Flying Doctor

i The second match had been more or less already arranged. A much nged staff team including "professionals" Messrs. Shuttleworth, ' lissett and Robinson found the School team equally strengthened, suiting in a goalless first half. Though sunny, the hard ground and a oss-wind made conditions more difficult than in the first match. The rsistent running of Mr. Chapman-Smith on the right enabled the staff to go two goals up and this remained the final score after the School d had a penalty saved.

It was felt that all masters who wanted to play had had a game (indeed the physics department had provided a 100 per cent turnout in the first match) and everyone had enjoyed playing—surely the object of the exercise. Thanks must be given to those boys who acted as linesmen and to the referees Messrs. Hirst and Power.

S.E.B.

A DOCTOR GOES ON HIS ROUNDS- 580 MILES IN ONE DAY!

—a doctor working with the Royal Flying Doctor Service at Port Hedland describes a day in his life

In the Metropolitan area we may feel inconvenienced if we have to travel across the River to attend the surgery of our chosen doctor. However, for the people living in the remote areas of our State, their link with their doctor will be through a radio transceiver, and periodically the doctor has to bring his "surgery" to the patient—sometimes a distance of 250 miles or more, using the Royal Flying Doctor Service aircraft.

Doctors and nurses who work with the Western Australian Section of the Royal Flying Doctor Service are actually employees of the State

Public Health Department. Their close association with the Service and the use of the Section's communications and aerial medical transport facilities enables them to cover their wide area of responsibility. The use of the radio network maintained by the Royal Flying Doctor Service enables medical consultations, as well as clinical and emergency visits to be arranged using the Service's specially equipped aircraft. These dedicated men and women help to provide the very necessary medical care for people living and working in the remote areas of Western

Australia.

Here is an account of a day spent by a doctor working with the Royal

Flying Doctor Service at Port Hedland. His journey took him 290 miles to Jigalong and meant that with the return trip, he had a working day of 12 hours plus. "7.30 a.m.—it's Jigalong day. I work as one of the Royal Flying Doctor Service doctors who fly out to clinics and emergencies in the i outback. 61

"Today will be a busy day. I arrive at the District Hospital at Port Hedland to pick up patients being returned to Jigalong following treatment —three adults and three children. Sammy aged four years has been having treatment for gastro-enteritis—his third time this year—his mother came too. David has come in with his mother who was having an operation. He had come in as a 'boarder' but was discovered to have had a 'bad chest'. The third mother had brought her child with her while she had her fourth baby. "We all pile into my car, plus the clinic bag, and bread and ice-cream for Jigalong, which are much appreciated luxuries. The drive out to the airport is punctuated by a good deal of laughter from the other occupants of the car. Dick, our R.F.D.S. pilot is waiting for us on the tarmac— his wife Hanne is a Base radio operator, so his work is a family affair. "Soon we are airborne, climbing into a blue sky with the sea behind us and the Australian desert in front. Sammy is quite a seasoned traveller by now and must surely think that this is the way everyone travels. "Our first port of call is a small mining township, where the arrival of the Doctor each fortnight is a social as well as a medical occasion. We are met by the post-mistress/telephone operator / storekeeper / nursePooh-bah of ample proportions and highly competent, who drives the pilot and myself into the township in a car that Noah left behind. She is a great character and medically useful in giving some of the background information about the whites and natives who I am to see. "My first patient, Tom, suffers from heart failure, and treatment is difficult due to the length of time between visits. He lives by himself in a cosy, tin shack and today he is rather breathless after his mile walk to the clinic. I alter his dosage of digoxin, trying to make an educated guess at a dosage which should really be assessed in hospital—but Tom is not too keen on hospitals. My next patient is Nancy who has been drinking again. I am expected to give a verbal wigging and tell her to be a better girl next time. "Some of the patients have driven 70-100 miles to see me with a full range of medical problems ranging from pregnancy to leprosy and infant feeding problems. A pastoralist comes in with severe osteo-arthritis of his hip, requiring an operation within my capabilities but not within the facilities of the District Hospital. I have to persuade him that a journey of 1,000 miles to Perth is the only way. In the meantime, I suggest different drugs. "By about 11.30 a.m. the clinic is finished and I walk over to the policeman's house for a cool drink. I find Dick and the policeman discussing local gemstones. We are refreshed by our drinks and once again climb into the sky heading for Jigalong. "Jigalong started as a mission station but is now a Government Community Welfare Station with a varying population of Aboriginals and whites. We come in low to announce our arrival and land on the strip. In the full heat of summer, opening the plane door lets in a blast of oven-hot air, but today the temperature is an ideal 90°F. Dick ties the plane down to prevent a 'with-wine removing it before we return, and Sammy begins to take some interest in the proceedings at this stage. We see Kevin, the Station Manager roaring towards us in his Ute with clouds of dust in his wake. He stops to greet us with a huge labrador at 62

