And other reasons why GPs are amazing…
I’ve been lucky to have some amazing GPs over the last few years. Whether it’s a consult for myself or another family member, I have typically started the process with thoughts of “Maybe I shouldn’t waste their time. They are unlikely to shift what I’m thinking anyway” and I have then typically left the clinic either with “Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that/thought of it like that” or at the very least I’ve left with reassurance.
My last excellent GP relocated last year and, despite the reinforcement of their value that I had experienced over time, for various reasons it was nearly two years before I went looking for another one.
I had popped in to a local clinic for scripts and flu shots, but I soon realised that the lovely GPs there were uncomfortable treating me as a patient. When I went for a repeat script of my antihypertensive, the GP I hadn’t seen before noted I was an emergency physician and then didn’t check my BP. I perceived this as a very respectful but passive approach and I sensed that there was a reluctance to give me advice I might find uncomfortable. This might have also been influenced by the GP and I being of the same cultural background. I figured I needed to make a further effort to find the right fit GP for me.
I have always valued a word-of-mouth recommendation, but an early challenge was finding someone who hadn’t been an intern in our ED within the last five years. Or so I thought. Under some duress, after a few days of vague symptoms that had caused some absence from school, I took my daughter to see someone who had graduated four years ago.
She. Was. Brilliant.
She took time, she was gentle and patient, she was careful and thorough, and she talked directly to my daughter – about why she was there but also about her interests and her friends.
I had told her that I was perplexed by my daughter’s symptoms, that I didn’t think there was anything sinister going on, but that I was worried about missing something important. She told me that she was perplexed also, but that she agreed there didn’t seem to be anything worrying, and suggested a couple of treatment options, and then review.
I know correlation isn’t causation, but my daughter was well two days later.
I felt relieved, but it was more than this. I felt safe. I felt that I could place trust and confidence in someone else to do the thinking, and that I could simplify my role to being a parent.
It spurred me on to find my own someone. Last week, I saw another recommended GP in the same practice for the first time. She took time to review my (fortunately bland) history to date, covered off all screens, and made risk assessments across my health profile. Predictably, there were a few parameters like my blood pressure, lipids and iron studies that could do with some, let’s say, optimising. This was not a surprise to me.
She sat back and said, “Okay, what can we do about this? Let’s talk about your diet and exercise habits. And your work”. We talked through all of this, and she became pensive as there seemed to be relatively little to improve. I took a breath and disclosed “There is something that I know is totally related to this, but I don’t want to tell you because I don’t want to change it”.
And so I described how I eat copious amounts of chocolate late at night, how it was a ritual I had developed (like a reward for not strangling anyone that day), and how I held on to it as an entitlement. She leaned forward and said “I totally get that. Your days are long and busy – you get to the end of the day and you need something. But is there something else you could eat instead? Because if you can improve all this, you can stay off cholesterol meds and the rest of you will probably get better also”.
I must admit that a small part of me considered asking if I could just start the meds and change nothing! But she persevered, “Do it for you”.
Now, nothing of what she said was a revelation. None of it was rocket science. None of it was unknown to me. But, somehow, her saying it to me, and the way she said it, made a difference.
Maybe it was because she really listened. Maybe it was because the advice she gave me was given sincerely and empathetically. Maybe it was because she looked me in the eye and said, “Do it for you”.
It’s only been seven days, but the chocolate I treated like my psychological lifeline has diminished in its importance. I’ve cut back my coffee to one a day (I thought reducing from two was a bit harsh, but she’s the expert). I haven’t quite upped my exercise, but it’s baby steps!
If it’s been a while since you’ve seen your GP, or you’re not quite with the right-fit GP for you, do it now. I don’t care who you are. I don’t care how fantastic you are at self-diagnosis. Just do it now.
