So I am ‘on the sick’ again, signed off for a couple of weeks by my nice GP. Despite having served the NHS blamelessly for 36 years with hardly a day off, my thirty seventh is turning into a bit of a nightmare. I am sure my colleagues are beginning to roll their eyes and mutter well-meaning comments along the lines of: “Poor chap, surely enough is enough, and it is time…” Well, you get the drift.
My complaint this time is really rather embarrassing (no don’t worry, not that); in fact I had never actually heard of it until my GP told me. I have had, he informed me, an episode of micturition syncope. Or to put it another way I got up in the middle of the night for a pee and promptly fell over, unfortunately fracturing about 37 ribs on the way down (well that’s what it feels like). So I am now propped up in an armchair (I can’t lie down) with a ‘hottie’ against my chest, a laptop on my lap (obviously), being fed mugs of warm soup by the daughter, while trying to stop the wretched cats jumping on the keyboard every five minutes.
The more I think about it the more the diagnosis sounds like something out of Strictly rather than something medical. Brucie announces: “And now dancing the Micturition Syncope, please welcome Samson and Delilah”. The couple emerge to wild applause, clad in what appears to be scanty nightwear, and perform an exotic routine which seems mainly to consist of falling over. (Sorry for this hallucinogenic flight of fantasy but these buprenorphine dermal patches have interesting side effects).
However meditating on this has brought to mind a case which I have been following closely for the last year or so. For the sake of confidentiality I will call him (or her) Charlie. He worked for a very small but worthy company, a charity as it happens. Over a year ago he developed a mild chronic condition requiring minor surgery (day case). Normally a sufferer would have a week or two off work at most. Charlie took off a full seven months; three on full pay, three on half pay and a final month on statutory sick pay. On seven months plus one day (when the cash finally ran out) he returned stating that he had never felt better.
I will spare you the details, but he subsequently worked only nine half days (on a phased return basis) and on the tenth phoned in sick. Sure enough the doctor’s sick note duly appeared stating the reason for absence to be - yes, you’ve guessed it - work-related stress.
Predictably the charity shortly received a solicitor’s letter claiming £8,500 on behalf of Charlie in compensation for the “bullying and harassment” he suffered during his brief re-appearance. Part of the settlement was to include a “positive” (i.e. dishonest) reference. Many larger organisations, including the NHS, will simply pay up to get rid of such people, but to its credit this charity refused. The matter still rumbles on, but of course Charlie is now on sickness benefits, being paid to sit on his bum by you and me.
The dishonesty and sheer wickedness of much human nature never surprises me. However what has disturbed me has been the regular stream of sick notes provided monthly by Charlie’s GP. These covered initially his original complaint, moved on to “work related stress” but subsequently morphed into “stress related to work place harassment”, a completely untrue statement for which the GP had no evidence whatsoever, other than Charlie’s sob stories.
I hate being off work, if for no better reason than I understand the pressure it puts on all my colleagues who have to do my job on top of their own. I also accept that there are many who cannot work for genuine reasons. But based on Charlie’s manipulations I am equally convinced that there are a very large number who will screw the system for whatever they can get and for as long as they can get away with it. This is something the politicians dare not say for fear of the tabloid press, but which is nevertheless true. But what I don’t understand is why the GPs seem to be complicit in this. Perhaps I am being unfair, I am sure someone will be able to tell me.
Writing this has made me very cross indeed and my ribs hurt even more. I think I had better go and stick on another dermal patch.
