A brief post illustrating in a few pithy sentences many of the issues which I feel permeate modern medical institutions with their excessive attention to hierarchy and acceptance of imbalanced power relationships between people who should see themselves as colleagues rather than master and servant

Today's oxymoronic utterance from a senior doctor:

"Don't do anything unless I tell you to!  And I need you to anticipate what I want."

Bloody Oath

I'm a doctor.  *boggle*

At the qualifying ceremony we all had to stand up and read out this thing called the Physician's Oath.  As Physicians we had to promise to be good guys and to always do our best and where-ever there's injustice, you will find us, and so forth.  Unfortunately it wasn't the pithy old Hippocratic Oath in which you vow solemnly to put African wildlife in boxes.  No, this was lengthy and sounded like it was written by someone with a Diploma in Public Health and a shiny pair of pants. 

As a result, my mind wandered.  I started thinking - which is always dangerous.  I thought to myself, Hey!  Hey Self!  You've got this degree: Bachelor of Medicine, Bachelor of Surgery.  Is that two degrees or just one?  And how come you know a little bit of medicine but almost no surgery.  And how come I'm taking this Physician's Oath but not a Surgeon's Oath?  Maybe nobody has written one!

Ladies and Gentlemen, in the red corner, may I present...

The Surgeon's Oath

AT THE TIME OF BEING ADMITTED AS A MEMBER OF THE SURGICAL PROFESSION:

I am honoured to make this declaration in front of such of my family and friends that I still have, my colleagues whom I have not yet backstabbed, and teachers and mentors that I have been sucking up to;

I commit myself to practising surgery with speed, speed, and ... um ... speed;

My relationship with my patients will be built upon masculine slaps upon the shoulder and brisk promises to have them back on their feet in no time;

I will value all aspects of my patients - cash, credit, and other convertible assets;

I will not permit considerations of gender, race, religion, political affiliation, sexual orientation, nationality or social standing to influence my duty of care - but I should mention that if I do you on my private list I can get it done next Thursday even though the public waiting list is chockers until September 2013;

I will work with my patients to enhance their quality of life and provide support both in times of suffering and well-being - unless it's outside my specific area of research interest in which case I'll just expect the intern to handle it.

My commitment extends to the health of the community, valuing the diversity of people within in it as valuable providers of novelty ethnic food and taxi drivers to/from the airport;

I will support my colleagues working in health care, and treat them with honesty and respect, if they are both senior to me and within earshot; otherwise - shrug...

I will contribute to a work environment that fosters learning and cooperation.  I commit myself to passing on my loudmouthed opinions on topics of interest to me such as luxury watches, sportscars and Fascist politics whenever I have a sharp instrument in my hand, as have those who have gone before me;

I will acknowledge my limitations and mistakes, should they ever occur, preposterous as that may seem to all of us here today in light of my obvious talents;

I will strive for satisfaction and enjoyment in my work but reserve the right to brutalize those in my power should I be having a bad hair day;

I will maintain balance in my life, drinking both red and white;

May these affirmations guide, strengthen and inspire me in practising the art and science of surgery.

Confidential

A couple of weeks ago I got roped into a teaching session for the 2nd year students by my surgical team.  They were running a rotating series of 5 or 6 learning stations for about 8 students per group, and since one of the registrars was away they got me to run a station instead of him.

In the other stations the big boss surgeons sat the students down and presumably taught them surgeony things like the best bottle of red between $50 and $75, and who the best trainers for racehorses are.  My station, bizarrely, was a test.  Tough luck if you got the test first before you'd been taught anything.  Not that it really mattered because the test didn't count for anything.

It seemed to me to be a pretty pointless exercise.  Also, watching people do tests is not my idea of fun, so as each new group came into my room I would explain that they could choose between doing the test by themselves or having us all sit around and talk about the answers.  To their credit (I thought) the groups all chose a middle path and had a crack at it themselves before having a discussion afterwards.

The discussions were good. I would let them air their theories about what they thought was the right answer and why, and I made sure that everyone contributed at some stage, before I would tell them what I thought was the right answer (note the important caveat there - I was not given the answers) and why, and then we'd discuss it some more.  I got the impression they all found it kind of useful and somewhat interesting.

I was told to collect the papers but made an executive decision that the students might as well take them home instead, seeing as I pretty much told them all the answers anyway.  As a result I had this almost surreal conversation with one of the surgeons:

Indignant Surgeon

Where are all the test papers?

PTR

The students took them home.

Indignant Surgeon

How will the students know what the right answers are if we don't mark their papers?

PTR

I suppose they could always look things up.

Indignant Surgeon

But they'll pass the information on to the other students in other groups who haven't sat the test yet!

PTR

The test doesn't count for anything, right?

Indignant Surgeon

We'll have to change the test.

