Being a doctor is, apparently, a noble, fulfilling, humanitarian, interesting profession. Many dream of joining the medical fraternity – a selected group of modern angels, superheroes, gods of life and death, who dart silently along hospital corridors in their white coats, like clouds in the sky during windy weather. Swinging stethoscopes around necks, batteries of pens in pockets, name tags pinned to chests plus other tools of trade attached here and there (torches, tourniquets, tape meters, handbooks, smartphones, chocolate bars, fizzy drinks) add to the mystery of those creatures and boost public respect.
Surely, all doctors think about is the next case: diagnosis, optimal prescription, maybe operation. Undoubtedly, their tense faces signify concern about patients, worry about the initiated therapies’ outcomes, care about sick, injured or otherwise troubled (labouring mothers; snoring husbands; climacteric wives; victims of nature who cry for more pouty lips etc.). Certainly, constant restlessness of medics affirms sufferers – their saviours rush to assist instantaneously. Right?
Wrong… Read more