Doctors are mythical creatures. You go to them, bleary eyed and aching, and somehow they know precisely what’s wrong. With a tap of their fingers, a magical remedy is conjured up and soon you feel in fine fettle. Said no one ever. Particularly Adam Kay, a former junior doctor, who wrote about his experience in This Is Going To Hurt.
From the opening, he reveals his own apparent ineptitude when he was starting out as a medical student thrust straight onto the ward. But not only that, his book is revolutionary because it tells the hidden story of the NHS. Everyone hears about how it’s a dying beast; that funds are being cut and staffing is down.
But then we scroll down to the next news story. But what does that mean in reality? Through his talk about triple shifts, more time spent working than not and even catching sleep in hospital beds, Kay does not paint an optimistic, nor reassuring, picture of the state of our National Service.
You would know. It’s like when you went to A&E with a bleeding leg, or broken arm, or a fever. Then you complained because you’d been waiting for 4 hours. Well, as it turns out, actually the medical staff weren’t punishing you by keeping you waiting. No, they were punishing themselves, relentlessly working, and if you were being pushed to the back of the queue, it should have been a relief because that meant that your problems weren’t as serious compared to those around you.
As written in the book:
“Medicine is the host who manages to keep you at their party hours after you first think about leaving.”
Perhaps that was something we all secretly knew inside us, though. That we’re never kept waiting out of spite, but due to staff shortage. But it’s like how many of life’s greatest messages aren’t surprising; it’s just that we need someone to tell us. And that’s exactly what This is Going to Hurt does. Trust me, you’ll never look at a doctor the same way again.
He also writes how the training, rigorous though it was, didn’t quite prepare Kay for the massive responsibility bestowed upon him from the outset, like having to deal with: gruesome ailments, unheard of sicknesses, births and even death. To sum it up, he said:
“It’s funny – you don’t think of doctors getting ill.’ It’s true, and I think it’s part of something bigger: patients don’t actually think of doctors as being human. It’s why they’re so quick to complain if we make a mistake or if we get cross. It’s why they’ll bite our heads off when we finally call them into our over-running clinic room at 7 p.m., not thinking that we also have homes we’d rather be at. But it’s the flip side of not wanting your doctor to be fallible, capable of getting your diagnosis wrong. They don’t want to think of medicine as a subject that anyone on the planet can learn, a career choice their mouth-breathing cousin could have made.”
You have to admit he’s onto something there.
There are of course hilarious anecdotes- of patients who enter the hospital for rather embarrassing reasons- and then somewhat inherently sad ones too. Like how the hospital staff have to pay extortionate parking prices. That sounds minor and trivial, but it meant that their losing 50% of their wage to a machine which, at the end of the day, would earn more than even them. And that machine doesn’t even know which way to put on hospital scrubs.
Oh, and a final thing I learnt from the book? Thanks to Kay’s detailed descriptions from his time working at Obstetrics and Gynaecology: that childbirth is brutal and somewhat disgusting.