I shudder to think how rubbish I was once at being a GP. Patients really got a raw deal from the cowboy service I provided.
Not any more!
Thanks to the NHS Quality and Outcomes Framework payments that I receive (QoF - or GP targets) my consultations now go like this:
Mrs Jones: I can't sleep since my husband died.
Me: Er....do you smoke? No? [Tick...£££KERCHING£££]
Mrs Jones: I'm so dreadfully lonely. I've been having terrible thoughts.....
Me: Yes, yes, ok...now, how many units of alcohol do you drink per week? None? [Tick...£££KERCHING£££]
Mrs Jones: (pressing on) You know, doctor, I mean, like there is nothing to live for....
Me: Quite, quite. Now, we don't seem to have done your blood pressure in the last 15 months.....there now 140/80, perfect! [Tick...£££KERCHING£££]
Mrs Jones: (Bringing out rope from shopping bag) You see, I've even made plans doctor. You know, to join old Bill. I do miss him so (sob).
Me: Of course, of course. Now, I'll just put your shopping on the floor while I do this cholesterol test. There, now press on there while I give this sample to the receptionist. [Tick...£££KERCHING£££]
(I leave the room, and return a few moments later. Mrs Jones' chair is empty but her legs can still be seen in the shot, dangling over the chair, swaying too and fro gently)
Me: Now, where was I? Oh yes, Depression Index. Where did I put that questionaire (rummages in desk). Ah, here it is. Now, Mrs Jones, on a scale of one to ten.....
Oh, yes. Patient care has improved no end.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
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