It's unusually quiet here tonight, presumably as it's late, dark and pouring with rain. Some surgeries serve coffee or even hold a raffle. Not normally needed here, the draws are of a different nature: the prestige of being first in the queue (2 hours early is not unheard of, we've never run out of jabs but you can't be too sure) and the yearly chance to catch up on village gossip. ‘That doctor's leaving, he's the one who set up the new super-surgery’ (Really? So why's he still here 6 months later?). ‘That nurse has put on a bit of weight’ (Well she is now 8 months pregnant!).
The first patient, one of the Reluctants, pulls up his sleeve, ‘they’ told him to have it so he's having it, but it'll be your fault if anything goes wrong! Next is the Worrier, the young fit-looking lady, who when you check is feeling well today lists more problems than could ever fit on her EMIS summary page. She once fed her uncle's girlfriend's pet hamster when it was on its last legs and so has yearly vaccines as a ‘carer’. The Old Timers are last, coming in droves, sleeves ready rolled-up. They've survived two World Wars, this is simply something else to endure (perhaps even enjoy!).
The doctors try to conceal that they don't know their patients names (wondering if they ever did, and whose memory is failing). An older gentleman asks the senior partner, ‘Never seen you before young doc, are you new?!’ At least tonight you can do something for your ‘heartsink’ patient even if the consequences (sore arm, flu-like symptoms and more) are just around the corner
The truth is I'm a converted cynic, really it's great fun, I'm off to join in!
- © British Journal of General Practice 2011