lillill his side. We drive into the Station, past the waving children who are

playing in the creek-bed, and we have lunch with Kevin and his wife

Gloria. This is always a pleasant interlude and useful too as I learn of the recent happenings on the Station which have direct reference to the clinic in the afternoon. "The medical side of the Station is run by Doreen, a young nurse of infinite patience and a real love of the Aboriginals, especially their

Oildren. Two days previously there was a fight in the camp and she cl to patch up the broken heads. One of the victims comes into the is with a grin from ear to ear and a massive bandage around her d. The wound is well sutured and will do alright. "The next patient is a baby a fortnight old. On my previous round

a visiting consultant obstetrician had performed a 'version', converting a breech baby into a normal head-first presentation. We confidentially said she would not deliver for at least a fortnight, whereupon she had 'gone bush' and delivered within the hour! The baby is a fine boy with the right number of fingers and toes, accompanied by a beaming mother.

It had taken me months to become accepted by the Aboriginals to a point where they would tell me their troubles and particularly in the early months I would have been lost without Doreen's knowledge of the people. "A seven year old Aboriginal boy called Terry comes in with very little to say for himself apart from his 'head hurt' and he is 'sick'. He has been hit on the head during play and Doreen is questioning him.

I examine him and decide to take him back to hospital. "By 5 p.m. the clinic is finished and Dick and I set off with Terry,

and Susie who is an expectant mother. I realise with relief that had young

Terry* been worse I could have called on the 'Duke' with its pressurised cabin to bring us home. On the way home we hear that the 'Duke' is in fact on the way up from Roebourne with another patient and as it is my night on call he/she will be 'mine'.

"We land back at our home base and I drive Terry and Susie into the

Hospital, settling them into their respective wards. I say goodbye to

Dick and make my way to Casualty where Rob, the senior pilot is just

helping to bring in a man with acute appendicitis, a very suitable case

for the 'Duke' as the pressurised cabin prevents the possibility of perfora-

tion and abdominal infection. We admit him and arrange surgery. "A telephone call from Goldsworthy informs me of a pregnant woman

in labour. I ring up David, the third pilot, and a cheery voice says 'I'm on my way'. I realise it is going to be a long night".

The day after the above trip took place, young Terry fell unconscious whilst playing. Our doctor thought that he might have a cerebral tumour and accompanied the child to Perth in the pressurised Beechcraft 'Duke' aircraft. Doctor was right. Terry was in Princess Margaret Hospital for a long time and underwent brain surgery. Unfortunately at the time of operation, it was found that Terry does not have long to live.

On 1st November a happy little boy returned to Port Hedland in the Duke' which earlier that day had flown a sick baby and an accident victim down to Perth from the North. Laden with books and toys from well-wishers, and dressed in a cowboy suit with a hat to hide his shaved head, Terry, unaware of his predicament, was the happiest child in the world. At least with the aid of the Royal Flying Doctor Service he has had the same chance of cure as any child in the City.