Author: doctorlunners

GP, mum, lover of outdoors and food. And doing random things. Like going on bargain hunt.
Featured

The Devaluation of Doctors

On By doctorlunnersIn Doctors, drlunners, GP, Healthcare, NHSLeave a comment

I was reading our kids Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs yesterday. A classic that as an adult you realise is creepy-as. We get to the bit where Snow White (bless her cotton socks for tucking into the obvs poisoned apple) is laying there in her glass coffin and prince Charmsville comes along, instantly falling in love with a corpse. If you’re able to move past the necrophilia, here comes the real shocker. The story reads that it is when they are carrying her back to his pad (?!) when someone trips and the coffin accidentally gets tossed about, thereby dislodging the piece of stuck apple in her throat that’s been causing all the problems. There is no corpse kissing in the original Brothers Grimm version of the tale – that was Disney trying to sex it up. And like a fool I never questioned the saviour prince kiss. A kiss that is replicated across the Disney franchise and tells impressionable little girls they need a knight in shining armour. For anyone who’s interested, the original story also has wicked stepmother dancing in shoes of hot coals until she dies at the joyous wedding event of Snowy and Charmsville. You’ll be pleased to know they missed out that delightful detail in the version we have. Not that she didn’t deserve some comeuppance, but I’d rather my 4-year-old didn’t feel mummy endorses torturing until death as a legit punishment option even for her cruel misdemeanours. Overall feeling on the original story? Gives with one hand, takes with the other. 

This all got me thinking about how easily we can get sucked in to believing nonsense by people clever enough to sell it to us in the right way. It’s how advertising gets us all. On a darker and sombre note, it’s how some of the worst atrocities in our history have been supported by thousands – if not millions – of people. Right now, there are many, many Russians who believe that bombing the Ukraine is justified because Putin and his cronies’ have careful state-controlled propaganda telling them so. 

I want to discuss with you how I believe Tory-driven propaganda, supported by the media (such as our NHS friend the Daily Mail, or what I shall henceforth refer to as DF, Daily Fail), continues to churn out misinformation about Doctors and our NHS. This torrent of negative tripe leaves the public confused, and the medical profession feeling demoralised and devalued. I am a GP so it is maybe easier for me to see the impact on my profession, but equally I do not think it’s far-fetched to say the abuse is commonly directed towards GPs in particular. It’s more common to find a money-grabbing GP headline than that scoundrel oncologist, you know? 

Karen (sorry to anyone lovely called Karen or any other name referred to in this blog in a less than shining light, I’m just picking names for story-telling purposes)

Last summer I saw Karen in clinic for an ongoing cough. Nothing unusual there, until we get to the end of the consult, and she pipes up with ‘so when are you going to start seeing patients in surgery again?’ I look up in bewilderment at the patient sat in front of me clutching the prescription evidence of being with me in this very room with her. I give Karen the benefit of the doubt and take a scroll though her records over the past year, checking to see if she’d come in since we’d open up our doors to any appointment type – could there have been a chance she’d missed the free-for-all booking memo? No. Karen had been in to see a healthcare professional in person on an almost monthly basis for various ailments over the last year. So, I say to Karen in the most kind and un-enraged tone I can muster ‘patients have been able to book in person reviews for over a year now, and I see you’ve been in a few times. Can I ask why you think you feel you can’t see us at the surgery here?’ 

Karen goes on to explain that ‘it’s what you read about in the news’, referring to the most recent unhelpful headline churned out by the DF. We conclude the consultation, and I somehow manage a forced smile to the departing comment of ‘don’t work too hard!’ Well Karen, I have another 20 patient contacts on my list for the morning on top of the 30 I’ve already dealt with, so it’s unlikely that I’ll get the chance to piss anytime soon, but thanks for the well-wishing, I will bid you adieu until the next time we no doubt see you in this building, you know, face to face. Please save some of your unhelpful banter for that trip. 

Karen obviously had no idea how terribly demoralising that consultation was, and I’m sure she would probably be sad to know how incredibly frustrating her comments were. As crazy as they sound from someone sat directly in front of me, I feel like her slightly misplaced beliefs are quite commonplace. Let’s consider some other common DF-type gems that crop up, shall we?

‘GPs are lazy, and they work part time.’ 

Ok, let’s consider the above Karen scenario. The British Medical Association (BMA) recommends that the maximum number of patient contacts for a GP a day should be 26. The number of direct contacts I had in just that morning was at least 50. That means that in a regular day in General Practice now on average we are probably dealing with 3-4 times the BMA safe workload advises. That is before you add in every indirect patient contact, every result and prescription request you have come through. It is relentless. There are no easy or even easier days in General Practice anymore. Every time I walk through the front door of work, I know there’s a chance at some point I will be so exhausted that I may well make a mistake. After a 11-hour day (a day where I’m supposed to work 8 hours), I then have to wade through the paperwork generated. So, when Rishi says I’m having a ‘morning off’ what I’m actually doing is sorting out all the work I should have had time to do the previous day. Because I want to be able to write a decent referral onto the orthopaedic team, and not just trot out a ‘Hi, please see this leg, many thanks.’ I also really need to start chipping away at some of those targets we have as GPs, ensure all the coding is in correct order, or we quite literally do not get paid (if you believe GPs mostly get paid for seeing you with a cough and cold, you’d be sadly mistaken). Oh, and yes, it would also be nice to see my children from time to time. Does that make me lazy? Maybe it does, but if that’s the case I sure as hell don’t want to know what it is to work hard. 

To get to this point in my career, I have had to excel at school, get into medical school, fund a 5-year degree that left me with consequent debt extraordinaire, and survive through the sheer hell of junior doctor years. On my first day as a junior doctor covering surgery, I worked a 13-hour day where I didn’t eat, sit down or go to the toilet. I had a drink because some kind nurses thought they should probably look after another rough-looking junior doctor. That night I slept badly, partly worrying if some of the life-changing decisions I made were right, partly from leg and feet cramps from presumably not having had anything but water all day. The next day I get up and do it all over again. 

And what was I paid for that first junior doctor job? A little over £21,000 (2011). Currently junior doctors are being paid an average of £14 an hour. We’ve all read stories similar to mine above, but there are those that still chose to believe Tory and DF bashing that those doctors, and in particular GPs, are all lazy and entitled and don’t deserve to be paid any more money. For anyone who went into GP as a partner 20-30 years ago, life was a lot peachier. But the reality now is many practices are going under and handing back their contracts because they simply cannot stay afloat.  Not long ago I read a DF article about how GPs were all money-grabbing because we were paid to deliver the vaccines. So, it’s now not even good enough that at the time GPs were instrumental in delivering one of the only UK COVID success stories, putting ourselves at personal risk and giving up days of our life to deliver a service that created enormous additional workload. The DF believes we should have done it all for free? But I’m sure they also said we need to have a clap for our efforts, so that’s all ok then – we won’t be able to afford tea, but we will get by with that warm fuzzy feeling of a group clap. 

‘Doctors are arrogant’

I think this feeling needs to be aired as a slightly separate issue. There are some that treat me differently after finding out I’m a doctor. Not that I announce the fact freely – we all know some who take the news as a free ticket to use you as their personal physician. What I’m talking about is the almost extension of the inferior-complex date syndrome – where boys/men feel their self-esteem ebb away on finding out you’re a medic (disclosure that I’ve not experienced this, but I hear it’s a thing). It’s like as a doctor some believe you must know everything and be able to interpret the innermost secrets of your liver from just looking at you and are therefore some kind of intellectual threat. I mean huge spoiler, we don’t know everything, and I need an extensive history, examination and probably bloods and ultrasound before I can tell you much about your liver. 

I have no doubt other professions feel this too, but the problem is with being a public funded service is that those complex feelings of self-driven insecurity are exploited by the powers that be. It makes doctors, especially GPs, easy targets to portray as the arrogant band of millionaires that need taking down a peg or two. I absolutely believe that my job is important, that I deserve to be treated with respect, and that my work should be appropriately valued. But that is true of anyone who puts in a hard day’s work (including historically undervalued and unpaid childcare, but that is a story for a different day). If I ever gave the impression that I believe I was better than anyone I would be mortified, and I know the vast majority of doctors feel the same (save one neurosurgeon I once had the pleasure of assisting in theatre, he was the very advert for arrogance, but he was also short so there was also some short man syndrome going on there). The truth is we live in an economy that judges our work value by way of renumeration. We need to ask ourselves if it is arrogant of junior doctors to want to be paid more than £14 for what they do. Honestly, I think it’s crazy that is even debated. 

‘Sickly immigrants cause NHS bills’

This enrages me. The belief that immigration is to blame for the demand placed on the NHS. If it wasn’t for all these people the NHS would be fine, right? Brexit has given racism a very sad green light. It’s that feeling that as a group we voted for the belief that letting all these pesky immigrants into our pure England and dishing out lots of cash to a bunch of foreigners at the EU (for all those much needed and collectively beneficial causes) were key reasons why our NHS was going down the plug hole. Good on us, we’ve got back our sovereignty, saved our economy and the NHS and put two fingers up to the big man. 

How’s that all going now then? Oh yes, there is if anything less money for the NHS because that Brexit bus promise was a lie. And we are desperately needing qualified healthcare professionals to come work in the UK from abroad – something that many of them, very understandably, stopped doing when the over 65 population decided to screw us all over with votes to leave one of the best things that’s ever happened to the UK. So now we are having to fork out more money to entice qualified professionals over. And partly because we no longer have access to the markets in the same way, we have to pay through the tooth for medicines, and end up with a lot of shortages. There are many studies that show the burden on the NHS from immigrants is no greater than those UK-born, and indeed some clearly show usage is less amongst our immigrant population. Overall EU immigrants have a net positive economic contribution to the UK economy. But Boris and his club of COVID jingle minglers, together with the DF, told us that Brexit would be better for the NHS. And it still makes me quite genuinely sad that too many believed them. 

