MEDICAL MATTERS:Experiencing a dramatic difference to the regular hum-drum, writes Pat Harrold
HAD IT NOT been for the introduction to Ireland of out-of-hours general practice co-operatives, I would not have found myself slathered in make-up and hair gel, cursing in Albanian and passing myself off as the evil gangster Boris Aneroskipetrivisnikotch to 500 paying spectators on the amateur drama festival circuit.
You see, if you were on call every second night, as I was for years, there was absolutely no way that you could take part in a play. But the blessed people at Shannondoc now have me on a one-in-12 rota, which means that I have to show up for duty on the appropriately theatrical 12th night, and the equally blessed people in the Nenagh Players were kind enough to give me the start and so there I was, glowering under the lights, clutching a gun and thinking deep down "I love this". (The gun, I was blithely told, came from "a house in Limerick" and I was to guard it at all times, which I duly did. I absentmindedly produced it from a briefcase at a doctors' meeting and got a most gratifyingly dramatic response. I think it is true to say I have never seen a group of GPs so interested in anything.)
I have been stage struck since I first attended the pantomime Cinderella in the Town Hall theatre in Nenagh and fell in love, young as I was, with the leading lady. From then on the whole glorious business of theatre became a mild obsession. A few years later I saw the early productions of Druid theatre in Galway and I fell even more madly in love from the audience with Marie Mullen, who went on to become one of Ireland's greatest actresses.
When I went to university in Galway, supposedly to study medicine, I found that the word "theatre" had a different meaning for most medical students - far more serious but equally dramatic. I joined the English and Irish language drama groups, and when Macnas, the avant-garde company, sprang into life I was in the first shows, performing with devils and dragons, and celebrating life, youth and pagan madness to an infectious drumbeat. It was lovely to know, as I paced the arid wards of the regional hospital that I could recharge the creative batteries in the warm fug of the Macnas workshop around the corner.
At the time officialdom's view of the whole business fitted firmly in the category of "wasting your time", but I am firmly convinced that I was the better person and, ultimately, doctor for it. The reasons why came back to me when I joined the Nenagh Players: the camaraderie of a small group of people working together in unsociable hours, the ability to keep your nerve and a straight face no matter what happens, the circus attitude of all pitching in towards a common goal, the expression of your creative self and the finding depths in yourself that you did not know you had. And there's the examination and re-examination of the things you normally do and the why and how you do them leading from self awareness to a rare kind of wisdom. This kind of thing should be compulsory for medical students. After all you use much the same skills in presenting at a ward round or conference as performing on stage and it is now acknowledged that clear communication is a corner-stone of the consultation.
I am glad to see that role play and video analysis are now an integral part of medical education. The wise GP trainers and the tutors in the Irish College of General Practice are exploring the Boal methods of interactive theatre. Medical schools have a team of actors to help students develop their communication skills.
For what are doctors but communicators of ideas, methods and actions, using their personal histories, gifts and abilities in a practised fashion?
And all this aside it was a blessed relief to cast off my usual role for a while. After years of being addressed as "Doctor" by complete strangers who obviously know more about me than I know about them, I now heard mutters of "Boris, one of the actors" around the town before or after performances. Whether we were in Tubbercurry or Holy Cross, at home or in Athlone we were now all part of a company - no longer doctors, accountants, policemen or nurses. Our new role as travelling theatricals had more glamour. We were treated and behaved differently, and we came back to the day-job with an added sparkle.
Children act instinctively. Put a few together and you soon hear "I'll be the Hulk and you be a dinosaur" or some- thing similar. Acting (or playing) is good for big kids too. It helps them grow, in all sorts of ways.
So, if you occasionally find doctors a bit bored, a bit tetchy, maybe lacking in enthusiasm, be understanding. They have not yet got in touch with their inner Boris.
Pat Harrold is a GP and thespian in north Tipperary