I Love Being A Doctor, But Canada Doesn't Love Me

I love my job. Anyone who knows me, knows that I do, and that I feel personally responsible for the health of each one of my patients. My staff know that I will gladly squeeze in the baby with the fever, the couple who just had a fender-bender, the teenager who feels suicidal, and when the five-minute medication refill turns into a 40-minute counselling session because the patient has been having an affair for 25 years and thinks they may have contracted HIV, or the IV drug user comes in with an abscess having not eaten in two days. I sit, and I listen, and I help if I can.

I call people with results on the we…
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