After I started in general practice I worked a one-in-two night rota for 12 years. By the end, I was thoroughly burnt out and had so little empathy left that I could sit through Spencer Tracy's death scene in Captains Courageous without blubbering. I hated being called out of bed and calling me was as pointless as Tantalus's mother shouting, “Come on, son, eat your dinner.” My only remaining virtues were sarcasm and lust, my only emotions apathy and self pity, and I was ready to start slaughtering my staff—only I wasn't sure how to hide their still-quivering bodies from the fuzz.
But when the opportunity of joining an out-of-hours cooperative arose, instead of jumping on it like a health insurance company on the occasional perfectly genuine claim, my feelings were curiously equivocal. Would the patients stand for it? Would there be marching in the streets? Or would they just be quietly hurt and disappointed? He's not the same calibre as old Doc Jackson, they'd be saying—he doesn't really care, he's let us down, after our thinking so much of him and nominating him for that award, The Best Doctor In The World... Ever. There is no joy in Mudville, mighty Casey has struck out.
In the end, despite my reservations, I joined the coop and it has proved a smart move. It saved my sanity, allowing me to spend more time with my family, drink more heavily, and join an extreme fascist organisation that considers global warming to be a good thing. I'm also now so chock-full of empathy that when I say, “Have a nice day,” I sometimes actually mean it.
Yet there remains a small stubborn part of me that misses the old days, like a successful artist yearning for his lonely days in the garret eating muffins soaked in spit. My great sin is nostalgia, and time has softened the memories, so I tend to forget the unrelenting long hours, the trivial calls, the physical exhaustion, the wanting to kick somebody. Instead I miss the intimacy, the being there, the always knowing what was going on, the always feeling in control.
Unfortunately, I've found that my patients are getting along very well without me, thanks very much; any competent doctor is quite acceptable, even if he or she doesn't know their seed, breed, and generation. I guess that, most of all, I miss being needed.