Take my advice…

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Sunday
Church luncheon today. Food was fantastic. They may not smoke or drink but they certainly know how to put the food away. Had to be really quick to get seconds on the chocolate log. Tried to avoid looking at Adele who was eating carrot sticks and celery as usual. She brings her own food so she won’t be tempted to eat anything nice.
Knew I was in trouble when I got served up rabbit food and a postage stamp of steak for dinner. Had to make a surreptitious trip to my emergency giant jaffa supply to keep my strength up.

Monday
Gretchen on about my weight today as well. I privately believe that dieting makes you fat and want nothing to do with it.
Mr Bean is in today, he’s 45, runs marathons, and has folds of unsupported flesh that hang around his face and neck like a bloodhound. He looks miserable and worried about his Cholesterol of 7.2. I tell him to avoid eggs, butter, cheese, and meat with fat.
If I did that I’d die.
My cholesterol is only 5.2. I send a prayer of thanksgiving to my parents and think about the scotch eggs I had for lunch. Somewhere I read that a glass of wine a day is just as good as running a marathon. Sounds good to me.

Tuesday
Mr Johnston came in today. Wheezing as usual. I looked at the notes
“Warned again about the evils of smoking” my handwriting winks from the chart.
“Er… Dr Foote,” he hesitates apologetically, “That new inhaler doesn’t seem to be doing much good.”
Nothing works of course when you’ve got end stage emphysema.
“Well what about the fags?” I counter. “Are you still smoking?”
I can smell it on him, can sniff out the lie before its even conceived
“Ah.. er… Just one or two Doc. You know how it is. A man’s only pleasure.”
Once I did know how it was… I don’t think of that. My evangelical zeal takes over….
“How can you expect to get better if you don’t take responsibility for your own health.”
“Do you know that smoking related illness cost this country billions a year.”
I speak loudly to make sure my point is understood.
“You’re right Doc, I’ll give them away.” He shuffles out looking suitably chastened.
I type again in the notes “Advised yet again to stop smoking.”
Feel pleased that I’ve done my bit.
Funny how they never listen ….

Wednesday
Gretchen serves me morning tea.
“Is something wrong?” I say startled by this unprecedented event.
The coffee is made with trim milk and no sugar. No wonder she’s bitter.
Adele has made me lunch. Carrot, celery, apple, and a single wholemeal bread sandwich.
Why don’t they let me make my own decisions.
I feel angry for the rest of the day.
Despite this I practice good preventative medicine.
Discover three smokers and a heavy drinker. Advise them all to repent or die.
Stop to get some giant jaffas on the way home.
For emergencies only…

Thursday
Late this morning. Fought with Adele about breakfast. Couldn’t believe she hadn’t bought any bread and cheese yesterday. Had to eat fruit and yogurt. Just as well I had the foresight to lay in some extra supplies.
Gretchen is really smouldering. The first salvo is fired as I walk through the door.
“Dr Foote” she snaps “Some of your patients have complained to me about your attitude. How can you justify telling them how to live their lives when you’re too lazy to loose weight yourself.”
I retreat to the safety of my room. I always handle conflict by withdrawal. Especially with Gretchen.
Wonder what I’ve done wrong. It’s my job to give advice.
Isn’t it?

Friday
Mr Thompson is my first patient. Haven’t seen him for a while.
“Dr Foote” he says, “How much is too much to drink,” testing the water.
After yesterday’s criticism I counter cautiously. “Are you worried about your drinking?”
“Yeah Doc, as a matter of fact I am. Haven’t been remembering things too well lately. Costs a packet too.”
“So you think you’re drinking too much?”
“Yeah, I reckon I am. Think it”s about time I did something about it.”
Was so surprised I forgot to tell him what to do. “What did you have in mind?” I ask.
“Well.” he says looking embarrassed and tentative “I thought I might check out the local AA. Can you give me their address.”
Felt wonderful for the rest of the day. Even smiled at Gretchen.

