As a young child I remember being taken to see a kindly, grey-haired doctor called Dr McGowan to be treated for asthma.
A couple of weeks ago, I came out of my consulting room to call my next patient. Further down the corridor I noticed a woman, who had just left a colleague’s room, standing quietly outside the closed door, her eyes unfocused, her hand on the door frame for support. My first instinct was to approach her and ask if she was all right. Had she been given bad news? I hesitated, realising she needed to take a private moment to collect her thoughts.
So, you don’t want to talk about your weight? I’m not surprised and believe me, I share your discomfort.
“What did that nasty Dr Mack just do to you?”
Dr Miles Mack: Being awake through the night is a frequent cause of misery and weekend lie-ins will not help
I am just back from three days away in the great outdoors.
For the last few days I have been somewhat grumpy.
Writing in these pages recently, Jim Hunter told of the desire of many young people to make their lives in rural communities.
A couple of years ago I spent a day at Raigmore Hospital in Inverness, shadowing a hospital colleague. It had been over 20 years since I had worked there as a senior house officer in the medical unit and I felt it was time to familiarise myself with the services as experienced by all the patients I had referred there over the years.
I have no difficulty finding the house as I have been visiting here with increasing frequency over the last months.
With the best will in the world, the annual conference of the Royal College of General Practitioners can be a dry affair.
I’d forgotten how massive VHS videos are. And how satisfying the whirring sound when you load one into a video player and press fast-forward.
Stepping out of the patient’s house and down the path I could feel tears welling up. By the time I reached the car I was sobbing.
I arrive at a home visit, doctor’s bag in one hand, computer summary printout in the other, and knock.
In a fish tank at Dingwall Heath Centre lives a goldfish named Orange.
In many ways, 2018 has not been the best year.
Last month marked 25 years of me being a partner at Dingwall Medical Group, astonishingly, consulting from the same room throughout all those years.
Erica was on dessert duty at Lunch Club.
“So, are you just a GP?”