Heartsinks, in doctors’ private and profane lingo, are difficult patients who conjure dismay in the hearts of the medical professionals they come to see. So Dr Jeffrey Longford (Aden Gillett) reminds his friend and fellow GP after dealing with a “fit as a flea” hypochondriac who returns, week after week, albeit always with a slice of cake.
Jeffrey becomes something of a heartsink himself when he turns from doctor to patient after being diagnosed with terminal cancer. The real-life cases of Paul Kalanithi (in When Breath Becomes Air) and Henry Marsh (in And Finally) show how difficult it is for doctors to adjust to the patient role. In the case of Jeffrey, it is simply annoying: he insists the oncology receptionist use his “doctor” moniker rather than her pet endearments of “lovey” and “poppet”; he is pedantic, superior and generally full of complaint in the waiting room, griping about the electronic medical data system, the hospital’s layout and its gender-neutral loos.
Written by Farine Clarke, a doctor turned patient herself, this medical drama carries important debates around euthanasia and the structure of the NHS but arguments stay brief and simplistic, while Jeffrey’s moans about the introduction of computers in GP surgeries make him sound like a Luddite. The snide asides about artificial intelligence in medicine sound too off-the-cuff as well, given its potential for saving lives in a system struggling for resource. Medical plays such as Tiger Country have shown us the necessary compromises that NHS doctors face but this play does not carry anything approaching that urgency or complexity of ideas.
The human drama feels anaemic here and you just do not feel enough for Jeffrey as he faces up to death. The gallows humour, when it comes, is not funny enough. There is some prickly banter between him and clever young receptionist, Suzie (Megan Marszal) which amuses, and revelation from kooky hypochondriac, Cara (Kathy Kiera Clarke, of Derry Girls fame). Vikash Bhai play’s a younger GP who looks up to Jeffrey, with sensitivity and gentleness. But you do not feel the rapport or conflict between these characters quite enough, partly because of their flatness and the crude exposition of the dialogue.
Directed by Sean Turner, the pacing is slow, which adds to the sense of disbelief at how much time these patients and doctors have to speak to each other. There are some moments that glimmer: when one character speaks about sitting at the bedside of a dying friend, and another of how a hospitalised mother seemed “othered” in paper knickers and institutional gown. A scene in which Cara mentions her “witchy” abilities carries the exciting potential to take the drama into supernatural ground but it swerves back to prosaic doctor talk.
At Riverside Studios, London, until 10 May
Source:
www.theguardian.com