Saturday
Made myself fruit and yogurt for breakfast. Adele asked if I was feeling alright. Spent the day playing hockey and cricket with the kids. My turn to cook. Made a lovely salad to go with some chicken breasts. I enjoy feeling fit. Must make a habit of it.
Adele really friendly tonight

Sleep dreams

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Sunday
Attended a sleep workshop yesterday. Seems like a new dimension has been added to my medical skills. Dyssomnias, parasomnias; a wonderful range of impressive onomatopoeic and erudite terms. The next patient to say “I can’t sleep Dr Foote.” is going to get a real surprise.
Went to church with Adele and the kids. Kept a close watch on the congregation during the sermon. Great opportunity for applying new knowledge. Noticed at least 8 or 10 with a very short sleep latency.
Never waste an opportunity.
“Mr J, I couldn’t help but notice you nodding off during the sermon. Is this a common problem?”
“Only when I’ve just come off night shift.”

Monday
Desperately tired this morning. A victim of transient situational insomnia. Disturbed night when I tried to monitor Adele’s sleep. Checked for snoring, apneic spells, and attempted to estimate the amount of REM sleep.
“Footie turn out the light.”
“Sorry Adele just trying to see if your eyeballs were moving.”
Adele obligingly rolled her eyes in an eloquent “You’re bizarre” statement and went back to sleep. Just about to do the same when I noticed she had stopped breathing. An apnea. Started to count. Lost my nerve at twenty and shook her awake. “Adele! Wake Up. Breathe.”
“What’s that Footie… Go to sleep.”
Felt obliged to stay awake just in case she had another apneic spell. She didn’t.
“Dr Foote you look really seedy this morning. You should make more effort to get some rest over the weekend.”
Gretchen always makes my Mondays.
“Just a touch of TSI. Did a bit of study last night,” I said modestly.
“That’s interesting. I didn’t realise there was a new JD Robb novel out.”

Tuesday
Adele had another prolonged apneic spell. Woke her after 40 seconds.
“Relax Footie.” she giggled, “I’m just practicing in case I take up snorkeling. Managed twice as long as last night.”
Didn’t sleep much all night. All the black coffee I suppose.
Gretchen not very sympathetic when I nodded off to sleep during the video lunch.
“Stop malingering Dr Foote.” Said Gretchen in her most scathing tone. “You know subjective reporting of sleep disruption is exaggerated relative to objective measurement.”
Wondered if temporary insanity due to sleep deprivation would be an adequate defense in a murder trial.

Wednesday
“I can’t sleep Dr Foote.”
At last! Gave a small sigh of satisfaction and launched into the questions.
“How long does it take to get off to sleep at night’s?”
“Only a few minutes but….”
“Do you fall asleep during the day…”
“Only after Sunday lunch Dr Foote, but it’s not me who’s got the problem.”
“But I thought you couldn’t sleep?”
“That’s right. It seems like months since I had a really good sleep.”
Tried not to sound exasperated. “I’m sorry Mr K. Let me just summarize what I think I heard you say. You can’t sleep, but it’s not a problem. So why did you come to see me?”
“I wondered if you could give me something for my wife?”
“Can’t she sleep either?”
“No she sleeps just fine. But as soon as she drops off she kicks all the bedclothes off and I get cold.”
Disappointedly suggested he wear warmer pajamas when, with a flash of inspiration, the words ‘periodic limb movement disorder’ flashed into my mind.
Another diagnostic coup. Pity that treatment is so ineffective. Still if I let that get me down I’d have given up medicine long ago.

Thursday
Awakened from a somnolent afternoon surgery by a crash outside my window. One of my patients had parked a little close to my old Holden.
“I must have nodded off at the wheel Doctor.”
“Do you fall asleep often?” I asked after shaking him awake again.
“Only when I’m sitting down.”
Briefly explored the possibility of narcolepsy, but had to be content with common garden OSA.
Talked briefly with the sleep specialist.
“I’ve got this patient who might have narcolepsy. Could you do a sleep study on him?….. that’s right, vivid dreams, sudden episodic weakness…. Next week?… That’s great.”
Pity that he’ll write me off as a moron, but the waiting time for OSA is 6 months.

Friday
“And while you’re writing the script Dr Foote, can you give me some more sleeping pills?”
Why do people always leave these requests until the end of the consultation. Risked Gretchen’s ire by taking additional time to warn about the evils of sleeping pills and promote good sleep hygiene.
“I’m sure your advice is very good Dr Foote, but at my age I think it would be easier just to take a little pill.”
Compromised and felt rotten.
“You’re running late Dr Foote.” snapped Gretchen. “Can’t you be more considerate. ”

Saturday
Woke feeling totally refreshed. Adele says sex is the perfect cure for insomnia and I should prescribe it instead of pills. Not sure if that’s a compliment but it’s certainly more appealing than a glass of warm milk.

