Don't let anyone tell you that doctors don't make house calls. This is the age of the internet. You can use the internet to summon anyone you want to your door.
I'm a doctor. I have reasonably new qualifications and I don't yet have a current practice. What I do have is a job with Doctors Online. We're a Locum service, filling in for doctors who need a break or who don't want to make house calls. We do the house calls for them.
It stands to reason that you can't always get to a doctor during his surgery hours. Being sick isn't something you schedule. Being sick and needing a doctor right now happens to us all, and quite often right now does not mean after a five hour wait in the local emergency department, if you're lucky. These days it means us - Doctors online.
After hours calls are transferred to our business and then they arrange for the nearest available locum to attend. Now you might think that this sort of system would be abused by some people, but it's not. Not after they receive our bill, it's not. We charge a premium for our services.
On the plus side for me is that I have a steady income, I don't have all the overheads of having to run a surgery, and I have steady work, getting more experience all the time. Mind you, you meet some odd types out there.
I received a call one day to visit a house where the wife insisted that her husband was too sick to get out of bed. I trotted around and she was at the front door, waiting for me.
It was a case of holy hell, what have I walked into? The wife was about twenty, long blonde hair, blue eyes, well-endowed in the breast department, a very shapely figure, and legs that just wouldn't quit. I could see quite a bit of those breasts, that figure, and those legs.
What she didn't have was a surfeit of clothes. She was wearing a very filmy peignoir over what appeared to be an even flimsier nightie. Let's just say that the cleavage and split in the sides of her outfit were remarkable. Almost as remarkable as the fact that she could move about without the whole thing falling off.
With admirable self-control I enquired after my patient and she escorted me through the house to the main bedroom where my patient waited. Out cold. Sleeping, I was able to determine, not unconscious. He did wake up a little and was able to describe his symptoms. I sympathised with him, gave him a prescription which was basically a pain killer, and told him to stay in bed and sleep as much as possible. A great cure-all is a decent sleep.
"He has the flu," I told his wife.
"I'm Matilda. Call me Mattie. The flu? Is that all?"
She seemed to be quite cheered up by the fact that he only had the flu.
"No, it's not a case of just the flu, which is generally meant to mean that someone has a nasty cold. He has Influenza. Type A, would be my guess. I don't think it will kill him but he's going to be very sick for the next week to ten days. He's to stay in bed for at least the next week. I will provide a doctors certificate excusing him from work if he requires it. I'll also return in a couple of days to check up on him."
"Oh, I don't think he'll be happy having to pay for two visits," she protested. "Can't he go and see his normal doctor after a couple of days?"
"No. Complete bed rest means complete bed rest. Don't worry about being charged for a second visit. Our charges cover the cost of a follow-up visit if it's required so you won't be paying anything extra."
"OK. I assume that there's nothing to stop him, ah, stop him from, um, I can still share the bed with him?"
"I'd strongly advise against it as I'm sure you don't really want to catch the flu. In fact, I'd recommend a face mask when you attend to him. This will help prevent you getting it. If you were asking about him having marital relations with you then the answer is a definite no. He's in no state for that sort of thing and won't be for a week at the very least."
"A week?" she asked, sounding aghast.
"At least," I said, hard-hearted bastard that I am.
"B-but what about me?" she asked, looking most upset.
"Excuse me?" I wasn't quite sure what her problem was.
"What am I supposed to do for the next week? Barry insists that I have to have sex at least every couple of days. He says if I don't I'll lose my looks. My skin will go all wrinkly and grey. I promised him I would and now you say I'm not allowed to."
"What makes you think you'll go all grey and wrinkly if you don't have sex?" I asked.
"Hormones, of course," she snapped. "You're a doctor. You should know all about that sort of thing. Barry explained it all to me after we got married. Isn't there something you can give him to pep him up a bit? That Viagra stuff I've heard about, for instance."
"Yes, I could," I agreed, "but the exercise would probably kill him. It is only for a week or so, you know."
