
Those GPs who wake up in the morning listening to the Today programme on Radio 4 are used to the medical stories that always start, or contain, some criticism of GPs. We don’t know this, we don’t know that, we need more training, we are overpaid, we are lazy and so on. It is deeply depressing and saps morale.
The medical story this morning was different. It was precise and to the point. British junior hospital doctors are incompetent, inexperienced, negligent fools who are allowing patients to die of acute renal failure, an illness that is eminently treatable if only it is promptly diagnosed.
“It can be diagnosed at the bedside with a simple blood test”
suggested the egregious twat of an academic who was clearly enjoying his two minutes of perceived fame on the programme. Not famous enough for his interview to be preserved on “Listen again”.
Could I even luxuriate for a second in a little schadenfreude? Sadly not. This nasty, unrepresentative bit of “journalism” made me just as angry as the more usual knocking copy about GPs. As is increasingly typical of the Today programme, the story was unbalanced. No representative of the junior doctors was asked to put their side of the story.
What is the truth?
Are patients dying unnecessarily in hospital because investigations that should have been done have not been done. Emphatically, yes. And it gets worse. The doctors are now under so much pressure to get patients out of hospital as soon as possible that the patients sometimes do not have time to die in hospital. They die in the nursing home to which they have been unceremoniously returned. Either the tests have not been done, or they have been done, but the patient has been sent home before someone has met up with the results.
It is not the fault of the junior doctors. It is the fault of new working conditions, of the EWTD, and of the
lack of doctors. This did not happen twenty years ago. Patients think that the most important doctor on the hospital team is the consultant. That may be the case now, but it was not the case in the past. The most important doctor on the team used to be the houseman. Yes, he was the most inexperienced doctor, but he was also the co-ordinador, the progess chaser, and above all the continuity expert. He worked on what was called a “firm”. The firm was headed by a consultant. There would be a middle grade doctor on the firm as well (maybe two in a teaching hospital) and the houseman. When the “firm” was on “take-in” all the patients who were admitted were clerked in by the houseman. He
personally saw them, took a history, examined them, ordered the first level of investigations and then, depending on his experience, initiated the treatment. At the end of a “take in” day, the houseman would go round with his registrar who would check what the houseman had done, check the results of investigations, and make suggestions about what else needed to be done. The houseman followed the patient through the whole of his admission, wrote the discharge summary and arranged for the patient to be seen in outpatients if follow-up was necessary.
The houseman kept a note pad in his pocket with a list of all the firm’s patients, with their location, their results and their outstanding problems. When the consultant did his rounds, the houseman led the consultant from patient to patient, wherever they were in the hospital (what do you mean, Crippen, we have a patient on the eye ward?), presented the patient, the problems, and the results of the tests. The consultant would then “fine tune” the mangement. If, as a medical houseman, I had said to the Renal Consultant for whom I worked that I did not know what a patient's sodium, potassium and creatinine (basic tests for acute renal failure) were, I would have been dead.
Nowadays, there is no firm. Housemen, or F1s as they are called, work for a “unit” or a “team” but not for a named consultant. Mr Jones is admitted to the “medical assessment unit” with sharp, non-cardiac chest pains. The on-duty F1 (F1i) examines Mr Jones and sends him off for a CXR. F1i now goes off duty and F1ii comes on. He does not know the patient has had a CXR. He orders some blood tests. Mr Jones is in too much pain to go home (administrator angry already) and so F1ii sends him to Maple Ward. Sadly, when the porters get there, Maple Ward is full, so Mr Jones is diverted to Birch Ward. Neither F1i nor F1ii know where Mr Jones is, and the MAU consultant was tied up with a cardiac arrest and did not see Mr Jones himself. Yes, all the information is on a computer somewhere, but who is going to look? Who is now responsible for Mr Jones? F1iii is one of the junior doctors on Birch Ward and is puzzled about Mr Jones' appearance. He checks the computer and notices that Mr Jones cholesterol is 6.7 and so he writes him up for some simvastatin. Two days later Mr Jones gets muscle pains which F1iv assumes is a side effect of the simvastatin and so he stops it. The CXR comes back and an SpR sees that it shows a little basal shadowing, so suggests some amoxicillin. Mr Jones gets a lot better over the next two days, and it is Friday afternoon and another SpR is pressurised by the nurses to send Mr Jones home. Finally, ten days later, a new F1, F1v, sends a computerised summary to the GP. He never met Mr Jones, so he downloads all the tests that have been done from the computer and prints them out. He notices that the patient has a raised MCV.
No follow up is offered to the patient. F1v finishes the discharge summary by saying “GP to monitor cholesterol, check for causes of raised MCV and arrange a follow up CXR”
Utter chaos. There is not a single doctor in the hospital who can account for Mr Jones' admission. It is easy to shout at the F1s. Occasionally, I pick up the phone and track down some the unfortunate F1 whose name is on a discharge summary and ask him to explain what has happened to my patient. He does not know. He has never met the patient. "I only did the discharge summary from the computer." You cannot nowadays even ask which consultant the patient was under. He was not under "a consultant." He was under the “medical team.”
It’s chaos. But it is not the juniors’ fault. It is the system. Junior hospital doctors are as bright as they ever were. We have destroyed their working environment. We are doing to them what Margaret Thatcher did to her colleagues:
It is rather like sending your opening batsmen to the crease only for them to find, the moment the first balls are bowled, that their bats have been broken before the game by the team captain.
Labels: EWTD, impossible job, incompetence, junior hospital doctors, renal failure, the blame game