The primary caregiver…

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Sunday
Home alone. Well not exactly alone, just me , three kids, 2 cats, a rabbit, several lizards, six goldfish, two rats and a cage full of mice. Of course I can manage perfectly well. After all the kids are all at school and Adele deserves a holiday. Mind you, I was thinking more of an afternoon at the art gallery, not a week in New York.
“Are you sure you can cope Footie?” Just before the plane leaves is a fine time to doubt my abilities.
“No problem. Have a great time.” Not too good a time of course.
House seems awfully quiet now the kids are asleep. Bed’s a bit cold too. Still its only a week.

Monday
Early start. Spent most of the night wondering what Adele was doing in the big apple.. Made the kid’s lunches. Only takes 5 minutes to stuff a few chips into a bread roll. Kids these days aren’t into butter or fancy stuff. Breakfast was a bit tedious. Marie kept asking when Adele was going to be back and said I made her drinking chocolate with the wrong sort of milk. Explained about the starving children in Somalia but she didn’t make the connection.
Caught myself shouting “Shut up and eat or go without.” Not exactly Dr Spock but seemed to work.
Finally got the kids out the door, just managed to get the washing hung out before work.
“Dr Foote you’re ten minutes late.” I stop and adjust my watch. ‘Gretchen Mean Time’ I call it.
It’s a relief to get back to the familiar. Still it will be a great bonding experience.

Tuesday
Developed a new strategy for getting the kids out of bed promptly. Shouted down the hall that the mice had babies. Worked a treat! Three kids, wide awake and bolting into the family room. Quite pleased with myself until I heard the sobs. Their favourite mouse had died during the night. It took a grovelling apology, three Mars bars, a lavish funeral procession and the promise of fish ‘n chips to redeem the morning. Barely time to make chip rolls before I escaped to work.
“I think all men should give their wives a break now and then,” I explain piously to Phil over lunch.
“I can see why she needs it,” I hear Gretchen muttering.
Greasies at the park for dinner. Saves on the dishes and the kids love them. Stopped at the DVD shop on the way home. A minor domestic when I suggest Happy Feet, Jason was hanging out for ‘Reacher’, Marie and Helen thought ‘Breaking Dawn’ would be better.
Spent some time explaining about ‘G’ certificates and looking for Walt Disney films.

Wednesday
Just about got this parenting business sussed. Worked out a roster and got the kids sharing the housework. Tried to ignore Helen muttering about a sore stomach. Denial only partially successful as the school called halfway through the morning surgery to say she was sick. Suggested I should take her to see a Doctor.
After much grovelling Gretchen agreed to get her while I finished the surgery. Didn’t seem much wrong to me, Especially when she went off giggling and laughing with Gretchen during the lunch break.
Didn’t quite know what to say when Gretchen took me aside later and talked to me about periods and panti shields. Not my little girl surely. She’s only twelve…. Adele where are you?

Thursday
Tried to talk to Helen today, usually leave this sort of stuff to Adele.
“Helen, we need to have a talk”
“Sure Dad, what’s on your mind?”
“Ah… Well… Um… I thought we should talk about… You know about boys and things….”
“Sure, What do you want to know?”
What I want to know is what to say next. Gave up.
“Chip rolls OK for lunch again?”
Felt absurdly grateful to Gretchen. Wondered if I should buy her some flowers until I got an invoice itemizing personal supplies, puberty education, and travel expenses. Reassuring to have something which doesn’t change.

Friday
No shirts. Had to bribe Helen to do some ironing. No-one wanted chip rolls, can’t understand why. Forked over money for pies. Then they wanted their pocket-money, totally cleaned me out, not even enough left for giant jaffas. Raining so had to drop the kids at school. Late for the +surgery.
Heard Gretchen apologising to the waiting room as I came in
“You’ll have to excuse Dr Foote, He’s not the same since his wife went away.”

Saturday
Frantic morning cleaning, then off to the airport to meet Adele. Tried to look nonchalant and relaxed.
“Mummy we had chip rolls for breakfast every day.”
“We watched videos every night.”
“Mummy, I’ve got my first period.”
“Hard luck Footie,” she gave me a consolation squeeze. “So have I.”