There are three main reasons why the NHS is struggling with demand: an ageing population, the rise of long-term health conditions and ever-increasing expectations. Unfortunately blaming the EU and throwing shade on doctors is a lot easier than actually dealing with these problems. It’s much easier than dealing with the catastrophe of social care and our broken society. It’s much easier and sexier than funding delivery of proper preventative medicine in primary care – something that would truly bring down the rates of life-limiting, money-draining long term health conditions like Diabetes, heart problems and strokes. And I believe it’s right that everyone should have an expectation to receive good quality health care, but throwing blame at doctors is easier and wins more votes than dealing with the epidemic of Karens demanding that they be seen for their fungal nail infection within the next 2 weeks. Expecting good quality healthcare is one thing, being an entitled Karen threatening to complain if she doesn’t get her nail lacquer is another. 

Before the inception of the NHS many people with any serious health condition had to choose between death or poverty. Analysts think that there was some kind of nostalgia element to the Brexit vote – a yearning for a ‘better time’ before joining the EU. I totally get that many of us hold a candle for our formative years, but the thing is, Mavis, times were not better. Back in the day treatments were very limited, and really nasty stuff like Polio signed a death warrant for many.  And yes, for the good of the planet we need to think long and hard right now about how many more people we want to add to it as a whole. But did you know every single person living in England is descended from immigrants? The first to call themselves English were likely descended from Northern Europeans. So, what are we saying, we only don’t like the types of immigrants who look and sound a bit different? Oh no, because we are also ok with the doctors and nurses who may look and sound different, we need them. I mean, not fully ok, because Mavis still thinks it’s almost a compliment to come out with ‘well, he was Indian…but he was lovely.’ 

Do I support the health care sector strikes? Concluding thoughts

Yes, I absolutely support them. If nothing changes Doctors will not hang around to be devalued. They will continue to leave. Doctors will find other jobs where they can earn lots of money and aren’t an unrelenting target of government and media-driven judgement and abuse. Or they will go to another country where conditions and pay are much better.  And then we all really will be quite screwed. But maybe it will be ok because we will be regressing to the ‘good old days’ where we all have to shell out for any healthcare. I know Karen was probably just a bit confused about the mismatch between what she’s read and her actual experience. But I think we can all help by opening our eyes to what is happening. I’m hopeful the tides will turn, and the outlook may become more positive when the Tories are inevitability booted out. Let’s hope all the junior doctors are still around when that time comes. 

And you don’t need a knight in shining armour girls, but you do deserve one. They thankfully don’t come in the form of necrophilia or puckering up for a smooch though. I think they come more in the form of the guy willing to get up night after night to look after your newborn (shout out to my hubby there!). 

Really interested in your comments and discussion on this one all!

In consideration of a rat’s backside

On By doctorlunnersIn Uncategorized1 Comment

Today has been tough. Youngest child is being potty trained, and, after some early success, this afternoon there were two unapologetic toilet stops on my kitchen floor. It got to post kiddie bedtime, and I found myself reaching for my phone wanting that quick endorphin hit from some social media post. Then flicked selfie photo mode on to check out if there was a shred of attractiveness left in my exhausted working mum of two bod. Photo taken, I then consider the myriad of options to enhance and edit said photo…

And then I stopped. What am I doing?

I’m a well-educated woman with a fantastic job and a beautiful family. How do I think my self-worth could possibly come down to an edited selfie?

It’s totally ridiculous when you think about it. But I can guarantee you most of us have had times where everything has rested upon how good we think we look, often as a judgement or comparison to someone else. It makes me cringe inside thinking about it. And mad. It makes me mad that society at large beats us with an image-conscious stick. It’s outrageous we think at edited selfie makes or breaks us, but that is exactly what we are told every day by media coming at us from all angles. And what do so many compliments come down to? What do all of us love to hear?

‘You’re looking lovely today.’

‘Your daughter is so beautiful.’

‘You have the most gorgeous eyes.’

‘You’re looking amazing for *insert age milestone/life trauma/child-related ageing event*’

I received a patient complaint several years ago. Whilst the complaint itself was a bit odd (the guy was annoyed I had explained to him the reasons behind investigations requested, when he had asked me to explain said investigations), I was most cheesed off that he had described me as the doctor who looked late thirties. I think I was 28 at the time. How to twist the knife eh.

The problem is it doesn’t stop with an edited selfie. Caring about how you look in a photo is one thing; editing it is you telling yourself you do not look good enough just the way you are. And it’s all part of the mentality that we must present ourselves in a certain way to have worth, to be accepted.

It wouldn’t bother me so much I don’t think if I didn’t have kids. My eldest is a girl – refuses to wear a dress of skirt, wants shortest hair, the only girl in her football class. My youngest is a boy – wears all the dresses eldest refused to, has pink flowery wellies, angling for my nail varnish. And I want them to be exactly who they are, whoever they want to be, do whatever they want. Apart from urinate on the kitchen floor, they need to not do that.

I’ve thought about this a lot. I think the only way to be truly happy is to truly not give a rat’s arse about your selfie. Or about what some random may or may not think of that selfie. It makes us all feel good to get dolled up, to know someone else finds us attractive, but there’s a point where it becomes unhealthy and wholly distracting from what is important in life and to our own health. We should all feel that we have the freedom to be happy without the shackles of self or others judgement on how small/big (delete as appropriate for what’s on trend for the decade) our bum is.

The photo on this log is my selfie from this evening. Unedited. Full of imperfection. And I can’t say I’m fully there, but I’m much closer to not giving a rat’s arse than I used to be.

Self-criticism: how most of us do it and why we shouldn’t

On By doctorlunnersIn Uncategorized1 Comment

I want to share something I’ve only discovered recently. From the outset, I think it’s fair to say it’s not radical, and I won’t be offended if you don’t fancy being schooled at something you’re not only aware of, but bosching like the brand new kitchen appliance you are. It’s only dawned on me in one of those light bulb moments. Note: I was going to insert another Bosch reference here, but a google search has informed me there are infact things that Bosch does not produce. And it includes light bulbs. Who knew.

So here it is (the recently discovered thing I mean, not a list of things Bosch do not produce. Sorry if anyone was expecting the latter and is now flicking to a different blog in search of product truth).

We need to stop beating ourselves up.

By beating ourselves up, I’m referring to the self -loathing internal dialogue our mind plays out during the day. And night – although I have no idea where we are on the neuroscience of dreaming, so not elaboration there either. Man I am disappointing people today.

Our mind is absolutely amazing isn’t it? The things we can learn and process, are far, far beyond the capabilities of our primitive ancestors. But the trouble is, it’s not all fabulous. If we think a lion is coming to eat us, we would most likely do some adrenaline-related activity like running. For our ape ancestors, that’s probably where that fun would end. But as humans we may also ruminate over why we chose that picnic spot in the first place, and we may, albeit hopefully rarely, develop an anxiety about picnicking across the board because we are relating the scone-laden occasion to being attacked and potentially brutally killed.

My point is, we are incredibly complex. Far more complex than we understand. Writing that just put me in a weird understand to understand thought loop, which a bit like the vastness of the universe makes me go slightly crazy until I can break the thought cycle with chocolate. Or ‘tomatoes’ as my New Year’s resolution would have it. The way I see it, all of our complexity has caused us a shed load of mind problems. I’m not sure if you can get a clinically depressed lion, but I’m guessing if you can the incidence is probably lower than in the human race (and in areas where prey is happily picnicking ). I’m happy to be challenged on that though.

I don’t think we deal very well with our complexity. Day to day, we process stacks upon stacks of information and expect we will churn out ok– because we think and assume that’s what everyone does. How often do we stop to actually think about how some event has made us feel? How often do we stop to check in on ourselves period? How often do you give yourself a break?

I think one of the problems with where I’m heading with this is too many of us look at self-care as either a total indulgence, or only what other people need. Holistic rubbish like meditation and yoga is what other people need because they can’t hack going for a run. I can’t possibly need to do stuff like feel because that is for people who are failing at life. If I indulge in mindfulness for myself, who will do the dishes? And what if someone finds out that I’m so weak I need something life self-care in my life?

On the subject of indulgence, indulge me. Re-read that last paragraph. I know I’m being factitious, and I have no scientific evidence to back me up, but I would bet money on that thinking sloshing around in the mind of most people – some more conscious or it than others perhaps. I know that that is how I used to think, and to some extent still do think. My one hope for my own growth isn’t how many more letters I can get after my name, not how many tennis matches I can win, or even how many vaccinations I can dish out (although I hope for the good of humanity that number is significant). My one hope is that I can embrace self-care and see it for what it is: a critical part of a less stressful, happier life.

Back to the topic of this – self-criticism. One of the big misnomers about self-care is that it involves having a bath once in a while, or dishing out the pennies on a massage. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love a massage, and part of my self-care will continue to have massages forever more, but the truth is self-care is much more than a massage and is really bloody hard work. That mindfulness being banded around like it’s the new fad? Well, firstly it’s not new, turns out it’s been around for centuries, and, second, it’s probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And I feel like the reason why it’s so hard is that we aren’t trained to do it. Everyone’s keen to teach us about algebra and plate tectonics (and anyone who knows me knows that I love both of these), but no one is keen about teaching us how to be present, to train our mind from constant wandering and planning, how to recognise our own feelings. And how to recognise self-criticism and prevent it from invading our everyday life.

So, here’s where I’m at. I’m making progress with the mindfulness. But I’ve hit a road block with the self-criticism. I’ve been fannying about to 2 weeks avoiding admitting to myself my own self-criticism, because doing it feels like a huge invasion of me, my life, how I’ve been taught, and what I think is true. Writing it down is a big step for me, so I thought I’d make it a Neil Armstrong giant leap and tell all of you aswell.

