashore with neither praise nor encouragement.

Aching exhaustion but a strong will to protect and survive, we brave it again and again and again until we burnout. This is the reality of your doctor, the one you see in front of you every time you visit them.

Emerging data suggests that not only are we struggling to recruit medical students, we have thousands of unfilled GP vacancies to match. More worryingly however, we have a rapidly-rising number of doctors leaving their jobs and the NHS in the pursuit of their own health and wellbeing.

I am one such GP who recently experienced burnout. I studied for 10 years to become a GP. A lifelong desire and a real sense of accomplishment and pride when I received my certificate of completion of training. Never did I ever imagine that six years later, I would crash and burn all because I cared too much and worked too hard.

What is “burnout” you ask? Burnout is a lifestyle-related condition; a state of emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion caused by unresolved, excessive and prolonged stress. It occurs when you feel overwhelmed and emotionally drained trying but failing to meet constant demands.

This is every doctor in this country right now. This is the GP you saw yesterday or will see tomorrow.

This is the person on the other side of that desk whose job it is to serve you and sort out all your healthcare needs whilst trying to remain a human also.

You see the failing appointment systems, the GP running late yet again. You complain, you moan to staff who send messages about how disgruntled you are.

Well, she is trying. Her baby is not well but she has a duty of care and is acutely aware she has a busy day of consultations with patients who have booked to see her for their health problems.

Some have waited days, and some have changed their work schedules to see her. She cannot call in sick. She gives her baby paracetamol and ibuprofen and drops him off at nursery, driving to work with a heavy heart praying her baby will be okay. She rushes in to work and sees you arriving at the surgery.

There are urgent home visit requests on her screen, there are urgent prescriptions to do. She has to call back a specialist cancer nurse to discuss her dying patient and their needs.

It is only 8.30am.

But none of this you can see because when she calls you in, she gives you her utmost attention. Addressing your problems, you leave happy, but she is left to repeat the same again with another patient, and another patient, and another patient all day long.

The surgery closes at lunch, she has already finished late leaving her with an hour-and-a-half to do everything but have lunch. She calls the nursery to check on her son and arranges for someone to collect him because she cannot get away. She returns the calls of the palliative care nurse and arranges to visit them and their relatives because of their imminent death.

She does the repeat prescription requests, so you don’t have to wait more than 48 hours for your medication and then rushes out to do the house visits for the elderly, frail and unwell patients. She is hungry, but has not got time. Surgery starts back in an hours’ time.

She visits your dying relative and you are angry and emotional. You have lots of questions and need time to express them. She listens, and empathises with the pain your life is causing you. She cannot rush you. You need her even though you are not her patient and she gives you her all even though panicking inside that she will now be late starting the afternoon surgery.

She drives back feeling helpless and reflects on your situation. She has taken on your emotional turmoil and even sheds a tear. You will never know this of course because the media doesn’t tell you this.

The afternoon surgery is the same. You have called about your sick child who needs to be seen. She cannot have you wait until the next day, nor does she want you to take your child to NHS24, they are already facing excessive strain. She creates extra appointments at the end of her day to see your baby.

She finally leaves around 8pm, driving in silence feeling guilty she missed her baby’s bedtime again.

She is also feeling worried your relative may die tonight, hoping your child is okay, anxious in case she forgot to do something, hungry as she has only eaten a handful of chocolates you left for the staff and beyond everything exhausted and burnt-out.

This is my real-life story. This is the real-life story of your GPs today.

Be kind to us. Be patient with us. What you see is the stage we set up for you. Behind the scenes, we are human beings working our hardest to swim against the tide and craving your support and encouragement.

Follow Dr Punam Krishan here: @visionary_medic