Domestic responsibilities…

Sunday
Family meeting this evening. Top on the agenda is making the kids take a larger share in domestic responsibilities.
Spent a difficult hour in negotiating job descriptions. Jason’s insistence that the government’s youth wage rates applied to him and his sisters was a tremendous sticking point. Additional pocket-money will cost me $5000 a year.
At the end of the meeting I landed the outside tidy up, feeding the cats and cooking dinner twice a week.

Monday
Cruising down the motorway on my way to an early start when the mobile rang.
“Dr Foote speaking.”
“Hey Dad,” Jason accused. “You forgot to feed the cats.”
“Oh.” Is this why I have a cell phone? “Well just give them something and I’ll get onto it tonight.”
“Sorry Dad but it’s your job now. You’ll have to come back and do it. What you said last night about taking responsibility and playing your part in making the household run was spot on.”
Negotiating while driving in rush hour traffic certainly puts you at a disadvantage. In the end he held out for two giant jaffas and a half hour session bowling at the nets.

Tuesday
Fed the cats.
“Dr Foote I’m tired all the time.”
If I had a giant jaffa for every time I’ve heard that opening statement. “How many children do you have?”
As a rule of thumb I’d say that children are the cause of about 50% of chronic fatigue syndrome.
“Only three but they never do anything around the house. And my husband just flops in front of the Telly when he comes home from work.”
Told her about our latest strategy to make life bearable. Basked in her incredulous gaze when I told her I shared the cooking with Adele and the kids. I suppose I am an exceptional emancipated male.
“Perhaps you could get something like that started now your children are a that bit older.”

Wednesday
Feeling slightly miffed. Had to spend my free afternoon shopping and planning the evening meal. Tried the helpless male strategy.
“Adele where do you keep the potatoes?”
“Adele, do you know where I might find the potato peeler.”
“How long do you cook potatoes for?”
“What time will tea be Footie?” Over the years Adele has developed her own defence.
“About 6:30.”
“Well I’ll shoot through to the park for a run. Keep an eye on the kids.”
Sausages, potatoes, and peas.
“No you can’t have peanut butter sandwiches instead Marie. Learn to eat what’s put in front of you.”
How did I ever breed a daughter who doesn’t like meat. It’s unnatural.

Thursday
“Cooked dinner last night,” I mentioned casually to Gretchen. “Whipped up a little exotic something for the family.”
“I’m very impressed Dr Foote. When I saw Adele in the park last night it sounded as if the potatoes would defeat you. I’d give you an A for perseverance. Is everyone well this morning?”
Helen’s turn to cook tonight. Oven baked potato chips drowning in tomato sauce is on the menu again. Suits me fine but Adele complained of incipient scurvy. Didn’t appreciate being told there was plenty of vitamin C in potato skins.

Friday
“Where’s my shirts?”
“Probably in the ironing Footie. Why don’t you ask Marie, she’s on ironing this week.”
“Sorry Dad, but I only have to do an hour a week and your stuff’s at the bottom of the basket.”
“Adele do you think you might …”
“Sorry no time Footie, choosing some fabric with a client this morning. The iron’s in the linen cupboard.”
Of course I’m not helpless. When I was flatting I did that sort of thing all the time. At least until I learned about hanging shirts out to dry on their hangers.
“Dr Foote, What happened to your shirt?” Gretchen was so curious about the burn marks that she forgot to chastise me for being late.
“Watch the news tonight.”
Angry patient this afternoon.
“What’s with all this nonsense you’ve been telling my wife Doctor.”
“Sorry, I’m not quite with you.”
“She came to she you on Tuesday. She’s always down at this time of the month. But she came home with all this nonsense about how if I wanted her to be awake enough for sex I had to do some housework or cooking.”
“Women appreciate a little help now and again. Makes them feel loved. I bet you’re a pretty capable cook too.”
“Well I suppose I was a pretty mean cook, even if I say so myself. Perhaps I should give it a try.”
Jason cooked tonight. Even baked potato chips need some practice.

