Benjamin Daniels - Confessions of a GP

You have a cold and feel like shit… Didledidledidledidledeeee .

Of course, if I really had a magic wand, I wouldn’t waste it on my heart-sink patients. There are much more important problems in the world to resolve:

Didledidledidledidledeeee… West Ham win the Premiership.

Didledidledidledidledeeee… Man United get relegated and Alex Ferguson cries on Match of the Day .

Didledidledidledidledeeee… Kylie lives next door to me but is otherwise unchanged.

Didledidledidledidledeeee… Kylie finally realises that she has always found slightly geeky, big-nosed doctors really quite attractive.

Didledidledidledidledeeee… Various other stuff involving myself and Kylie that I couldn’t possible put into print because my wife would kill me.

Okay… Didledidledidledidledeeee… World peace, end to poverty, reversal of climate change, etc. Yawn. Yawn.

Finally then I might find the energy to use my magic wand for the benefit of my heart-sink patients or I might just magic them off to another doctor.

I know that most of my patients with chronic health problems realise I don’t have a magic wand or expect miracle cures. They want some of my time for support, reassurance and practical advice to help get them through difficult times. I’m quite happy to offer that but you’d be surprised about how many of my patients really do want a magic cure.

Didledidledidledidledeeee… My book outsells Harry Potter and I’m played by Brad Pitt in the Hollywood film adaptation.

Sometimes, even when my surgery is full, the receptionists sneak a couple of extra patients on to the end. Up on the screen next to their name is a little justification as to why they have been squeezed in. These might be: ‘Baby with fever – mum worried’ or ‘Lost prescription – catching flight this afternoon.’ After a recent busy afternoon surgery I had a 16-year-old boy added on to my list and the receptionist had put ‘overdose’ next to his name. I thought this was a bit odd, as normally the receptionists are fairly sensible and would send an overdose straight to A&E.

I called Adrian and his mum straight in from the waiting room. Adrian was dressed all in black and had long, straggly, greasy brown hair that covered his face. Despite trying to look gothic and alternative, Adrian still looked a lot more like Harry Potter than Pete Doherty. He did look pale and sickly but I was not sure whether that was the look he was trying to convey or whether he was actually unwell.

‘He’s taken an overdose, Doctor. Drugs! It’s drugs!’ Adrian’s mum wailed with her head in her hands.

Mum was completely frantic and shouting and crying. Adrian was sitting awkwardly in the chair visibly squirming while staring at the floor. After a couple of minutes, I was getting nowhere as Mum was hysterical and Adrian was monosyllabic so I politely asked Mum to wait outside. Once his mum had left the room, Adrian relaxed a bit and told me what had happened. He and his mates from his chemistry A level class had finished a mock exam and had gone to sit in the park to drink some cider. One of his mates had some cannabis and Adrian had tried some. Cider and cannabis don’t mix very well so after three puffs, Adrian had started feeling a little pale and unwell, known in my day as ‘pulling a whitey’. He had staggered home but, unfortunately, while on his way to his bedroom he had been intercepted by his mother. After a fierce interrogation, she had managed to force out of him that he had smoked some weed and then frantically dragged him straight to the surgery.

I brought Adrian’s mum back in and tried to calm her down.

‘Adrian’s going to be fine,’ I said.

‘Well, doesn’t he need some tests doing and his stomach pumped?’

‘I promise that won’t be necessary. He just needs to go home and get some sleep.’

‘Well, what will happen now? Doesn’t he need to go in for rehab? Won’t there be some aftereffects?’

‘Hmm, he might go and raid your fridge in about three hours but not much else.’

‘Please tell him never to take drugs again, Doctor. He’ll listen to you.’

Parents are very naïve if they think that their teenagers will listen to me. I am not one of those cool 30-year-olds who DJ at the weekend and wear product in their hair. I listen to Radio 4, grow tomatoes and lately have found myself remarking on how comfortable and practical a combination of socks and sandals is. Until recently, I thought the Arctic Monkeys were a result of climate change. Your children will quite rightly view me as a geek and will under no circumstances take any lifestyle advice from me. On numerous occasions I have been instructed by parents to lecture their teenage offspring on subjects varying from sitting up straight to eating more vegetables. It is embarrassing and pointless.

Adrian and his mum left and I felt embarrassed on his behalf. I’m not advocating drugs. They are bad and certainly cannabis is now known to be considerably more harmful than previously thought. Having said all that, teenage boys with long straggly hair will sit in the park and smoke weed. It has been going on since the 1960s and so long as there are parks and spotty teenagers, it will continue into the future. The vast majority of these boys will eventually realise that there are more interesting things to do in the world and wake up to the fact that long greasy hair and heavy metal T-shirts are a bad look. Their mates will then betray them in years to come by putting embarrassing photos of them looking stoned and dishevelled on Facebook.

These are some people who have asked me to sign them off work. What do you think? Would you sign them off?

• A bloke in his late twenties works in some sort of IT firm. He has had a big row with his boss and has resigned, but doesn’t want to work out his notice because the atmosphere is horrible in the office. He’s a bit stressed about it all but isn’t depressed or unwell and is out looking for new jobs and going to interviews. He wants a sick note to say he doesn’t have to go to work for the next three weeks until his notice runs out. He won’t get paid unless he gets one.

• A woman has been on annual leave this week but has been in bed with a bad cold. She would like a sick note to say that she was unwell during her holiday so that she can take an extra week of annual leave at another time.

• A 25-year-old bloke has been on jobseeker’s allowance (the dole) for one year. Three months ago, he got really pissed, climbed a tree and then fell and fractured his leg, arm and pelvis. He is recovering quite well and is out of hospital but on crutches. If I give him a backdated sick note from when he had his accident, he can claim incapacity benefit for the time since his fall, which is more than jobseeker’s allowance. Of note: he has spent most of the last three months being looked after in an NHS hospital and so has not really needed much money.

• It is early November and a woman wants to be signed off on sick leave because Christmas is coming and her mother died at this time several years ago. Her cat has cancer and she thinks that she won’t be able to cope at work until January. She doesn’t have any symptoms of clinical depression.

• A man was sacked from his job because of heavy daytime drinking and being drunk at work. He feels that he is unable to work now because of his alcohol dependence. He is not willing to be referred to an alcohol counsellor or a rehab programme.

• A 25-year-old man was born with severely deformed arms and, at the age of 18, was signed off as disabled. A year ago he got a job at a supermarket but was sacked after being caught giving his friends unauthorised discounts. Now he wants to go back on to disability living allowance. He doesn’t have any new illnesses or disabilities.