Quiet days

Sometimes, back when I worked in general practice, I would wish for that fabled, longed-for rarity: a quiet day.

Usually when the case I was examining was clearly more complicated than 10 minutes would allow, or as I watched the waiting room list grow and tried not to think about the other cases I’d already admitted that morning, and the multiple surgical and medical procedures I had yet to perform, while simultaneously considering the blood results from several inpatients and avoiding the telephone calls that were stacking up.

Practice life can be hectic, and it can be mentally and emotionally draining; it takes a lot of concentration and energy to mentally jump between orthopaedics, immunology, surgery, endocrinology, haematology and the myriad other disciplines you are faced with on a consultation-by-consultation basis.

Wouldn’t it be nice, just occasionally, to take a step back, take a breath and take your time.

Contradictory emotions

Of course, despite our wonders, humans are strange and contradictory creatures. When the stars align and somehow conspire to give you what you wished for – a quiet day – it produces a strange effect on the workload.

During a manic fully-booked evening surgery, you note the addition of yet another emergency appointment with a groan, or a sigh, or nothing at all because you haven’t even got time to get frustrated. Yet, if you add that exact same appointment into a nearly empty evening surgery, giving you plenty of time to sort out the problem, the feeling it provokes (in myself at least – and I’m very prepared to accept I am not a shining example of virtue) is a deep and almost unbearable sense of resentment and frustration.

Even a vaccination or postoperative examination is enough to bring on this feeling – instead of a clear shot to the end of the day, with the tantalising prospect of actually finishing on time, there’s only some actual bloody work to do.

Keeping busy

How strange that a consultation you would barely even notice if it shuffled into the cacophony of cases in a crazy night’s work inspires such ire on a quiet day.

Not only that, all those things you were going to catch up with on a quiet day have built up to an intimidatingly large pile that is often too big to even think about approaching, and (again, for myself at least) all that stuff still ends up getting squeezed between cases or slaved through in the dark hours after another busy day because it’s right before the deadline.

Busy days are tiring, but quiet days can be exhausting – the hours and the minutes drag, and you put a great deal energy into mentally repelling anyone from entering the surgery doors because you can’t face the idea that you might actually have to do something before you leave. Quiet days… ugh. Give me a busy day anytime, that’s my opinion.

At least, that’s my opinion until the next busy day…