Opinion  

Today's morning surgery was full of chickens. It lasted from 9am till 2pm, when somebody said, 'Seen anybody really sick?' and the answer was, of course, 'No'.

The nurse had seen lacerations, unwanted pregnancies, limps and rashes. I had seen people who wanted to talk about housing, pets, insurance reports, results that consultants were supposed to send them and hadn't, appointments with consultants that they should have attended but didn't, arguments with spouses they didn't like but were stuck with, anxieties about spouses they did like but might not be stuck with, results of blood tests they didn't want but that the quality framework gods insisted upon, funny turns that had gone but was it okay to fly to Namibia tomorrow, tinnitus that they'd had for 20 years but everyone said I was nice so could I help, sprained ankles that were still sprained after three days, bruised skulls that were still bruised after four days, chest infections that weren't, sick notes that didn't need signing off and sex lives that weren't happening.

What they all wanted to know was when, exactly, they would be better, safe, well, cured, healthy, rash free, fit and virile - don't we all? They needed a fortune teller, but she was burned at the stake 800 years ago. So I am the designated wise old woman and patients who have found my particular brand of pedantry and humour useful come back at any sign of a crisis.

It's all part of the rich tapestry of general practice - and besides, the hoop earrings and patchwork shawl rather suit me. But more than that, it reminds me that nobody else could replace us. We may be under siege but we still have our patients who trust and admire us, and if we treat them well they will not waver. You can learn a lot from chickens.

Dr Selby is a GP from Suffolk. Email her at GPcolumnists@haymarket.com