Under my current contract as a junior doctor (GP trainee), when I return to work from maternity leave as a part time trainee (working three days a week), after childcare costs I will expect to have £1155 per month as take home pay. Incidentally, that works out as £96.25 per day I actually work and if those days are 9 hours long that works out as £10.69 per hour.
Under the new contract being imposed from August 2016, for doing exactly the same job I can expect my part time take home pay after childcare costs to be £644 per month. That is about £53.67 per actual day worked and an hourly rate of £5.96.
£644 per month to contribute to the running of the household, the mortgage, food, petrol, insurance, phones, electricity, gas, water.
But more than that, a portion of that £644 per month goes on my professional indemnity with the MDU, membership of the Royal College of General Practitioners, the British Medical Association and accreditation by the General Medical Council. These add up to about £1000 per year and three of them are non-negotiable (RCGP, MDU, GMC).
More than that again: I have exams to take if I ever want to actually qualify and work as a GP. Taking those exams will cost me over £2000, and that's assuming I manage to pass first time.
This is not sustainable.
We aren't kicking up a fuss because we are having a pay freeze, or are only getting a 1% pay rise. We are upset because we are having a pay cut. Not a "pay cut relative to the rising cost of living", but an actual, real, significant pay cut. For doing exactly the same job as we are doing right now. In fact, many hospital junior doctors will end up working many more antisocial hours than they do right now, as the new contract removes the financial incentives for Trusts to limit the hours worked by junior doctors, and considers evenings and all day on a Saturday as “normal working hours” and therefore to be paid at a normal rate of pay. It is a rota co-ordinator’s dream, I’m sure.
We sacrifice a lot to be your doctors. In the 6 years since I’ve qualified, I have missed three weddings of friends, worked four Christmases, missed countless friends’ and family’s birthdays, hen parties, summer BBQs. I’ve had jobs where my holiday was prescribed to me - I was told when I would have holiday and I was given only four weeks’ notice of this and was unable to swap. My other half couldn’t get leave at the same time. No-one in charge at work seemed to care. I wasn’t able to attend my grandfather’s funeral when he died suddenly last year, as I was supposed to be on night shift and couldn’t arrange a swap at short notice. I didn’t get to say my goodbyes.
In my time working in hospitals, I have done my best. My utter, absolute best. I have been there beyond my shift on more occasions than I can count. I have held the hands of dying patients and comforted their families; I have excused myself from the ward to howl in the toilets when patients have died unexpectedly. I have talked, negotiated, cajoled and called in favours from specialty doctors, theatre co-ordinators, social workers, nurse specialists and more in order to get the best for my patients. I have swung into action in A&E to help save the life of major trauma patients, or a child about to die of undiagnosed diabetes. I have been the unfortunate soul who walks with their head bowed into the relatives’ room to give bad news. I have gritted my teeth and behaved professionally when patients have taken up our precious time in A&E with problems that are better dealt with by GPs, pharmacists or even common sense. I have sprinted across the hospital to answer the emergency bleep to many cardiac arrests. When a fetal heartbeat fell dangerously low during labour, I have assisted in the Caesarean section that delivered the baby in less than 10 minutes and may have saved its life. I have been spat at and scratched by patients. I have had sexist remarks made to me by patients. I have been shouted at by patients frustrated by how long they have waited to be seen. And I have kept going back for more. Not for the money, but because I love it and I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life.
I may have to use my imagination soon, though. Under the new contract, I may not be able to afford to finish my training. What a waste of the taxpayer’s investment in me through my 5 years of medical school and 5 and a half years of post-graduate training.
I am heartbroken.