I am a late comer to medicine, and it’s probably fair to say that I arrived at my medical career by accident, rather than by design. I joined the Army straight out of high school and completed officer training at ADFA (Australian Defence Force Academy) and the Royal Military College Duntroon. I then spent 20 years as an infantry officer, during which time I had the privilege of commanding young Australian men and women, and serving in the far flung (and not so nice) corners of the globe – Somalia, Syria, South Lebanon, East Timor, Iraq and Afghanistan. After twenty odd years I decided to take ‘the road less travelled’ – to follow a different career path in the Army. Medicine was not my first choice. I wanted to become a linguist, and after completing language aptitude testing, I suggested to the Army that I should undertake a year of intensive Arabic or Dari language training. The Army, in its wisdom, said that it had no need for me to become a linguist. 18 months later I was serving in Afghanistan (where the national language is Dari). Shortly after arriving in Afghanistan I received my GAMSAT result and was invited to interview at Sydney University. I came back to Australia for the interview, returned to Afghanistan to complete my tour of duty, and shortly after I came home, I was a medical student. Looking back, it was a surreal experience.
Before I started my medical training, I knew I was going to become a rural generalist. Actually, that’s not quite true. I knew that Army expected me to become a GP, and I knew that I was going to train through ACRRM. As a high school student, I read the book To Kill a Mockingbird, in which Atticus Finch says that ‘…you never really understand a person until you climb into their skin and walk around in it.’ This is often misquoted as ‘to walk a mile in another person’s shoes’. I’ve literally walked many miles in my patients’ shoes, and before I started medicine I had a very clear understanding of what was expected of me as an Army doctor – because it was what I expected from the Army doctor when I was an infantry officer. I was duty bound to train with ACRRM to become a rural generalist.
Undertaking GP training as an Army medical officer is challenging. On a day-to-day basis, the Army needs you in the barracks working as a GP, or providing medical support to troops during field exercises in Australia, or supporting troops deployed overseas on military operations. Sometimes this can be at very short notice – we have a number of ADF doctors who were recalled from leave to provide support to people affected by bushfires at the moment. Army GPs also spend a couple of days a week (when Army commitments allow) working in a civilian GP practice, so that we get to see paediatric and geriatric patients, and chronic disease (i.e. things you don’t see in Army patients) – to achieve the ‘comprehensive general practice’ experience required by GP registrars. The exigencies of military service mean that the pathway to fellowship is a meandering route and the ADF registrar is a ‘hunter and gatherer’ – we undertake training and gather experiences and competencies in a disjointed manner. Consequently, it takes us a bit longer to get through training. But that’s ok – becoming a rural generalist is as much about the journey as it is about the destination.
In a lot of respects, working as an Army GP is like working in a small country town. The barracks – our town – has about 4000 people. Although most barracks are located in metropolitan or regional locations, the ‘patients’ routinely go into rural and remote locations (field exercises and deployments), and their doctor goes with them. This is one of the unique aspects of being a military doctor – we routinely provide ‘comprehensive general practice and emergency (pre-hospital) care’ in a tent, at sea on a ship, in the back of a helicopter or fixed wing aircraft, or in a deployable field hospital. When we do so, we deploy as a team – usually with a few medics and a nurse. This is another unique aspect of military medicine – as a registrar you are expected to lead a team, and you are required to provide training for the members of the team.
Being an Army doctor can be incredibly frustrating at times, but it is also really rewarding. The best part is the people – my patients are the young women and men who have volunteered to serve their country, and it is a privilege to care for them. You also get unique opportunities and experiences that are not available to your non-military medical peers. Flying at tree-top level in military helicopters, sailing on a patrol boat through the Kimberley Coast, training in chemical warfare, providing support to humanitarian activities, etc. As an Army doctor you are guaranteed ‘a life less ordinary’.
Do it. Having started medicine quite late in life, my single piece of advice to medical students and junior doctors is not to rush. You don’t need to be the first person in your cohort to become a specialist – you’ll end up spending longer doing the same thing. The foundation of medicine is primary care and I think all doctors should spend some time in primary care. And the best way to do this is as a rural generalist. The advantage of being a rural generalist is that you can be anything and everything. By that I mean it takes about six to eight years (sometimes more) to specialise in a single discipline. However, as a rural generalist, in the time that it takes your colleagues to specialise, you can complete procedural skills training in a few disciplines, underpinned by a strong foundation in general practice. This is your ticket to anywhere.