We are writing this letter because we feel that our leaders do not have an accurate impression of what it actually takes to become a physician today–particularly, the financial, intellectual, social, mental, and physical demands of the profession.
This is an opinion that is shared among many colleagues. Let's discuss what it took to mold, educate and train a young Trinidadian from modest roots to become an outstanding surgeon who is capable of taking care of any medical issue that may plague your own family, friends or colleagues. After growing up in a poor village in the countryside, George was determined to make a better life for himself, demonstrating at an early age the propensity to work hard. After high school he volunteered as an elementary school teacher in Trinidad, an experience he followed with work as a customs clerk and an insurance underwriter in order to pay for his college education.
His mother and father had an estranged relationship and he wanted to make sure she had a better life. He didn't really know his father and was the only child. George considered becoming a doctor, fashioning himself after the village doctor that would sound his heart and check his pressure. At age 17, George was fortunate to have begun medical school and helped to pay his way through UWI by working in the village tying goats and feeding cows, and by doing summer jobs in the city. He graduated at age 24 from UWI and went on to do two years of internship. At 26 he was able to call himself a doctor and feel comfortable–but he soon realised he was not a specialist, he was at the bottom of the food chain in medicine. He was a general practitioner. With this, George set out on a plan to become a great surgeon and after saving for two years, he quit his job, said goodbye to his mother, and went to England to specialise–all the while sacrificing precious time with his ageing mother and avoiding any circumstances that could lead to him having a family of his own. Inevitably, at 36 years old, George was finally a surgeon. He gave up his London bus pass and returned home to Trinidad. Within the year, George met his old friends, engineers and businessmen, movers and shakers. All well established in society, at ease with real estate and comfort. They would invite him to lime and he couldn't attend due to being on call or on duty and saving lives. George was renting in the city now, close to work. Within a year of returning home, his mother passed away. Apparently she had been ill of the liver for some time and didn't want to tell him for fear she may interrupt his studies.
George buried his mother and realised he had no life. All he had was surgery and his career, and he too, had become estranged to his friends and family. No sleep, no rest for the wicked his mother would say. No wife, no child, no money in the bank. Nothing had changed much–except him. He was cold and upset with the world, tired of sweating on hot dirty wards, fed up of stretching his heart and soul out to treat people as best he could with the little he had. He was sick of humid clinics and poor working conditions. He couldn't buy a decent car; he couldn't afford a house. He was disgusted with the special treatment some would receive because of who they knew. He could not tolerate the insurance agents, the bankers, people on the street who were after him because apparently they think doctors have money, somewhere! He couldn't tolerate the overwhelming administrative tasks, medicolegal liability, rough calls, long theatre days, missed birthday parties and bachelor limes.
George took his own life at the age of 43–no one attended his funeral. If anyone can help the plight of doctors, and the health of the T&T, please do.
Independent Medical
Practitioners
Via email