Here is an insight into what I’ve criticised myself about today:

I woke up at 7.30, thought to myself that the kids should be awake at 07.00 because that’s their routine, so I think I’ve failed before kids are even awake. I go downstairs and realise my other half has been awake with my eldest since 06.30. I feel awful because today is the one day I should be looking after the kids (hubby works). So then I over-compensate and exhaust myself by announcing I will take on all the tasks like getting the shopping with the kids, putting the washing on, clearing up the kitchen. I go shopping with the kids – I de-ice the frozen car, and forget my gloves in the house, which again incites some self-hate for my poor thumb which now feels foreign body-like. Driving down the road I realise there is some frosted snow dusting off the top of the car – which causes more self-criticism  – I am now one of those twats who freely drives along unaware of the potential obstruction caused by flying snow. Post shops, eldest has a meltdown because she wanted to help me put the shopping in the car, I forgot she did announce this en route to shops, so now I think I’ve failed at that.

Let’s add up the obvious self-critical thoughts pre 10 am – 5. And I say obvious, because I have no doubt that there are numerous other little self-critical nuggets creeping in there without me knowing about it.

Post 10am, and it’s time for more self-criticism. I take the kids out on a walk. I take the double buggy in tow because I am well aware of how ‘give me a carry’ these 2 can get, but have immediate self -criticism for my parenting as both scramble for a golden buggy seat (kids not walking = lazy parenting belief). We get to the park and play the never-ending train stop game, where mummy and youngest child have to conform to train stops plucked out of the air by a 3 year old. During this enthralling 20 minute game, my mind starts wandering to what needs cleaning at home. And then I feel bad because I’m not mentally engaged with my kids enjoying this precious time with them. So through criticism and self-hate I  drag my mind back to the play park. Both want to go back in the pram getting home. Eldest wriggles around and gets her foot trapped – wails. More self-criticism – why do I even parent when I’m such a train absent-minded, leg hurting, routine-neglectful mother?

We get home and I’m exhausted. In midst of exhaustion, I notice the washing load has finished, so I go about putting it into the dryer. Hubby comes in, asks if drying cycle is on delicate (so newly purchased cycling gear does not get destroyed). It hasn’t been, so I’m again full of self judgement on my lack of ability to remember such things. During the kids lunch, I nip to other side of kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee, and return to jacket potato mayhem. Again, criticise myself for not being mother-on-demand with hawk-like potato oversight. I grab 5 minutes to check updates on my distance learning diploma – notice one of the tutors has picked out another student for excellent work, and immediate thought is how very unqualified I must be at anything.

All of this is before we’ve even hit midday. And this is on a day looking after kids. Before clinic has even started at work I’ll be self-criticising how I’ve responded to blood tests, wording of referrals, how I didn’t know about certain referral pathways. At the end of a working day I will rarely reflect on the patient who went out of their way to thank me, I will be ruminating over decisions made and actions left until the morning.

You may be wondering if I’m actually ok with all this self-criticism. I am, I function pretty well day to day, I’m not depressed or anxious. But I feel that that it’s kind of amazing with all this self-hate every day, day after day. My thoughts towards myself are so awful I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy. And I am almost certain most of us have similar pitfalls.

Is this self-criticism helpful? No, not in the slightest. It serves only to leave me more disheveled at the end of the day. I believe that some of us feel bad for not feeling bad – like if I wasn’t self-critical about my parenting it would mean I don’t care, which is terrible in itself, so it’s better that I crack on with the self-criticism.

But it doesn’t need to be that way. We can drop the self-criticism, be more self-compassionate, and all be much better for it. I can catch myself when I’m going down the I’m-a-failure-for-putting-clothes-in-dryer train of thought and offer myself an alternative. No-one asked me to do that washing. It was only done as a result of a self-critical thought earlier in the day. Next time, maybe I need to give myself a break and leave the washing if I can. But if I happen to be a total screw up and put it on a cotton dry, hubby is unlikely to have a personality change and fly off the handle. The world will not end. Or at least I hope it wouldn’t; no-ones ruled out the theory of dinosaur extinction by cotton dry setting. 

And I will still care just as much. Giving myself a break doesn’t mean I am a psychopath (who, just for interest, classically lack the ability to feel guilt).

So there it is. Self-criticism, self-compassion and giving yourself a break. I challenge you to look at your day thus far and note done critical thoughts you’ve had. Then think about what you would tell a friend if they had such thoughts. I really hope they wouldn’t tell you to hate yourself for not being fully engaged with every Olaf-related train stop at the play park.

Lunners as a patient

On By doctorlunnersIn Uncategorized2 Comments

So it’s been a while since I’ve blogged. I guess we’ve had the small issue of a global pandemic to be dealing with, which took some key people by surprise. By ‘people’ I do not refer to the scientists, WHO officials and many other talented individuals who were screaming and shouting about COVID for a long, long time. I am meaning those kinda people who let Cheltenham Horse Racing happen in March.

Anyway, I hope you like me are thrilled with the scientific community for pulling their socks up and coming up with some nifty vaccines – let’s hope everyone understands the concept of herd immunity. Unfortunately experience tells me they don’t, which doesn’t matter if you’re going to have the vaccine, but kinda does if you’re going to object to it on the grounds of Bob at number 17 having a sore arm for 3 minutes post jab, an affliction which may or may not have be attributable to the vaccine.

Getting on to the matter at hand. I wanted to share with you a recent experience of mine.

In the early hours of an otherwise unnoteworthy December morning, I crawled around to the other side of the bed to tell my husband that I unfortunately needed to be taken to hospital. That niggly tummy pain I’d been having on and off for 2 years? Yeh, that had got worse over the last few days, and much as I wanted excess beans to be the causative factor, it was becoming clear that classic ‘vegetable-induced-abdominal pain’ wasn’t the likely diagnosis.

First things first, we had to sort out how I was to arrive at A&E at 4am. Calling an ambulance was a bit extreme given we have transport. But we needed someone to stay with the kids, or, ya know, that would be dangerous and illegal and stuff. So we rang my mum. The same mum that says ‘anything ever the matter call at anytime.’ So we called. And called. And called some more. Until Chris (hubby) gave up and drove to her house, and was only able to wake her by combination of a large siren and small earthquake. Anyway, mum turns up and off we trot.

Covid means that you aren’t allowed anyone with you in hospital at the moment. I’m not ashamed to admit that the image of my husband leaving hospital when I was possibly in the most pain I have ever been in, coupled with a feeling of fear as to what manner of vegetable could be the cause, made me feel more vulnerable than I ever remember being. A&E was exceptionally busy – ambulances waiting outside, patients in trolleys lining the corridors, nearly every seat taken. So there I was, in exceptional pain, scared, and in the midst of a sea of other people.

In one sense, I was fortunate that my ‘patient pathway’ from A&E was pretty straightforward. You see, pain in the right upper bit of your tummy is deemed to be of a surgical cause until proven otherwise, and so you may be lucky that the nurse who initially assesses you in the emergency department will ring up to the surgeons and palm you off onto them ASAP- and in doing so relieve A&E of another body taking up space. It also means I don’t need to sit in a corner of the emergency department waiting for some poor emergency doctor to get through their unassailable list until they finally reach me.

So I walk up to the surgical admissions unit with my allocated charming and chatty HCA. On reflection, I probably should have taken her up on the offer of a wheelchair – I stood significantly hunched over because of the pain, but, because I have some unhelpful belief that getting help means I’ve failed as a human being, I rejected the offer of an easier ride. Upon arriving at the surgical ward, I saw the registrar on call within half an hour. I’m not entirely sure what happened in that review, but I know it ended with someone decent painkillers – and I have never been more grateful for anything.

I’m not sure how long I was sitting in the surgical admissions unit, but I reckon it must have been most of that day, because dinner was being distributed around the bays when I hopped into my bed. During the day I was entertained by a number of delightful individuals (names anonymised incase the 5 people who read this may know them). Shannon was one of those who thought it was appropriate to let everyone know her medical history, and repeatedly so, through multiple telephone chats with what sounded like anyone and everyone who would like to her. Apparently, she had been ‘play fighting’ with a ‘mate’, and said she had ‘punched them in the face’ for ‘fun’, and that they had retaliated by punching her in the stomach. Despite the fact that Shannon appeared very well, and had a booked scan within hours of her admission, she felt vindicated in sharing with all how she’d inappropriately been waiting for hours, along with other delightful reviews of the service provided. Unfortunately, Shannon’s scan was at a similar time to my own, so I also had her accompany me in the waiting room for ultrasound scan. It will likely come as no surprise to you that Shannon was later discharged home.

That day I had two further reviews by more senior members of the surgical team. You know they are senior because they are followed by juniors, who are usually visibly in shock at how awful surgical on calls can be whilst they desperately sift through notes to find a blank sheet to scribble something useful on, and transcribe jobs needing doing to an endless list they carry. ‘On calls’ are what we name those shifts we do out of normal hours. So anytime you are seen during the night and weekend, it will be by the on call team. Go easy on them, that team is also looking after most of the other patients in the hospital – it’s not a huge leap of compassion to realise you are unlikely to be in most need of their help.

The second senior doctor come to review me was an exceptionally hot registrar, who, if I wasn’t fearful of my body failure, I may have assessed for suitability to one of my single friends. Things being as they were though (and recalling a doctor’s ethical code…), we instead chatted about my crappy pancreas and gall bladder, and phrases like ‘jaundice,’ and ‘need for IV fluids’ and ‘stay in hospital’ got thrown in. It appears that a stone from my gallbladder had got stuck in the duct that goes through the pancreas en route to the gut, and had thus caused inflammation of the pancreas (‘pancreatitis’).

