Yesterday was my last working day at the Practice I joined in November 1990. A few more tears were shed – one receptionist in particular cried all morning, only stopping briefly whenever I appeared!

I had a baby clinic scheduled, which are always a joy, and one patient I had fitted in, who needed seeing this week. Loose ends were duly tied up, and I dashed out at midday to visit an elderly lady that I had wanted to review, to make sure that she was all sorted out.

Returning, to the surgery, I had the briefest of glimpses of a familiar profile – one of our retired staff – before she ducked down to avoid being spotted by me. I parked up and walked back, then hugged and laughed with the three occupants of the car, who were rueing their failure to sneak in unnoticed!

A short while later, I was duly asked by one of the receptionists to come upstairs. Of course it was no surprise that there was a presentation to be made – I had been awake half the night, mentally rehearsing my speech (or the jokes at least). What did surprise me, was how packed our large conference room was, with doctors and staff from across the five sites, and still more retired staff than the three I had rumbled earlier.

Teresa, one of my Brune Practice Partners, gave a speech, which was both funny and most humbling in its praise, and I was able to deliver the reply without any emotional struggle. Indeed, it was just a happy occasion, with laughter and hugs and a few reminiscences … and promises to keep in touch.

And gifts? Well I have a flying lesson to book, and a caricature to hang up, a sailing boat cake that looks too good to eat, and a book on Haslar Hospital, where I worked for several years part time as a Hospital Practitioner in Dermatology.

I loaded the car, switched off my computer, said my goodbyes, and was about to leave when one of the nursing team asked me: “Are you still at work?” “Hardly,” I said, “why?” She explained that one of my patients was not well, and declining her offers of help. I had looked after him last year, and he had been most grateful for my help – we had connected somehow, and got on especially well. I wasn’t going to pass this on to the Duty doctor … he was my patient. I went back to my room, switched on my computer, brought up his details, and rang him, offering to see him. He declined, but we talked for a while, and a plan was made that we were both happy with. Continuity, family medicine, the doctor-patient relationship, teamwork and communication – traditional values that are so important to me – were all wrapped up in this simple episode of care. Nothing special, really – I’d like to think that any decent GP would do the same. As I wished him well, I felt that this was a good note on which to end my work here.