Like any other person with a particular set of skills, you will inevitably be asked to provide some free advice to those closest to you. While the guidelines are clear regarding treating our loved ones, the nuances of giving advice are not as clearly addressed.
The line between giving general advice and treating someone IEB Pharma be very blurry, and a series of innocuous questions and hypotheticals can quickly snowball into a full-on consultation. Here’s some advice on how to navigate these conundrums.
“Can you look at this for me?”
I would be lying if I said being asked for my medical opinion isn’t a huge ego boost. The feeling of being needed, of being recognised as an accomplished and competent professional by friends and family is incredibly rewarding. Simple things like translating medical terminology on reports or explaining the rationale behind investigations is high value advice for your non-medical peers and being the “go to” person for any and all queries is very satisfying. In short, it feels nice to be needed.
Your advice-giving capabilities extends beyond the hypothetical. The insight you have into the inner workings of the health system allows you to guide your family members through the complex gauntlet of accessing healthcare. When a cousin of mine was expecting her first child I was hammered with questions about the process of giving birth in the hospital. Among a basic play-by-play of how things would run and explaining the medical marvel that is an epidural, I made sure to impart a crucial piece of advice: If you are even considering an epidural, ask for it as soon as possible, ideally during business hours when the anaesthetist is actually at the hospital. If you wait, it will be too late. She enjoyed an epidural-assisted 12 hour labour thanks to this advice, an outcome she was very happy with.
Your training has also made you useful in a crisis. Any kitchen mishap or scraped knee is no match for your wound-care skills. You may even one day get your “hero moment” in front of all your friends. Mine came a few months ago, on a hike in the mountains with my school friends. Two hours into a six hour hike, one guy developed sudden palpitations (a recurring issue for him), with his Fitbit reading a heart rate of 170. I figured it was probably SVT, so after a pep talk I convinced him to let me try some vagal manoeuvres. I was able to successfully revert him by dunking his head into the freezing cold water of a nearby stream. The palpitations resolved, and the hike was saved.
Never a bad time
The sheen of being “the family doctor” can wear off very quickly. While I’m happy to provide the odd pearl of wisdom, being asked to weigh in on every detail of Aunt Erma’s recent GP consultation about her blood pressure management gets very tiring. In a profession where it can be hard to switch off and compartmentalise work vs home, constantly being asked for advice in your personal life can cause unwanted bleed over of work stress. Sometimes I want to enjoy a catch up with old friends without being asked to look at a suspect mole.
Resident expert
Being asked to give advice that is way above your pay-grade is incredibly awkward and fraught with danger. The layperson’s understanding of medical hierarchy and training is sketchy at best, “no grandma, I’m not a specialist yet. I only graduated a few years ago,” and while a junior can provide general explanations and context, being asked to give a “second-opinion” on a management plan formulated by a specialist puts you in a very tense position. Your family respects and values your opinion, but they may not understand that the scope of your experience and expertise is limited.