Let’s take a time out to consider non-essential organs and the trouble they cause us. Appendix? Little bugger. Wisdom teeth? What’s the point in them. Gall bladder? Not only is the gall bladder’s sole function ‘storing bile’ (it doesn’t even produce it, that’s the liver, which, coincidentally, does a shed load of other things at the same time), but when it goes wrong it causes all sorts of problems for Mr-next-door organ minding its own business.

So I’m on my bed in the ward, nil by mouth (not allowed to eat to you and me) to give the pancreas and gall bladder a chance to rest, watching water drip into my vein. A little different to my normal pace of life, but we now thankfully have a whole life to explore on our mobiles, so I set about letting people know that I won’t be able to play tennis on the account of having pancreatitis and all. I trundle my drip stand over to the loo when needed, past the elderly lady with dementia, who shouts ‘NURSE’ every time I past in a deafening scottish boom. Later that evening, instead of once again explaining that I wasn’t a nurse but would get help, I went to fetch her the towel she requested – to which I received an ‘aye, and it’s about time too.’

The following day the lady opposite struck up a conversation – it seemed she had been admitted after a routine procedure for observation. We had several conversations around me being a possible relation to her Devon-based family doctor. I’m not, but I’m still not convinced she believed me. To be honest, the argument was so compelling, I’m not sure I believe me.

At midnight I was swept up and transferred to a different ward. The news hit a little hard, because I know the ward I was going to was what we call an ‘outlier’ ward – it’s not part of the main wards, but opened up when there are no beds, and it’s normally for people who are more able or less sick. I was, however, hugely grateful for the extra slept gained from a quieter ward that night, and it became apparent by morning that I was much improved. Unfortunately the following day brought Doris-the-human-drain to the ward. Doris who, when she wasn’t asleep snoring, was awake and sharing all that was grey in life and the world with her new found friend. The friend seemed pretty normal and chipper to be honest, I’m not sure why she was so paly with the drain. Maybe because she knew her discharge was imminent.

Consultant ward round in the morning saw consultant plus hot registrar plus junior pop round, the conclusion to which was another scan needed (to check about the pesky stone), with a plan to whip out gall bladder ASAP all being well.

The scan was an MRI of the gall bladder area. I now have sympathy with people who feel claustrophobic, or who take a dislikening to having an MRI. It is really quite an unpleasant experience – the tunnel isn’t what I’d call roomy, and the MRI machine is very loud. What made my experience slightly more odd was the story playing through the headphones (used because of how loud the machine is. It was a fictional one of how the ebola virus spread and was wiping out the world. Not the best choice for a relaxing podcast when patients are in a tight tunnel, scared for their health, well aware that half the patients in the hospital have Covid. The other odd thing was the accent of the voice played when asking you to breathe in and out (which is important to get particular images). I listened very closely to this on the 9 or 10 occasions it was said during my MRI party, and it definitely sounded like ‘brathe on, brathe out.’ What does that mean?! Anyway, it lasted 15 mins, and I departed back to the ward after giving what I felt was constructive feedback on the choice of headphone chats and clarity of instruction.

Next day, I find out I’m on the list for being under the knife. Deep brathe on.

When a surgeon tells you they are going to try to do it ASAP, you kind of don’t believe it until you’re being wheeled into theatre, because there is not an insignificant chance that a more urgent case will come in and (appropriately) jump the queue. The most odd thing I found about the whole surgery experience was my pre-operative chat with a male nurse. He was asking all the tick box questions needed for surgery, when the anaesthetic registrar came in to chat through, well, anaesthetic type stuff. I mentioned that I had my period, that I’d forgotten to mention it to the surgeon (classic patient), and asked about practicalities. The male nurse then said how he was glad I’d brought it up, it was on his checklist, and how he was intending to get one of his female colleagues to ask about my time of the month. I don’t think I’m being particularly new-age to feel that this is a question a male health care professional should feel ok about asking, and that women should feel ok about hearing from a male in this situation. This was a senior staff nurse – I wonder what had happened in his career for him to feel this way.

Round in theatre (isn’t it weird that we use this word for places where both plays and surgery happen?), I am hugely thankful to have what appears to be a highly competent anaesthetic aswell as surgical team. The consultant anaesthetist noticed I was cold, and got me a warm blanket, which I kept until discharge. I know much bigger things happened in that room, but I found it to be a very kind and observant gesture – something that did not need to be done, but that did make me feel a lot better after surgery.

And this I feeling I went home with the following day. During my 5 days inpatient stay, I had interactions with multiple staff, across multiple departments and wards. The hospital was on red alert, beds over-flowing, staff busier than they should ever be reasonably asked to be, yet there were so many acts of kindness and good willing at a time where I felt incredibly vulnerable. A registrar that saw me quickly at the end of a busy night shift so I could get pain relief; a nurse who stayed 4 hours after her shift ended because there was work still needing doing; a HCA who spent her lunch break taking me to a scan because my blood sugars had dropped; a caterer who spent an hour rummaging around the ward and A&E to find an elderly woman’s missing shoe; a registrar who came to see me after my surgery even though his shift was finished and there was no need to review me; a consultant who took the time to answer all my questions even when there were many, many more people to review. I work for the NHS, so I admit I may be bias, but I think we all too commonly forget about how absolutely bloody wonderful the NHS is. There are things that go wrong, and always things that can be improved, but by and large it’s an absolute miracle it provides the service it does. I hope one day Shannon and the drain will realise that.

Note to self: ‘Shannon and the drain’ – quite a good name for a rock band.

What makes you happy?

On By doctorlunnersIn coping, Depression, Doctors, drlunners, eco-friendly, GP, Healthcare, mentalhealthLeave a comment

On this gloriously miserable Friday morning, as the sky insists it still has some water left to dump on us, hundreds of people in the UK are in the throes of a flooding disaster, and the world is poised on the brink of a likely viral pandemic, I’ve been thinking about what actually makes us happy. To be clear, people wading through water in their lounge and Coronavirus do not make me happy, but it all does make me think about appreciating life, and how we all spend far too much time not really living our lives.

I don’t mean this to be some deep dive into the meaning of life – when I start thinking about that I get palpitations thinking about the vastness of the universe and what the chuff went on with the big bang (or big bangs, plural?!Oh no), and come to the conclusion that’s probably what most people do and it’s best to skip to the conclusion of 42. What I’m getting at is, given that we are all milling around for x number of years on this tremendous planet, what makes that milling a good mill. When we are 100 (let’s think positive eh?), what will make us look back and think ‘that was a good innings’?

Materialism

Yesterday I spotted a daily fail article on fast fashion mountains – huge swathes of clothes people had thrown out. I can’t pretend that I keep pace with the changing seasons of fashion, but that’s mostly because I can’t understand why anyone would want to. I obviously need to buy clothes, and it’s not that I don’t want to look nice, or that I don’t enjoy the odd designer treat, I just don’t care that mustard is en trend this autumn. I rarely enjoy clothes shopping. And I think herein lies something to ponder. While I could sit on my judgmental laurels and point fingers and those serial fast fashion offenders, is that actually fair? I mean, I don’t think it’s fair to judge anyone as a rule (but let’s be honest, we’ve all done it at some point), but just because I don’t really care about Gucci, is it right to start hating on the person who does?

So there’s the obvious environmental aspect to this – we should all try to avoid buying single or short life anything, and try wherever possible to get quality and organic (lots of companies advertising this now). But there’s the other aspect to this that is why is keeping up with fashion so important to someone? I’m sure there are people who truly love it, and it is to those few people I would argue let them have their joy without judgement. But I have no doubt the vast majority become a ball of trend because that is what the pressure of our society has made them.

Consumerism can be damaging

The more I think about it, the more it enrages me that we grow up believing that we must have *insert whatever possession* to not just be happy, but to even be able to function on the same playing field as we think the next person does. We are constantly bombarded with advertisements of things that promise to make our lives easier, better, more streamlined. And what makes it hard is that occasionally one of these things may actually just do that. But mostly? Mostly it’s just crap. Crap to make someone money. And we want to believe that the perfume, the deodorant, the dress, the hair straightener, is going to make us irresistible to the opposite sex. And they all may do, but I think we all know that no one ever loved anyone because their hair was shiny. I totally get that we all like to look nice (my view is on a basic level that can make us feel good) and that we all have a strong preference for our other halves to not actually follow through on the I’d-marry-you-in-a-bin-liner on our wedding day, but I think we all have a regular tendency to take it all too far. And it’s detrimental to our health and our happiness.

Happiness

This brings me onto happiness. To look back at a good innings, surely this means that you’ve had a fulfilling, happy life. At face value this seems easy enough to understand. But is it? I think happiness is another term that can be misunderstood a little. To be happy does not mean that you are happy the entire time, and that any lapse in happiness means you have failed to attain happy. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I genuinely think we have become wired to think that to be happy means we have to have that warm fuzzy post-comfort-food-infront-of-fire feeling all the time (note to self, I want comfort food and fire). No one is that happy always, because it’s impossible. To be happy we are almost certainly have to do things that are hard, uncomfortable, and difficult at times. Graduating from medical school was one of the happiest days of my life, but I couldn’t have done it without painfully memorising many biological pathway whose names now escape me and I’m sure most doctors.

Fulfilling is another term I think can be misunderstood. In my humble opinion, fulfilling (and happiness) does not mean running around like a blue arsed fly 24/7 until you have been a successful mother, wife, employee and homemaker. Fulfilling does not mean fill your life literally – productivity and success on their own do not make for a fulfilled or happy life. Fulfilled means living a full life. With that comes the importance of self-care, of taking time for yourself and what you enjoy.

