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Someone else posted this over in my other home, the anesthesia forum. Seemed relevant here too. All of medicine seems broken to some degree.
The astounding thing is how difficult it is to find people to do things, of any sort, quickly and accurately, with minimal downtime, the further down you go in the pay scale. Being surrounded by physicians takes you out of the reality that most people spend like 50% of their day just screwing around at work, doing nothing productive in particular.ancillary staff to take away some of the administrative load
The astounding thing is how difficult it is to find people to do things, of any sort, quickly and accurately, with minimal downtime, the further down you go in the pay scale. Being surrounded by physicians takes you out of the reality that most people spend like 50% of their day just screwing around at work, doing nothing productive in particular.
No I mean literally the pay range for "ancillary staff" as a whole, not "low paid ancillary staff."Is it really that astounding? If you can't find anyone reliable at a certain pay rate, offer higher pay.
I really like what @Cooperd0g wrote about happiness and balancing expectations and reality. For a young doctor coming into Miltary Medicine, this is vital. Expectations need to be calibrated not only for being a physician, but as an Officer working in a military structure, and calibrating our family values as well. This is why actively seeking out mentors is so key.Happiness (or sadness) is the difference between Expectations and Reality.
During locum work I see 15-20 patients and drive 2 hours daily. I am much more burned out at end of the day after seeing mere 8 patients in the Army hospital dealing with greater amount of military and patient admins with much less ancillary support. I am not even allowed to use printer in my room.
Change the system...I love those words. I doubt the system would significantly change for the military doctors. Those who end up staying in the military just embrace the system
I recommend embrace it whether or not you want to stay in or get out.
The Vogon began to read --- a fetid little passage of his own devising.
``Oh frettled gruntbuggly ...'' he began. Spasms wracked Ford's body --- this was worse than ever he'd been prepared for.
``... thy micturations are to me | As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.''
``Aaaaaaarggggghhhhhh!'' went Ford Prefect, wrenching his head back as lumps of pain thumped through it. He could dimly see beside him Arthur lolling and rolling in his seat. He clenched his teeth.
``Groop I implore thee,'' continued the merciless Vogon, ``my foonting turlingdromes.''
His voice was rising to a horrible pitch of impassioned stridency. ``And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,| Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!''
``Nnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyuuuuuuurrrrrrrggggggghhhhh!'' cried Ford Prefect and threw one final spasm as the electronic enhancement of the last line caught him full blast across the temples. He went limp.
Arthur lolled.
``Now Earthlings ...'' whirred the Vogon (he didn't know that Ford Prefect was in fact from a small planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, and wouldn't have cared if he had) ``I present you with a simple choice! Either die in the vacuum of space, or ...'' he paused for melodramatic effect, ``tell me how good you thought my poem was!''
He threw himself backwards into a huge leathery bat-shaped seat and watched them. He did the smile again.
Ford was rasping for breath. He rolled his dusty tongue round his parched mouth and moaned.
Arthur said brightly: ``Actually I quite liked it.''
Ford turned and gaped. Here was an approach that had quite simply not occurred to him.