Reflections of Dr McConville on his retirement from general practice

- Dr Michael McConville -

“How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon. December is here before it’s June. My goodness, how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?” - wrote Dr Suess.

He should have added that the older we get, the faster it flies. Since I’ve started to think I’m having breakfast every five minutes, it’s time for me to retire from my practice, and I wanted to thank all the patients who have trusted me all these years. To those I’ve helped, I thank you for the privilege of allowing me into your life. For those I have failed, I did my best. I wish you all God’s love and grace into the future. I want to thank Anne Mary Reilly, Orla McEntee, Geraldine Coyle and Kamila Wronowska, my four right-hand women.

I first arrived in Cavan to work as a doctor in 1997. My first port of call was Swanlibar, which, having come from a warp-speed inner-city practice in Manchester, was a bit of a shock. The surgery, from nine until noon, had no appointment system, so everyone turned up at five to twelve. I was there until four, well past the start of afternoon surgery.

The “five minutes with the patient” approach to medicine practised in England was like eating a box of dairy milk, one bite at a time. In Cavan, it was like half a pound of liquorice allsorts every two minutes. I didn’t know up from down when I left two weeks later.

I landed then in Belturbet, which didn’t help much. I couldn’t hear the patients over the raucous din and the occasional fiddle player in the waiting room, and my appeals for quiet never lasted very long. But no matter where I went, it was the same. From Ballyhaise to Ballinagh, Castletara to Crosserlough: boisterous banter and a Céilí of infectious craic seemed to endure unbroken through even the cruellest of tragedies.

The concerns of the day were no different from now, but the Cavan people then had a stoic, quiet strength that made my job a joy, and I loved every moment. Sadly, my sojourn through the boonies didn’t last, and too soon, I had to leave this soul of Ireland to move to the big smoke...

Cavan Town, where the urban sophisticates were discernible by the boastful horsepower of their tractors parked on every double yellow line and narrow street, was five minutes and a world away. I went to work as a two-week locum for the late John Sullivan, who became like a second father to me. My subsequent interview for an extension was held in great secrecy on a Tuesday evening as a hundred others shouted their order over our heads in Blessing’s Bar. It didn’t take long. “Will you stay, Mick?” Asked John. “How could I not?” I answered and threw my watch in the bin. I was with him for the next 10 years.

I even looked after the army, who showed up in platoons with bad backs on forced march inspection days and lined up with military precision as I walked down their ranks on the street, issuing dispensations like a parish priest in a hurry to be elsewhere.

John and I worked so well together. I often remember him and my other medical colleagues: Paddy Faulkner, Jimmy Fay, John O’Connell, Joan Aherne, Garret Igoe, and so many other Cavan GPs with great affection. I also thank the other professionals who helped me personally and with patients, particularly the pharmacist John McManus and solicitors Michael Ryan and Garrett Fortune, who are faithful advocates of the law and good sense. And to all the professional staff in NEDOC. What happened to that old Cavan? Does anyone know where it went? I’d love to visit one more time.

The crash in 2008 was, of course, a devastating blow to Ireland, and we have yet to recover from the response to COVID-19. These events take their toll on doctors, too, and after 40 years of practice, it is now time to pass the baton. We are starting a new medical age, the genetic and molecular epoch. Although new technologies offer great promise, they only sometimes deliver, and we need to proceed with greater caution in this era.

It seems to society that what is acceptable is now less acceptable to me, and I increasingly feel I no longer fit. We also need to reform medical education and the structure of medical services to promote a deeper scientific and engineering approach to problem-solving and permanently fix the problem of advancement and retention of our children to be the next generation of Irish doctors with a renewed commitment to putting patients first. The challenges this poses are immense.

I hope that another young person will pick up where I left off and that they find the magic in this county that I did. Ulster is a special place, and the people of Cavan are at the heart of that. I spent my best years in Cavan here; leaving is always hard but unavoidable. I will take the advice of an old patient and friend. I’ll listen to Northern Sound in the morning, and if they don’t read out my name, I’ll get up and find something to do.

Thank you for all the beautiful memories and, most of all, the laughs—Happy Christmas and blessings for the New Year.