Do what makes you happy

So what does actually make you happy? Is it actually Gucci? (right now imagining many people saying ‘yes, it’s Gucci, give me Gucci’). We all have to tidy the house now and then (note to self, must tidy house, in laws coming this weekend), but can that wait until we’ve taken time to do the things that make us happy? All too often the first thing we give up when we are stressed, everything is too much, is the one thing that keeps us sane. Because it’s usually thing that we need for our own self-care, we classify it as a luxury in our mind, and we worry people may judge us for having the audacity to indulge such frivolities. It is not a luxury, it is the very thing that keeps us going, maybe even the thing that should define us more than anything. We should and need to do that thing on a regular basis. So today do the thing that makes you happy – go for a bike ride, read a book, make a pancake (go on, be a lent rebel), jump in muddy puddles with your children. Make it your priority. I’ll be running around a tennis court with my kids. And then enjoying that comfort food by the fire. Yum.

Saving the planet but losing yourself?

On By doctorlunnersIn climate change, drlunners, eco-friendly, savetheplanet2 Comments

I’ve been a bit quiet over the last couple of months. I mean I’ve been a bit quiet on here – disappointingly for my husband it’s generally difficult for me to be anything other than loud in every day life. My eldest daughter has recently found her chatty voice and my goodness it is like a reflection of myself. I can totally see why I am super annoying/embarrassing sometimes/always.

Anyway, I’ve been a bit quiet. The reason being that December and January are pants. Like proper baggy knickers-on-their-last-legs pants. You have that glimmer of hope in December with Christmas, but then you hit January and you lose all hope that life will ever be the same. We all become hugely melodramatic and start hating on Jeff who somehow wangles two weeks in the sun. And I’m not saying February is much better, but now I’ve seen some daffodils come up and the council have starting mowing the lawns around where we live. So I’ve declared it spring and now I feel much better.

Being Eco

I’ve been wanting to chat about the eco train for all of the above quiet time. What do you think about it all? I’m thinking most normal people would agree we all should do our bit to help the obvious creeping disaster that human driven climate change and generally ridiculousness will bring. It really does get my goat when I am forced into some encounter with a stupid person whose convinced the American orange man is right and ‘climate change isn’t a thing we’ve done.’ They are like the anti-vaxxers, can’t reason with them and it’s just going to cause more stress for you to try. Incase you’re interested in the evidence that human driven climate change is a thing, I think the best reads are from the IPCC – The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. That and listening to anything David Attenborough says, because he’s a legend and ever since I saw the Orangutang quite rightly going mental at a digger trying to destroy his home, I spend far too much time checking everything I buy has sustainable palm oil.

Which brings me to my blog question: given you aren’t a stupid person/orange president, how do you think we should all go about saving the planet in our day to day lives? Most decisions I make could involve a more eco option. And should I be joining an eco group and going on these protests?

Let’s think about things we could all consider doing. Interested to hear your thoughts on anything obvious missed here.

The more obvious choices

I wanted to quickly throw out the stuff that I feel has been on our radar for a long time. I’m talking about how much we use cars, particularly diesel engines, and making more eco friendly travel choices. What a hugely positive decision to bring forward the diesel and petrol car ban. There is the ongoing dilemma of where we source our energy from. While most of us don’t like the idea of burning our way through fossil fuels, how many of us would be ok with paying a premium to have a renewable energy option from our suppler? We switched recently, and it means making sacrifices elsewhere. Huge disclaimer: I’m in no way a climate change saint. I have a GTI and love it, and probably partly hope that haemorrhaging money to our renewable energy supplier may mean I won’t be condemned to eternal damnation.

Moving on from afterlife contemplation, reducing paper usage is another known eco biggy. These days we have the choice of using technology for eco friendlier options here. Back in the day, you had to have a paper ticket entry to the cinema, now the cool kids swan on through cinema control effortlessly flaunting the QR code on their iphone. And don’t be sitting there thinking you’re totally onboard with the new age techno, I know you too have no idea what QR stands for.

Reduce single use

We are surrounded by single use things, and stuff we don’t even think about. I think most people would agree it was a good move having shops move away from plastic bags – and now I think about it, isn’t it pretty outrageous we lived quite happily for so long with this being the norm?! I think a couple of great examples of our tendency towards huge single use plastic crap comes from Christmas and Birthdays.

Christmas

Christmas. How much single use stuff do we all happily invest in year after year? Buying multiple presents, because Bertie may be offended if you dare turn up with one. My beef with present and card buying is buying them both just for the sake of it. I personally love getting a card when I know the sender has bought it because they know I’ll love it, it’s funny or it has some meaningful message written in it. But why do we bother spending the time, effort, energy and resources on a card of generic genericness, and write ‘to you, from me’ in it? And equally, but in my opinion worse, do the same for presents? I’ve become a huge fan of buying experiences for people. One of my best friends announced we are going to do a girly spa day this year as our Christmas presents for each other – who doesn’t win from that plan? Well, my husband doesn’t because he has to look after the kids. But otherwise, great. Then there’s buying second hand. There are some super deals I’ve got from facebook marketplace from clothes to dolls houses. Why do we feel like we have to give something to someone in ridiculous packaging for it to be worth anything or to show someone we care? We shouldn’t. And if the recipient of said pressie only values packaged gifts, I suggest maybe re-evaluating your relationship with them. No-one likes a spoilt little Bertie. It goes without saying that with gifts comes wrapping paper. If we need to wrap, it doesn’t take a great deal of effort to get the stuff that can at least be recycled.

Then there’s the Christmas tree. I’m not sure it’s a smashing idea to be getting the cut-your-own Christmas tree. You’re cutting down a tree, and then shipping it off with the garden waste after a month. Surely it’s better for the environment getting a plastic tree you bring out every year? The last few years we’ve tried to get onboard with a local rent-a-tree scheme. From an eco perspective this has obvious upsides to the cut-me-down, just don’t let any small people become attached to the tree you get every year. Ours took a turn for the worst so Chris-the-Christmas-tree looked suspiciously different in height, width and species last Christmas.

Then there’s the crackers (argh, so much plastic tat), the throwaway polyester Christmas jumpers, the mountain of wasted food. The list is really pretty long and depressing for waste at Christmas. I’m not being captain Scrooge, I just think we all need to consider not being so ridiculous. The plastic 5cm ruler in the cracker doesn’t make Christmas, it’s family and friend time that does. It’s so cheesy I’m cringing writing it, but I honestly think we lose sight of that so often. I would genuinely much rather someone make the effort to see me, buy me a coffee and talk to me than send me a generic card with generic present. Also, I like karaoke. Bonus points if we go sing instead of coffee.

Birthday parties

My daughter turned 2 a couple of weeks ago (poor little tyke has January birthday, Mummy will forever feel bad), and we had a party with over 30 kids. Yes, it was impressively awful at some points BUT the sum total of rubbish thrown away was one dustbin liner. I hired out a local ‘party pack’ for £10 – someone had put together all the crockery and table linen you could want (found on facebook, lots of places have someone going them now). I bought a personalised fabric birthday banner from one of those online fancy places – we can hopefully use it for many years to come, or until someone vomits on it. I didn’t do party bags because, let’s be honest, you only shove any rubbish you can find at short notice in them, and I would have had to re-mortgage our house to fund the lovely eco friendly ones. And I encouraged everyone not to buy her presents. Please don’t be thinking she went without, even before the party she’d been overwhelmed with family presents, to the point that her cousin helped herself to the opening of many. I found one today she is still yet to open, how is that possible.

Other single use stuff

I’m trying to move away from buying any plastic water bottles (what a scam in the first place, well done capitalism), and using reusable coffee/tea cups. I’ve invested in some silicon based washing up brushes – there are lots available if you google that, they’re great and easy to shove in a dishwasher cycle to clean. I’m looking into getting onboard the beeswax wrap for food, having previously invested in stretchy lids – they’re great but found they can’t cover everything. I’ve invested in bamboo reusable make up pads (not that I now have time to don such luxuries), reusable sanitary wear (yes, I said it boys), and am currently dabbling in using shampoo soap bars. The dabbling soap bar usage and the stretchy lid dilemma bring me to an important point – things aren’t as easy as they seem sometimes. The limited stretchy lid use means I still have to use clingfilm, and the last load of soap bars I had came wrapped in plastic.

Shopping

The plastic wrapped soap bar moment brings me to chats on our general shopping. As I tuck into a croissant that I almost certainly shouldn’t be eating, I am reminded that this joy is not only bad for my mum tum, but also comes with an almost bewildering amount of packaging. For my sanity I’m trying to organise my main shop by click and collect at our local Tescos, but this is coming at an obvious downside that I have no option to use more eco friendly packing options. The single garlic clove comes in a plastic bag. If I was to do an in-store shop, I try where possible to get unpackaged stuff, and to take my own bags to anything loose.

And this is where my eco thoughts start tipping over into stress. I genuinely want to try my hardest for the planet, but I also need to get food in for my children and be sane enough to live. If I forget my bottle at the gym, is it ok for me to buy a plastic bottle so I am able to quench my thirst during fitness yoga? Or should I suck up that no bottle means no water, almost certain distress for most of the class, followed by oasis-in-dessert crawl to water supply at the end? How far should we all go down the eco train without losing ourselves in it? Or is it right that an eco-life should be the very focus of all our lives now? I don’t pretend to know the answer, but I do know how stressful modern life is, and to live a as eco as I’d like to would take more time and effort. I would love to source all the fruit and veg I could from my local farm shop, but the truth is I don’t do that every week because I prioritise some other chore (or, heaven forbid, a break).

There is also that obvious mine field of what we should be buying. The mass production of clothing is a huge environmental burden. Our fast fashion culture swallows more water than most of us can imagine. So obvious answer here is to buy quality that will last longer. But what about washing clothes? I’ve recently started to throw away the occasional heavily soiled toddler clothing because I figure it would take more resources to clean it than to buy another pair of trousers. Is that right? Thinking back to the orangutang, is it right that we buy sustainable palm oil or should we boycott it? Would it be replaced with something far worse if we tried to boycott it? We know all of the cows everywhere is bad for the environment, so everyone goes vegan and starts being hippy with their avocados, soy and almond milk (me included) – all of which are also bad for the environment. Do we have to live in a mud hut, wear one piece of organic clothing our entire life, eat the occasional fly that comes by and ease off on the kid production to call ourselves a true eco warrior?

