what mummy does at work

The prize comment in BMA news this week is accompanied by this cartoon which made me smile, and then feel sad.

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My upsetting sexist comments this week came from the same consultant whilst I was performing a very high anastomosis of the CBD into a loop of jejunum, Mr HPB turned to the fourth year student and said “just think in a few years you could be doing this too, how would you like that?”. I was seething; a few years? How about 15 years. This was swiftly followed by “you’ve got to be mad to do this job (it was by now 8pm, we had started at 10am) KBW is a bit mad because she wants to be a surgeon” this was again said in front of the student, scrub nurse, more junior colleague and another consultant.

I was livid, thousands of operations, hundreds of hours of independent operating, I AM A SURGEON I shouted in my head. A man would not have taken it, one of my colleagues famously retorted “not fucking really” after 10 hours with this person when he had let him do nothing and was asked if he wanted to put in the skin staples. I need to grow some balls. The good news is that there is no bile in the drains: want to be a surgeon my ass.

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