Saturday
Adele bought me breakfast in bed. “I’m really pleased we’re sharing the home responsibilities more Footie. It was a great idea of yours, I’ve got heaps more energy. Pity you were so sound asleep when I woke up this morning,” she teased. “So I went for a run instead.”
Fed the cats.

No boundaries…. but not in a good way

Sunday
Went to church with the family this morning. All spiritual thoughts and feelings evaporated when I found myself sitting behind a pilonidal sinus. During the worship I surreptitiously looked around and saw three of my depressed patients, beatific smiles on their faces warbling to the rafters. Seemed unreal. After the service ran a gauntlet of patients who thought I was interested in their latest symptoms and side effects. I wasn’t.
Remembered idealistic discussions about how we should live in the same area as our patients. All that wonderful mush about identifying and empathizing with patients. The instigator must have been a saint or an academic.
Jason suggested I wear a tee-shirt with ‘Doctor’ on one side and ‘$100’ on the other.
“At least you could make some money out of it.”
Might give it a try.

Monday
“Saw you at church yesterday Dr Foote. Thought I might have a yarn but someone else had already bailed you up. What did you think of the sermon?”
Mr K is a retired farmer who loves to talk. Before I knew it I was side-tracked into a discussion on the theology of healing and my morning schedule was shot.
Gretchen was frothing at the mouth by the time I reappeared for my next patient.
“Some people don’t seem to know if they’re at church or the surgery.” she grumbled when I explained.
Me or Mr K?
Ended up with no time to do the correspondence so stayed late…. again.
“But Footie, Tonight we were going to see Les Mis.”
“I’m sorry Adele. It’s got to be done.”
“Well if you can’t organise your work more efficiently I’ll go with someone else”

Tuesday
In bed last night, Adele said I have problems setting boundaries and that my need to be needed is pathological.
Not quite sure what she means, but it doesn’t sound very complimentary.
I call it conscientious general practice.
But the call at 2 am had me wondering if she had a point.
“Dr Foote, I’m ringing because the contraceptive pill you gave me looks different. Have they changed the pill packet?”
Who knows? Mentally tossed a coin.
“Yes, that’s very observant of you to spot something like that at this hour of night.”
“Well, actually I noticed it a few days ago, but I was suddenly worried that it might not be the right one.”

Wednesday
Exhausted at breakfast, but phone calls every few minutes jogged me back to consciousness. Why do they ring me – I’m not even on call. Can’t they wait until I get to work. Strange that I don’t have the same problem at the surgery. Asked Gretchen about it when I arrived.
“Well if I let you talk to everyone who called you’d never get finished.”
Counted to ten before I replied. “What do you say to them?”
“I ask if I can help or would they prefer to leave a detailed message and have you call back at the end of the session. Mostly you wouldn’t know the answers to anyway.
“These doctors think they’re indispensable.” she muttered just loud enough for me and the waiting room to hear as before I called the next patient.
Sent Mr T to hospital with his usual combination of CORD and heart failure. Still haven’t received a discharge letter from his last admission.
Told him to let me know how things go. No one else will.

Thursday
Just started dinner when the phone went.
“For you, Footie,” said Adele “I’ll put your dinner in the oven.”
“Hello Dr Foote,” said Mr T. “Just calling to let you know what’s happened. The doctors say my heart’s not pumping properly… ”
Food never tastes quite the same after 20 minutes drying in an oven, particularly when flavored with Adele’s “It’s your own fault” sauce.

Friday
“I’m most impressed Footie.”
“What’s that?” Half asleep still.
“Last night. The way you handled that phone call.”
“Phone call?”
“Must have been one of your patients. No one else rings at that hour. You said ‘I’m too tired now, you’re s**** out of luck.’ Not quite the phrasing I would have chosen, but seemed to work.”
No recollection of this at all. Wondered if she was having me on.
“Who were you shouting at on the phone in the night, Dad? You woke me up.” asked Jason with his mouth full of cereal.
Worried about it all day.
Mr T called just on dinner time.
Adele says one more time and I’ll be making my own.

Saturday
At breakfast Adele asked if I was going to consult at home or would the patients go up to the surgery.
“It’s Saturday.”
“Tell your patients that when they call.”
Looked longingly at my newspaper as the phone rang. Did my imitation of an answer phone.
“You have reached the residence of Dr Foote. If you have a medical problem please contact the surgery for details of our after hours service, otherwise leave a message after…”