I’m being facetious. My point is once again a little cringe – I believe that if most people made an effort within their means to make eco friendly choices, big impacts would follow. I don’t personally believe that getting on-top of a train at Canning Town is how to win the fight against climate change. I get there are people who are really quite miffed at state of affairs, but stopping Dave getting to work is just annoying. I believe that if most people prioritised more eco friendly choices in their lives, then politicians would be forced to make it big policy, energy companies would be forced to offer renewable options as standard and producers would be forced to offer sustainable options. But there is no incentive for the big people to make changes whilst we all are happy with not accepting responsibility for our every day decisions.

Little people, big changes

I passionately believe it is the little man or woman who can make the tide turn on this. It has already started happening. But how many more years are our kids going to have to hear the statistic ‘we lose a football pitch of rainforest every minute’? It’s not solely the guy in digger’s fault for taking away the Orangutan’s home, he may only be doing what he can to provide for his family because me sitting in my first world sofa would like that particular sliced wholemeal bread wrapped up nicely with a use by date of next week please.

So let’s all try to make better choices. Talk about all of this more. Share ideas. It’s good for the environment and I think good for the soul – how many eco friendly choices are also good for our health aswell? That’s not a coincidence. There’s no need to go full on no-cow if that’s not what you want, you don’t need to lose yourself and become a scrambled mess of climate guilt. Just a need for awareness, shift in priorities, balance and sensible decisions.

Coping – a skill seldom taught

On By doctorlunnersIn Anxiety, coping, Depression, Doctors, GP, mentalhealth, Mothers, NHSLeave a comment

Today was one of those days. Why do ‘one of those days’ happen? Does one unfortunate blunder happen and someone somewhere decides you’ve now signed up to a day of similar delights? I’m guessing we just notice these delights more. Either way today was one of those days. The highlight was my waving goodbye to 13 years no claims bonus and a wad of maternity pay by reversing into a lovely lady’s car. I then drove to a bodyworks place where the guy did his level best to not judge my lack of knowledge on basic repairs, insurance claims and the registration number or make of my car. One of those gem of conversations where you are fully aware you are doing feminism no favours.

This all got me thinking about how we cope when things are a bit tough and I guess is a follow on from my previous blog on mental health and life-is-tough syndrome. There are a lot of recurring coping strategies that I find come up both in my work and in life in general.

How to cope is never something we are taught, or generally talk about when we are blossoming teens. It’s like filling in a tax return. If we were all taught how to fill in a tax return and how to cope at school I think we’d all be a lot less stressed at the end of January. But no, we have to learn the recorder instead. (Disclosure: I loved playing the recorder).

Obviously how to cope can be a very personal thing, but here goes a stab at what I think are common coping tactics.  

Be kind to yourself

So I drove away from the literal car crash earlier and stopped half way up the road to have a cry about how stupid I am. Yes, it wasn’t my finest moment, but it really wasn’t a disaster, accidents happen and could have been a lot worse and all that. Unless you’re a narcissist (google it, I guarantee you’ll know one), we are all generally very quick to find some kind of fault with what we do. Our automatic reactions are too often full of badness, and moreso when we are generally not feeling great and in huge need of some positive response. I think it’s really important to stop the downhill spiral of negative reaction – par example, today I got from I’m stupid to I’m an awful mother very quickly. We all make mistakes, and life is tough, we shouldn’t be so hard of ourselves. It’s cliché but remembering to be kind to yourself can save you a lot of heartache.

Accept that it’s OK to have bad days

When I follow up patients with Depression I try to explain recovery from a bout of low mood doesn’t mean every day will be better than the last. Recovery will have dips, but over time the general trajectory should be up and the dips should be less black hole-ish. I (hopefully) remember to tell people that it’s good to remember this for life after recovery. It is OK to have bad days. It’s OK to have times when you’re not 100% or you’re not ‘on it’ like yesterday. I think we have a tendency to over analyse crappy days and we catastrophise events that really don’t need the drama label. It all causes us unnecessary stress, and that is never helpful.

Accept that OK is good enough sometimes

I think it’s important to be OK with things just being OK. Now I’m exposed to the mothering world, I’ve seen another example of how people find it difficult to not be excelling all the time. I see mothers anguished by the thought of little Johnny not wearing the gillet that matches the particular outfit Aunt Suze got him, and distraught at the prospect of him missing one swimming lesson (meaning he will ofcourse fail to meet every developmental milestone for at least the next 10 years). It is OK if little Johnny doesn’t have matching socks on for nursery. It is OK if he has one meal that isn’t home cooked from your nurturing mother hands. Little Johnny will survive. And I daresay will probably turn out less weird than if we persist in stressing over the constant necessity of waitrose finest in little Johnny’s life.

Pick your battles

Sometimes OK is good enough. Alot of those times when you need to accept ‘good enough’ will be when you are very aware things could be great, but to get to great involves a lot of effort on your behalf. I’m thinking of those classic work situations. You know that improvement could be made, but is it the right battle for you to take on right now? Lots of things in our lives drain our energy without us really thinking about it. Just getting through a normal day for many of us involves a lot of mental baggage and thought processing. It’s right to take on the battles when you think they are important enough, and you have the battery reserve to do it. But fighting every battle will not end well for you.

Make time for the important and the simple things

Imagine you are 80. You are looking back over the lions share of your life. What will you smile at remembering? What will matter to you? What will you be proud of have done? I’m skating close to the cliché again, but I’m reckoning all these things will have something to do with moments with family, close friends and maybe significant career achievements. This evening my daughter wanted to read The Gruffalo. On the 3rd time of reading, I was DONE with that mouse and his persistent wood strolling. But she wanted it one more time. So we cuddled up and read it a 4th time. And that made my car crash day good again. Make time for the simple things in life. It’s what makes a life a life and not a daily trudge to the time you can watch Love Island again (Disclosure: I have definitely had days where my highlight has been watching Love Island. Shameless).

Be present

Mindfulness. One of those things you’ll have heard of, maybe given a go, decided you felt no better after it so went back to worrying about Little Johnny’s gillet. I went through a phase of trying to do some mindfulness practice regularly. But then busy-ness happens and things fall by the wayside. Like flossing. Flossing and mindfulness, both definitely on the wayside list when things are busy.

But I try to take one thing from mindfulness – I try to be present when I’m doing important things. Like being with my 4 month old. We are sharing a moment where he’s finding the squeaky giraffe-cow type rattle hilarious. I try to enjoy being in that moment rather than let my mind wander to the pile of poop stained leggings from my potty training toddler, or to the grand total of fridge contents standing at one onion and a questionable stick of celery. Yes, both of these things have happened in the last week. I am too aware that being present (including literally) for all the moments you’d like to be isn’t reality, but even when we are super busy doing this once a day should still be achieveable. Being present means you can actually experience (and therefore live) moments, rather than floating from one tesco shop to the next.

Make time to do the things you enjoy

One of the symptoms of Depression is losing interest in things you used to love. I always find this symptom very sad. Feeling like the joy has been taken from you is pretty terrible. One thing we advise patients suffering with this to do is try to keep doing the things they used to love. Because one day it’ll start coming good again. And, although Depression and struggling a bit are very, very different, I do think that too many of us let the things we enjoy go by the wayside. Another thing to add to that wayside list. What we enjoy tends to come bottom of the priority list, because of the very nature of it – it’s what we enjoy, so we see it as an indulgence that we can’t possibly flirt with now we are adults and have responsibilities like not crashing a car. But making time for things you enjoy is hugely important. Again going back to the when-you’re-80 – you’re probably not going to remember that Saturday you dusted the house particularly well. But you may remember making time to read one of the classics. Making time for yourself does not make you selfish. It makes you more robust. It makes you less likely to hit rock bottom.

Be honest

This is a real bugbear for me in this age of social media and my-life-is-so-tremendous posts. Don’t be that person. That person is rarely genuinely happy with themselves, and for some reason gets a kick out of persistent my-life-is-better-than-yours statuses. All these do is make people who feel vulnerable feel worse, and make you (as in the perpetrator of these status irritants) strive to achieve the next ‘like’, as if your very existence needs to be validated by some chuff you’ve befriended online but you see on the 5th of never. I’m not saying don’t ever share goodness, but constant updates is not good for anyone involved. No-one is ever constantly that happy. Same applies for when you catch up with friends. I know I have a tendency to want to portray the beacon of coping motherhood, but it would be more cathartic for me if I was more open about honest. Goes back to the blog on mental health and talking more. Being honest when we talk. That’s key.

Don’t isolate yourself

The honesty with friends thing leads quite nicely into this nugget. Don’t isolate yourself. Again, withdrawing from social times is a common symptoms of Depression. And again I think we can all take something from this. How many times have you had some get together planned but decided 2 hours before that it’s dark and raining and you cannot to bothered to leave the well-bedded corner of your sofa to catch up with Gazza? We’ve all done it. But how many times have you forced yourself out and rolled in from that night out proud of yourself for making the giant leap out of the comfy corner? Many, many times. I’m not suggesting you say yes to every social event (also in my opinion not a healthy thing to do), but it’s important to stay connected, see your friends and family. We rarely feel worse for being round true friends. But we can definitely feel better for it.

Radiators versus Drains

I can’t remember where I first heard it but I wish everyone knew this analogy. Some people are radiators and others are drains. Radiators are those people who shine with positivity. Drains are those people who seem to leave you feeling like all the colour of the world has been sucked out. We spend far too long worrying about supporting the drains. We worry that we have to remain faithful to that person no matter what the cost to ourselves or our mental health. Being around a drain does nothing for any of us. It’s important to choose to spend time with the people who are healthy for us and our mental health. Drains can pull you down their plug hole of coping despair.

