Saturday 18 February 2012

From the Mail's GP, a deeply provocative confession

It's the Mail, I know, but I think he has a point.

Should I discover tomorrow that I have advanced, life-threatening cancer, I won’t go rushing to the doctors for a heavily invasive course of medical treatment. No, I will shut up my London surgery, head to my home in Norfolk, stock up on gin and tonic and have a jolly good time until I meet my end.

Like most doctors, I understand that much of the care we offer patients who have serious, life-threatening illnesses is ultimately futile.

Worse, it can involve many months of gruelling treatments that might possibly extend the length of one’s life, but do nothing for its quality ...

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