Further Confessions of a GP

I instantly regretted the informality of my response, but I often find myself slightly less reserved during the early hours of the morning. It’s as if patient-doctor etiquette has a vaguely different set of rules at night. Either that or I simply become increasingly inappropriate the more sleep deprived I become.

‘I reckon my nickname trumps yours,’ Kenny declared triumphantly.

‘I suppose, but you’ll have to change yours when you stop taking crack. I’ll always have a big nose.’

‘True,’ he nodded. ‘But I reckon I’ll always be Crackhead Kenny,’ he added ruefully

I wanted to ask Kenny why he was in prison, but it was none of my business really, so instead I stuck with the more conventional question of why he was in hospital.

‘Well, I fell over and these clowns are covering their arses, so they wanted me in here for a check over.’

I looked over to the prison officer for some sort of response but his face remained expressionless. I wondered exactly what it would take to prise any sort of emotion out of him.

I started scanning Kenny’s medical record and noticed with some surprise his date of birth.

‘We’ve got exactly the same birthday.’

Kenny looked at me oddly.

‘We were both born on 6 March 1977.’

‘We’re time twins!’ Kenny shouted enthusiastically.

‘Yes, we are,’ I replied smiling, unable not to be caught up in Kenny’s infectious drug-induced gusto.

‘I tell you another thing we’ve got in common, Dr Ben. As a boy I always dreamed of being a doctor. I wanted to do something good with my life. I really wanted to help people and make them better. I also liked the idea of driving a nice car and flirting with lots of sexy nurses.’ He gave me a wink. ‘Although I think I might have left it a little late now,’ he added ruefully.

‘It’s never too late to flirt with the nurses, Kenny, but I’d give our charge nurse Barry a wide birth. He’s a grumpy old bugger.’

‘Yeah, I spotted him on my way in. Perhaps a career in medicine isn’t for me after all.’

Maybe it was just too much emotion caused by lack of sleep, but I couldn’t help but feel a connection with Kenny. Sharing a date of birth is fairly insignificant really, in the big scheme of things, but at four in the morning during our peculiar substance-enhanced encounter, it seemed to hold some meaning.

I imagined us both as small babies, beginning our lives on that same day. We would have started off similarly enough as two equally innocent infant boys, new and full of potential. Our first steps and first words would have coincided and at some point during our childhoods we both decided that we wanted to be doctors. What had ebbed away at Kenny’s potential while mine was being steadfastly encouraged?

After giving Kenny a quick check over, I wandered out to the nurses’ station where Barry the charge nurse was slumped in his chair looking unshakably miserable. I told him about the connection I’d made with my time twin and reflected on why and how our lives had taken such different paths.

‘He’s just a smack head who happens to share your birthday. Stop being a sentimental twat and get some work done. Most importantly, get him discharged before he comes down off whatever he’s taken and starts kicking off.’

As I finished writing up his notes, the prison officer walked Kenny out of the department to his waiting van. ‘My carriage awaits!’ he exclaimed giving me a regal wave with his non-cuffed hand. ‘See ya later, Big Nose Benny.’

‘Nice meeting you, Crackhead Kenny.’

Maggie I

‘It’s my leg, Doctor. It doesn’t really do what I want it to do. It’s as if it’s not really part of me any more.’ Maggie tried to crack a smile but I could see she was really scared.

‘Right, let’s have a look then.’

Maggie was quite right. Her left leg wasn’t doing what it was supposed to be doing. She could sort of move it, but her coordination was shot and she had resorted to walking with a stick.

‘I’m walking like an old lady, but I’m only 56. It just came on over the weekend and it’s getting worse.’

Maggie was clearly looking for some reassurance, but the truth was that I was worried too.

‘We need to get this looked into,’ I said, stating the obvious.

I’d met Maggie a few times, but usually only when she was accompanying her husband for his blood pressure appointments.

‘Any medical problems in the past?’ I asked as I scanned through her notes.

‘No, I’m fit as a flea. Well, I had breast cancer in 2003, but that’s long gone. It can’t be anything to do with that.’

I looked up from my computer screen and she held my gaze. I was trying to find words that might be both reassuring and honest, but before I could even open my mouth, Maggie was crying.

‘The breast cancer’s all gone,’ she blubbed, trying to convince herself more than convince me. ‘They discharged me from the clinic five years ago.’

‘It may well be nothing to do with the breast cancer, but let’s just get some tests done.’