Get outdoors

I want to make this my last point. Just recently prescribing the outdoors has become a thing in Scotland. Whilst I think it’s pretty ridiculous we’ve got to the point where ‘the outdoors’ needs to be on a prescription for some people to get outside, it really does show how disconnected we are with the world around us – and how appreciating nature can help our mental health, and help us cope better. Being outside offers so much, yet so many of us will consistently choose to spend our time shuffled away indoors. Next time you feel like you can’t cope try going for a 10 minute walk. I bet there will be a part of you that feels better for it.

Final thoughts

Today I tried to tick off a lot of these coping gems, and now I sit here and realise I don’t feel so bad. It’s still a bad day, but I’m OK with it being a bad day, and that makes it better.

So go easy on yourself, be honest about how you’re doing, see your radiator friends and family and make time for yourself and the simple things in life. You’ll cope with losing your no claims better and your 80 year old self will thank you for it.

Mental Health – more talking, less labeling?

On By doctorlunnersIn Anxiety, Depression, Doctors, GP, Healthcare, mentalhealth, NHS, overdiagnosisLeave a comment

Did anyone know that Dwayne Johnson (you know, ‘the Rock’) has suffered with Depression? Yes ok, maybe you didn’t and maybe you don’t really care (in the nicest way I’m sure). My point is the wrestler is one of a string of celebrities and high profile figures who have put aside their fame and fortune to talk about how mental health has brought them to their knees at one or more points in their life. Money can’t buy happiness and all that. If you don’t know who the Rock is, google him (but also, how do you not know who the Rock is?). Yes, money and muscles do not make you immune to the black hole of Depression.

Depression and Anxiety

I’m going to limit my mental health gambit here to Depression and anxiety. They are ofcourse epic topics in themselves, but what I mean is I’m not going into the psychotic stuff. It’ll get too complicated, and I’ll start needing to remember psychiatry terms like folie à deux. That’s French for the eagle-eyed amongst you. It’s when one person in a relationship has some delusion and the other person in the relationship jumps onboard the same delusion wagon. I nearly went into psychiatry training, but decided my brain felt far to pan-fried with all of the thinking that needs to go into therapy. I feel it’s preferable for you to not be sizzling away at 3am for your career to be sustainable.

How we actually feel

So anyway, the Rock. Let’s start by thinking about some wise Rock words – ‘You’ve got to talk about it, and you’re not alone.’ Excellent and on point, Dwayne. I’m a huge believer we are not good at recognising how we feel, and when we do, we aren’t good at really acknowledging it, and even worse at doing something about it if those feelings aren’t terrific.

Think about it. What do you feel right now? You’re automatic reaction is to almost dismiss the question as being far too simple or touchy-feely. We are used to people asking us ‘hi, how are you?’ as a passing comment as we run to our next social function. And more often than not we ask the question in a way that is geared up towards only being receptive to a positive-and-short-response. How many times have you just said ‘good’ without even thinking about it?

So, what do you feel right now? Happy? Peaceful? Helpless? Angry? Worried? Frightened? Pained? Weary? Interested? Bored? Don’t say bored, throw me a bone.

It’s hard isn’t it? Before we even talk about it, we have to recognise it. We should be able to recognise what we are feeling at any time pretty quickly but we can’t because we don’t think about it enough.

Labels – are they healthy?

Let’s take a peak at what happens further on down the line – when people are diagnosed. When it comes to having a ‘diagnosis’ of Depression and Anxiety I feel that many patients fall into one of two groups – those who want to/are happy to have that label, and those who avoid doctor lunners and her sort at all costs because they don’t want that label, thanks very much. I think the former group mostly feels it’s helpful to have a diagnosis so they are able to have a solid explanation as to why they’ve been feeling so bloody awful.

The more experience I have though, the more I think that labeling people with a diagnosis may not be entirely helpful. And I think that’s true of many conditions – I feel like we have become a bit label-happy in medicine. When we write in your records as GPs we have to ‘code’ what you’ve come in with, or what your condition is. There are some great ones. Like ‘struck by macaw, initial encounter.’ Makes you leaving wanting more that one. Did the macaw return?

Whilst I get why coding needs to happen, and there are times where having a diagnosis is helpful, I do wonder whether our need to have a label in society hasn’t been helpful in recognising and treating the depressed or anxious people who really need help. I wonder if my clinics are seeing too many of the people who are finding life tough but who aren’t actually suffering with Depression or Anxiety, and seeing too few of the people who are definitely in need of help. Let me explain before you accuse me of being an unsympathetic sod.

Berny

Berny (not real, patient confidentiality means I can’t blab about anyone. But great name right? Not enough Bernys in the world) comes in because her boss is giving her grief. She’s taken off a bit too much sick leave and they want a note for the last week of absent Berny. She has three kids and struggles with not finding time for herself. Middle child is having problems at school, and her mum who used to help her out a bit can’t at the moment because she’s broken her leg. And it’s November and it’s raining.

I cannot tell you how many times a week I see a Berny in clinic. And before you say it, I pretty much always feel for Berny. But Berny is suffering with life-being-hard syndrome, and not a mental health condition. There is a big and important difference.

The symptoms

Let’s look at the features of major depression. To be diagnosed with this you need to have had persistent low mood or loss of interest in enjoyment in things you used to love. For at least 2 weeks. This needs to be accompanied by at least three other symptoms, like feeling of worthlessness/inappropriate guilt, no energy and thoughts of death. It’s all pretty intense.

To be diagnosed with a generalised anxiety disorder (there are lots of specific other anxiety disorders, but let’s not get our complicated pants on), you need to have been excessively worrying, and finding it difficult to control that worry for at least 6 months. And other lovely stuff needs to go with this – like persistently feeling on edge, real difficulty concentrating, being irritable or easily fatigued. And there needs to be at least 4 other physical symptoms – like trembling, palpitations, feeling sick or dizzy. Again, it’s all weighty stuff.

Back to Berny

My point is Depression and Anxiety are not life-is-tough syndrome. After a particularly delightful clinic one day I had a chat with a colleague who had a standard Berny consult. When she got round to trotting out the requested sick note, she’d hit a blank. Since writing ‘Life’ down in the reason for work absence is generally frowned upon, she scribbled down a bit of low mood.

I get it, life is tough. And tougher for some more than others I’m sure. I honestly have sympathy for that. And there are definitely times where life-being-tough does tip over into Depression or Anxiety. But in my experience the vast majority of Bernys who rock up in clinic are just needing a good vent, some helpful chats on coping mechanisms, and a standard doctor rant to pass onto their employer who should not be bumping them to their doctors for a sick note for less than 7 days off work.

Unfortunately what actually happens is Berny has a tendency to end up with an inappropriate label of Depression or Anxiety, or both if she’s really lucky. Usually because her symptoms are flirting with possibly ticking off a few diagnosis boxes (some of the criteria like not sleeping has so much grey area they’re a murky winters day), she’s in clinic with same presentation for the 4th time, and her mate Bazza was put on Citalopram so please could she give those bad boys a whirl.

It is my honest opinion that this is all not helpful for Berny. She’s ended up on a drug that isn’t going to fix her social problems.

And this widespread attitude is not helpful for any of us. It is fantastic we are all talking about mental health more, that we are getting better at booting out the I’m-so-weak-for-being-human stigma. But we do not need Depression or Anxiety to be used willy nilly. It devalues using the diagnoses at all. If everyone is labelled with it, when does it all become normal? And on that note, let’s talk about how common these things are.

1 in 4 people

Dwayne said it, you are not alone. 1 in 4 people will have some sort of mental health problem every year. That is a lot of people. Whilst I do wonder if too many Bernys are included in that stat, there are also too many people still not getting the help they desperately need. I can guarantee you now that there is someone you know who you think has life sorted that is suffering from an episode of Depression or Anxiety who hasn’t cashed in on any help yet. After you’ve probably given some thought to who that lucky gem could be, let’s think about why this is.

British stiff upper lip. The old stigma chestnut. The I’m-better-than depression or anxiety. It’s odd, we apparently spend a lot of our time trying to prove our worth or prove to ourselves and others we are ‘better’ is some or all of the ways. It’s exhausting. Why do we do it to ourselves and those people we supposedly call our friends? No-one ever comes out of those conversations feeling good.

Ignoring something that is adversely affecting your daily life is not healthy, and will never end happily. Yes sure it may seem super easy to just ignore this elephant in your head rather than try to deal with it, but Nellie isn’t going anywhere. Despite having some awareness of how awful they feel, some people can’t truly admit that they may have a mental health problem. If Depression was a broken leg, we wouldn’t ignore it and crack on with the hobbling. We’d accept we need to get help. And a bit of plastering.

But Depression and Anxiety are much harder. They don’t have a bone poking out of the leg to convince you something is wrong. They involve having to recognise and admit your feelings. And then talk about them. Yes, I said it boys, you need to talk to about it. Medication can quite literally be a lifesaver in some circumstances, but I see the pills more as a life raft in stormy waters. I know, so much cheese, but it’s the best I’ve got and you’re still reading so pipe down.

The real crux of long-term help with depression and anxiety is in the talking therapies. Medication can get you to the point where you are able to face life, to feel that you’re not so consumed with low mood or worry that you cannot function day to day. But to really address the problems you need to talk it out.

Final thoughts

We all have issues. We all have beliefs that aren’t helpful. And the truth is many, many of us will suffer with a bout of depression or anxiety in our life time. And that is OK. Just like breaking your leg doesn’t make you less of a person, neither does feeling debilitated by worry. What is not ok is ignoring how you are feeling. That and asking Berny to see her GP for a sick note.

The next time you see a friend ask them how they are. In a way that is genuine and ready for a real response. You may be the help they need to figure out better coping mechanisms in our frantic lives, or you may be the person to help them get help for a debilitating mental health problem.

