Richard Gordon: DOCTOR AT LARGE

'And of the B.M.A.?' the Chairman continued, now scowling.

'Y-yes, sir.'

This sudden malevolence was impossible to explain. I felt awkward and nervous, and wanted fresh air. I pulled out my handkerchief to wipe my forehead, and pushed back my chair. Then I saw opposite me under the table the edge of a tweed skirt, thick fish-net stockings, and a pair of sensible brogues.

'I,-I'm terribly sorry, my dear sir-I mean madam-I-I-Oh, God!' I jumped up and ran for the door. I didn't get that job, either.

In the train to London I pulled the latest medical journal from my overcoat pocket and sadly turned again to the advertisements, which were conveniently arranged alphabetically under specialities from Anaesthetics to Venereology. It seemed time to try my luck at a different branch of medicine. Bacteriology meant regular hours and no talkative patients, but there was always the risk of catching something like smallpox or plague. Tuberculosis offered work in pleasant country surroundings with plenty of fresh butter and eggs, but the drowsy routine of a sanatorium often drugs the doctors as well as the patients. Orthopaedics needed the instincts of a carpenter, and pathology the instincts of Burke and Hare. Radiology sent you to work in unhealthy, dark, dripping grottoes underground, and paediatrics meant children being sick over your trousers.

I looked gloomily through the window at the English industrial landscape thirstily soaking up an afternoon's rain, and tried to review my years at St Swithin's to find another subject for which I had shown some aptitude. But my education was represented in my memory only by a series of smells-there was the acrid smell of the first-year chemistry class, the soft smell of Canada balsam used for mounting zoology slides, the mixed stink of phenol and formaldehyde in the anatomy room, the rich aromatic breath of the biochemistry laboratory, the smell of floor-polish in the wards and ether in the operating theatre, and the smell in the post-mortem room like a badly-kept butcher's shop. I sighed, and reluctantly turned back the pages: there was nothing left but general practice.

Under _Practices (Executive Councils)_ was printed _For vacancies (except those in Scotland) apply on Form ECI6A, obtainable from the Executive Council…_ The first breath of bureaucracy! It had such a depressing effect that I turned to the less formal advertisements tucked among prospectuses for private lunatic asylums and offers of used cars and second-hand R.A.M.C. uniforms in the back. One on the cover itself struck me:

EMINENTLY SUITABLE FOR RECENTLY

QUALIFIED PRACTITIONER

1. Medical Officer in luxury liner on world cruise. America, South Seas, West Indies, Australia, Japan, India. Leaving almost immediately. All found and salary Ј2,000 per annum (in U.S. dollars).

2. Personal Medical Officer required by South African millionaire travelling widely Africa, America, Asia. Salary by arrangement, but money no object for suitable man. Apply at once.

3. General Practice. Suitable partner required for quiet practice in Wye Valley. Free sixteenth-century house, fully modernized, free fuel and food, free car and chauffeur, three months' holiday a year.

Many Other Similar Posts

_Apply to_ _WILSON, WILLOWICK AND WELLBELOVED_ _Medical Agency_

The address was not far from St Swithin's.

The next morning was foggy, my rent fell due, and I was developing a cold, but even from Muswell Hill the agency shone brightly with hope. I made for it directly after breakfast. I had never seen the office, but I found it at the top of a bare, sagging staircase between a hospital for chronic diseases and a pub.

On the door was a notice saying WALK IN. Inside was a small room lined with varnished planks, containing two plain wooden benches facing each other and fixed to the wall, like seats in a French railway compartment. Opposite was a door with a cracked, frosted-glass panel saying PRINCIPAL; there was a window curtained with London grime, and on the floor the small, upturned face of a circular electric fire gave a wan greeting. Sitting on one bench was a pale, thoughtful man about my age reading _The Journal of Neurology, Neurosurgery, and Psychiatry,_ and on the other an old, untidy, dirty-looking fellow with an insanitary moustache and a crumpled trilby was staring at the floor and muttering.

I sat next to the young man. None of us spoke. I waited until both of them had entered and left the inner room, then I went in myself.

The office was smaller than the waiting-room, and contained a high, narrow desk at which a benevolent-looking old man with gold-rimmed glasses and side-whiskers was sitting on a stool. He was wearing a wing collar, a cravat, and an old frock-coat. A light in a pale green shade hung from the ceiling to the level of his nose.

'Mr Wilson, Mr Willowick, or Mr Wellbeloved?' I asked cheerfully. The sensation of applying for a job as a customer rather than a supplicant was unreasonably stimulating.

'Alas, Doctor, I am neither,' He smiled good-heartedly. He put down his pen and clasped his arthritic fingers. 'And what can I do for you?'

'I came about your advertisement. I'd like the millionaire one if it's still going, but if not I'll take the cruise liner instead. I can pack up and go any time. I'm perfectly free.'

'Alas, again, Doctor,' he said, still smiling kindly, 'but those vacancies are already filled.'

'But the advert. only came out yesterday!'

'The rush was very great…However, I have many equally attractive posts to offer. You wish to go abroad, Doctor?'

'I wouldn't mind. As long as it's sunny.'

'Then I have just the very place. The Acropolos Oil Company-a Greek concern, but most respectable-require a doctor in Iraq. Most interesting. The first tour of duty is five years. I have the contract here-'

'I don't think I want so much sunshine as that.'

'Are you a man of faith, Doctor? You look it, to my eyes. A medical missionary is needed in Siam. The remuneration is admittedly not high, but-' he sighed-'one gains one's reward in Heaven.'

'I should prefer to gain my reward here.' I was beginning to feel disappointed. 'I suppose you haven't any ordinary practices? I'm working for my F.R.C.S., you know, and taking up surgery and all that. I thought I'd better get a bit of G.P. experience first.'

'Of course, Doctor.' He picked up another bundle of papers. 'I thought that you wished to leave the country for some reason or another…Of course we have many practices. I wouldn't like to say how many bright young men like yourself I've set on their way. It's a sort of hobby, really. This'-he indicated the office-'is not my true habitat. Oh, dear me, no! You'd be surprised if you knew what it was. I have many interests. But once'-he became sad-'the life of one I hold very dear to me was saved by the skill of a young doctor. Now it is my only pleasure in life, helping such young men along their difficult path.' He looked as if he were about to burst into tears, and I was beginning to feel it was my lucky day. 'Some might call me eccentric, but-' He smiled faintly, and dabbed beneath his spectacles with a handkerchief. 'Forgive an old man's ramblings. I am always touched at the sight of a doctor at the threshold of his career.'

He became more business-like and continued, 'Here's, just the thing for you. Semi-rural in the Midlands-the Dukeries, you know. _Locum tenens._ I know the doctor personally. A most excellent gentleman and a fine clinician, a fine clinician. You will learn a great deal from him. And the remuneration, Doctor! All found and ten guineas a week. Not to be sneezed at, eh?'

I hesitated.

'It'll be gone by lunch-time, I guarantee.'

'Semi-rural, you said?'

'More than semi.'

'All right. I'll take it.'

'You're very wise, I think. Now I expect you'd like some money?' He chuckled. 'Forgive me, Doctor, forgive me! An old man's privilege. I know with young doctors things are often a little-strained. You'll need your books. And some equipment. Eh?' He drew an old leather wallet from his pocket, took out a packet of white notes, "and laid them on the desk. 'A hundred pounds would perhaps be of use to you.'