To recap, he was upset that students might go away and learn something, and even worse, might help other less motivated students to learn something too!  Silly me - I forgot that medical education has nothing to do with educating people.  It's actually all about making sure that people feel bad about how ignorant they are.

I was discussing this with my Smaller Half and she pointed out the additional absurdity that there is no way in hell that a surgeon is going to sit there and mark 50 exam papers that don't even count for anything.  I suggested that it would probably have been passed down to the Fellow, who would dump it on the Registrar, who would delegate it to the RMO, who would handball it to the Intern, who would sling it to me.

So not only was I able to actually teach people something, I also thwarted a stupid plan and saved myself some dull work in the process.  Win-win-win.

Play it as it lies

The most useful thing I learned in my recent six week stint with the psychiatrists is that psychiatrists are doctors too.  Here's the evidence:

1. They know all about "Code Brown".
2. They get really annoyed at inappropriate referrals, such as the person with confusion due to an infection that the ED docs think is bonkers and should get detained and given anti-psychotic medication rather than something more appropriate such as, say, antibiotics.
3. Their handwriting is illegible.

With regard to point 3, although it's illegible, it does have the benefit of being voluminous.  They write so much that often you are able to get the general vibe of their notes even though the actual words are gibberish.

In contrast, the surgical team I've just joined, while they also have unintelligible writing, don't seem to be able to use sentences in their notes.  To be fair, this is probably because they are scribbling madly, desperately trying to catch up with the surgeon, who conducts the round so fast that windows are shattered by the sonic boom.

It's pretty intimidating getting thrown into the midst of this as a student because it means that anything in the notes is thruply confusing.  Not only is the handwriting terrible, the actual text is just bizarre abbreviations of things that you wouldn't understand even if it was actually written out in full.  On the round this doesn't matter so much because as a student my main tasks seem to be to hold the tongue depressors in case anybody wants to do some Playschool craft projects and to not get trampled underfoot by the aforementioned rampaging surgeon.

Clinics though - clinics are a different story.  Today I was given the job of taking notes, which is fine (in fact, the surgeon told me I was a "born note taker", which may actually be an insult, but anyway) except it means that I'm holding the notes and hence also have the job of flipping around in the previous notes and trying to answer questions about the previous appointments.

The surgeon would turn to me and ask something like, "What was the original plan when Mr Smith first presented last year?".  I'd find the page and see that it would seem to say something like, "P) OPO f/u A/S2 w C+R".  Now if you're roolly smart like me you can mentally adjust for the scrawlings and say, "Outpatient followup up in 1 month with a chest x-ray".  Which is fine. 

But the next line says, "2. FFfFt + ananas - ref/ chok", and what do you do with that?

I can't figure out what it means, nor even what it might mean.  The nihilistic part of me wants to throw caution to the wind by saying, "Klaatu barada nikto", just to see what happens.  However, that is not how you establish credibility on day 2 of a new clinical placement.  It's more suitable for a morning tea in week 5 when everyone already knows you're a bit of a nut.  So I simply say, "It looks like the plan was for fffffft, ananas and ref chok."

The surgeon pauses and stares at me long enough for my heart to skip two beats.  "Hmm, fair enough.  It wouldn't be my approach but I'm pretty conservative", he says, and carries on.

I am shriven

"Surgeons are fine.  I have no problem with surgeons.  It's the people who want to be surgeons that you have to watch out for." - My doctor.

Jokes about surgeons being awful people are stock in trade for this blog.  But I have an appalling confession to make.  After my exposure to surgery this year, I'd actually quite like to be a surgeon.  It looks really interesting.

I'm so ashamed.

Man-bag

[Fire typography for the picture stolen from Nir Tobir]

I've got mixed feelings about my man-bag.  Partly it's to do with the name: "man-bag" has a certain scrotality to it that I'm not entirely comfortable with.  Also, although it is a genuine man-bag purchased from the Men's Accessories section of a wanky store, it was bought by my Smaller Half for her own use.  She used it for two years and I have only started using it this year because she doesn't really need to lug books around any more.  So a certain air of femininity lingers on despite its rugged brown leather construction and spartan style.

I've had a couple of my Esteemed Colleagues say to me, "Nice man-bag!", which is encouraging.  But they said it in a slightly over-enthusiastic way that makes me wonder if they were mocking me.

But the worst insult happened just today.  I was sitting in with an orthopaedic surgeon (and we all know that they're the real macho men).  My man-bag was on the floor under my seat, innocently minding its own business in its understated masculine way.  He saw it there just as the patient was leaving the room and said to her, "Oh Mrs MacGillicuddy!  Is that your handbag?"

"Oh no", she said, "It's HIS!" and she pointed right at me.  Oh how I burned with shame.