Fat shaming – right or wrong?

On By doctorlunnersIn Body image, GP, Healthcare, NHS, ObesityLeave a comment

When I was in my late teens we jetted off for a sunny trip to wonderful California. Much fun had all round spotting a Grand Canyon and fearing for my life whilst my mother navigated the winding roads of Yosemite National Park. It’s strange what memories stay with you. A few of my most vivid memories from that trip are the sheer number of morbidly obese people and the enormous food portions. I remember sitting in a MacDonalds and have a McFlurry treat – they were twice the size of the ones back in the UK. I ordered a side of potato, and I was dished up a whole jacket potato. As a SIDE dish. Crazy.

Somewhere around then I developed a bit more of an interest in Public Health, and I’m now a strong advocate for prevention rather than cure in GP land. Many of you will know that the UK is doing a fantastic job of playing catch up to the USA with its obesity numbers. Is fat shaming helpful in tackling the problem?

‘Fat Shaming’

The term ‘fat shaming’ has been banded around quite a lot in recent years. My main issue with it is that people who feel discriminated against because of their weight don’t seem to be motivated to drop a few pounds. Infact, there’s a bit of evidence to say it makes us put on weight, do less exercise, or binge on the crisp cupboard.

So it turns out that humiliating someone into doing something may not be great. I don’t think this should come as a huge surprise. But there is a big difference between not humiliating someone and not addressing the problem period.

Health badness

Being overweight or obese has well known health consequences. Stuff like high blood pressure, high cholesterol, type 2 diabetes, fatty liver disease, heart disease, cancer…so much badness, but it feels like just as more evidence gets trotted out about how awful it is, more people are slipping into the high BMIs (body mass index, one of the common ways we measure how your weight is doing.  It’s not infallible but now is not the time to debate its merits. You can check out what your BMI is here).

Do we think these things aren’t going to happen to us? Do we think that medicine can just solve it if they do? Do we think that everyone is a little bit podgy and they’re still standing so it’s ok?

‘Everyone is a bit podgy’

A patient once said to me that she’d never ‘be skinny’ like me. Firstly, thanks, you can come again for calling me skinny. But seriously, at the time I was far from skinny – according to my BMI, I was overweight. I feel like our relationship with weight is so unhealthy now that we’ve seen a shift in what we perceive as normal weight. For some people, what used to be overweight is now largely perceived as normal, and it’s only when you’re quite obviously obese that we start thinking that you may want to shed a few pounds to avoid the old ticker snuffing it.  The risks start going up when you become overweight. That’s BMI over 25.

‘Medicine cannot solve everything’

I don’t think people really consider how bad the health consequences are. Let’s take type 2 diabetes. Getting diabetes isn’t just about the need to take a bit of medication a day, or possibly needing to inject insulin. It’s about the risk of having a heart attack, a stroke, or losing your legs, losing your eye sight, losing the feeling in your fingers. Yes, sure, medicine is great, but they cannot take away the risks associated with having type 2 diabetes. The truth is if you are obese, you risk dying early or suffering from some problem that will mean you won’t be able to run after your grandkids as well or fully enjoy that cracking retirement you had planned. Also just to tip money into the mix, you cost the NHS thousands of pounds if you run into all these diabetes complications. Not wanting to spark a debate about NHS resources and entitlement, just thought it’s worth a mention.

Body image

I just had to go have a breather after bashing out the reality of having type 2 diabetes. Feels harsh saying it how it is. On the subject of harshness, let’s talk about body image and how we agonise daily over how ugly we are.

None of us are immune to it. Let me go back to my reaction to the patient who called me skinny. My automatic reaction was how bloody wonderful that someone thinks I’m thin. We grow up with a constant stream of worth-only-with-attractiveness in our faces. I am very much aware of this now I have a little girl. 9 times out of 10 the first thing someone will say to her is a comment on how she looks. We all do it, me included. From before they can even understand what you’re saying, we are effectively telling our kids be beautiful or be nothing.  And then start the constant media stream. It’s a wonder any of us are sane. Fat shaming plays on our fear of not being beautiful, and therefore not good enough. That’s my other main gripe with it.

Lifestyles

I’m a big believer that most of our lifestyles aren’t super duper for our health in general. Our lives are so busy, we are quick to pick up the easiest thing for lunch, have breakfast on the go, slip into 2 pizza nights a week. I think it would be much better for us to slow up. Accept that you cannot be everywhere, go to every social function, reply to every text within the hour. How great would it be to give yourself time to prioritise and enjoy sourcing some of your food from local places and having time to cook nutritious food? Because that’s what used to happen right? People had to take time over making bread from scratch because they had no option. Now even if we want to make said bread, we feel like we couldn’t possibly because our lives are so busy. And there’s Hovis.

Your weight is a function of how much food you demolish and how much you burn through exercise. My other lifestyle bugbear is how we think about exercise. I was watching a Peppa Pig episode (as is my TV viewing these days) when mummy sheep said to Suzie sheep she’s working today running and jumping at the gym, to which Suzie replied ‘that’s playing, not working mummy.’

It’s sad that a lot of us feel like exercise is another chore we need to do, and that doing it normally involves a trudge to the gym. Getting our weekly 150 minutes moderate exercise (as are the guidelines for adults) can involve so much more than the gym. I mean, fabulous if you love the gym, nothing wrong with that, but there are so many more ways to get your exercise in. In my opinion, walking is fantastic. It also gets you outside and is great for your mental health. There are a load of sports you can get involved in to tick off your exercise goals – cycling, tennis, and, as the NHS website advises, rollerblading. Bit random, not sure how many patients will have dusted their roller boots off and got back on it after seeing that advice, but you never know. There are also lots of things that we can do in our daily lives to get in our exercise – doing the housework, lawn mowing, running around with the kids.

Disclaimer: I’m a member of a gym, I love it, but I also think they tend to create this divide of people-who-can and people-who-can’t. How often do we see obese people in a gym class? I rarely do. How often do we see people who are training for their 5th marathon and standing on their head whilst waiting for the yoga class to start? Regularly. I think gyms could do more to encourage everyone to get moving.

Childhood obesity

I want to say a word on this because having an obviously obese child walking into my clinic is one of the most heart breaking things I see. 1 in 5 of our 10 year olds are obese. Obese. Not overweight, obese.

I find it so sad because we are setting those kids up for a lifetime of health consequences. And then the stats are that their kids are more likely to be obese! 8 in 10 kids who have 2 obese parents will be obese.

We need to do more as parents. I get it, I know it’s hard being bothered to switch off Peppa and get outdoors when you’re so exhausted you wonder why we don’t get to hibernate through winter. But instilling healthy habits in our kids sets them up for life. If we can get them enjoying some form of exercise, whatever it is, they will have that for life and enjoy all the benefits, which include but are not limited to health (talking about things like self esteem – which links back to body image). If we can instill a good, healthy relationship with food, they will be far less likely to hit the walkers crisps every time things are tough in life.

Final thoughts

I say all of this like I’m currently sitting pretty with a normal BMI. I’m not, so huge solidarity if you’re in the same position. After having my second kid I had a stark realisation that I was slipping towards obesity. So I decided to do something about it.

Fat shaming isn’t helpful. But it also isn’t helpful for us to avoid telling people they are overweight. And whether you think being big is beautiful or not, it’s not healthy.

What I think we need is a healthy relationship with our body. And that relationship forms and grows from a young age with the guidance and support of our parents. If how we approach food and exercise is healthy, then I believe a normal body weight would follow.  

Hannah and Ally. And Bargain Hunt.

On By doctorlunnersIn Bargain Hunt, Doctors, GP, Hannah and Ally, HealthcareLeave a comment
Bargain Hunt Newbury Fairground filming day – with David Harper and Charles Hanson

I want to introduce you to my friend Ally. She’s the one in beaming away in the back of the golf cart of the above pic.

Ally is glorious. She also spends her time healing the sick and telling people they don’t need antibiotics as a GP. But in her spare time she has joined me in appearing on Bargain Hunt (which it turns out is more competitive to get into than medical school). Super time had all round. The bargain hunt team are genuinely lovely and all A-ok about us not knowing much about the antiques business. Not to give the game away but it turns out that knowledge however may have been a little helpful.

The huge upside of getting on the show is keeping the trademark Bargain Hunt fleeces. And quids in for us – we did our filming over the summer so we all got a polo shirt to keep because producers clearly thought sweaty contestant look wasn’t great for the viewers.

It’s a slightly surreal experience being on TV (when you’re used to dishing out tonsillitis advice I mean). When you’re watching TV you don’t really every think about the filming that’s going on – apart from the endings of the Blue Planet, which show you in some detail how it took 50 people 10 years to get the few second dolphin sequence that you missed because you were replying to a text at the time. The filming crew are HUGE. So many vans. So many people following you around whilst you flounder over some disasterous antique purchase. And interesting bit of knowledge from the sound crew – they have to stop filming whenever any light aircraft goes by because it screws up all the sound really badly. I don’t think I’d have the patience for that job.

I had just had my second born when we were on our first day of filming. If anyone wants to know what it’s like to express milk in the middle of a field at an antiques fair whilst you wistfully gaze at cows roaming in nearby pastures, it’s weird. But also strangely liberating.

Anyway, the point of this blog apart from introducing Ally and sharing a milking-with-cows experience, was to say that new experiences are good! Go do something you’ve never done before this week! Even if you hate it, at least you’ll know you hate it for sure. And you’ll have something else to blog about.

If you want to check out the episode that Ally and I snuck in to it’s here – only available until the 4/11/19 so get cracking! Or don’t if you’re really not interested, we totally understand.

Ally and I are starting up a youtube channel focussing on health chats accessible to all. Kind of a (hopefully) friendly GP shindig with some useful thoughts and information. You can check it out here. Hope you enjoy! Or laugh. At least laugh.