Tired surgeon. An open letter to doctor from Yakutia about our medicine Bashny.Net

The editors of the Site could not pass up this "cry of the soul". We need to understand the conditions in which people work, saving our lives, and pay tribute to their heroism. However, no heroism can not be infinite and all patience ends. A word to the author.





I can no longer work in those conditions in which delivered my colleagues.

I can't support their children on the money that pays me our government. And to extort "gratitude" from a patient I education does not allow.

I can't smile in response to the rudeness of drunken rednecks. I can't ignore the phrase "doctor, you must," "you are", "and if not, then I will write the complaint".

I'm tired of the helplessness of the situation, when any deadbeat can roll me "wagon", from which I have to unsubscribe, wasting precious time.

I'm tired of coming to work at seven in the morning and go "how you finish", but otherwise I won't have time to deal with paper cases.

I can't do is treat patients constantly think about "fullness Mesa" about "the proper execution of medical documentation" of "assign fewer tests and examinations," "the last month, the office worked at a loss of minus eight million", about "the main thing is to fill out a medical history" of "prescribe less expensive drugs."

I can't help it!

I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to treat people, in exchange for a decent salary. Failed. Insurance medicine and optimization turned me from a surgeon at the clerk with the skills of an accountant. In Pisarchuk, shaking over every comma in history, and over each appointed by analysis. Nobody cares how I treat people. Everyone wants to know how I make out medical history for the insurance... No, not so!.. To INSURANCE did not impose a penalty for poorly written diary. Patients also don't care about my level of skill. They care about my smile, the color of the ship and porridge in the plate. And yet — that "less chemicals" and, necessarily, to "pokapatsya". My main working tool, not a scalpel, and certainly not the head. My tool - handle. The interns that come after the Institute, initially don't believe it. Knowing what swamp they are stuck, there is three weeks to four. But there is no way back...

All... I — Pisarchuk! I work with documents. I'm ready to get paid for it, but then I can not be called a doctor. The doctor's motto — "Shining to others, burns itself out". I am a doctor, I have to heal. But the realities of modern life, I provide the public service of a medical nature. I don't want to burn in vain, knowing that my work is useless, and my profession has migrated from the field of art in the service sector.

Dear people, people, patients! I'm tired. Am I... Not get sick!

A. Sleptsov. Former surgeon Tatta CRH.

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