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whyilove...being a homoeopathic GP

This week there is a spring in Jobhunter's step at the news that GPs are to prescribe books ­ but is there a Catch 22 lurking for our literary hero?

Today I represent one zillionth of the health service workforce: my tail is wagging. I am a uniquely happy public servant. Have I landed the job of George Clooney's personal and unchaperoned physician? Not yet, fellow jobhunters, but treats are in store. Change is in the air.

Whenever I do those questionnaires to investigate my personality type, I fail on the change-handling section. I hate change. I take Valium to change the sheets. I had CBT when vacutainers came in (actually I still don't use them).

However, there are three potential significant job events I believe will sweeten my twilight years.

Best by far is the news that we are to prescribe books; out with the BNF, in with the TLS. Here endeth all those night terrors about allergies, incompatibilities, and overdoses; here beginneth shared care with another underfunded species, The Librarian.

The pharmaceutical giants will have to nip into publishing or go bust, poor lambs. How my life will be enriched. I can get tax relief on my Jilly Cooper collection, and plaster the waiting room with wondrous quotations from Shakespeare.

Down with the MMR posters and up with 'out, damned spot!'.

Those untidy chlamydia leaflets can be recycled, and 'get thee to a nunnery' will be spray painted in the loo.

The IBS contingent can be given Gone With The Wind, budgie fanciers suffering from avian violence could get To Kill a Mockingbird. Osteoporotic old ladies would receive She Stoops to Conquer, and (I apologise for this one) men with hypospadias could be introduced to Little Women.

The second boost to my morale is the White Paper promise of health trainers. I do indulge in the occasional whiff of exercise, but never dreamed that the new contract would really boost my income into the personal trainer bracket.

At present I go down solo on the kitchen floor and do abdominal crunches while preparing the five portions of healthy fruit that my teenagers desire for supper (hah).

The dog regards this as an opportunity to cross breed. So, I can't wait for a Lennox Lewis lookalike to work on the quality of my framework. The practice nurse and I are quite happy to put in an extra session.

Please don't write to Pulse if you think my cognitive powers have failed: tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

The third portion of cheer has been much discussed. We are to be renamed.

I might change gender, and have Sisyphus tattooed on my weary shoulder.

Dr Sally Whittet is a GP in south London

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