Scott Wilkes: Sunderland’s got talent
BMJ 2019; 364 doi: https://doi.org/10.1136/bmj.l95 (Published 16 January 2019) Cite this as: BMJ 2019;364:l95Biography
Scott Wilkes, 51, is head of a new school of medicine being established at the University of Sunderland. A GP for 25 years, he still practises part time in north Tyneside and is professor of general practice and primary care at Sunderland. He has worked for the National Institute for Health Research (NIHR) for over 10 years on the Clinical Research Network and as chair of the Yorkshire and North East Committee on Research for Patient Benefit. The son of a Northumberland fruit seller, he aims to make the new medical school a source of opportunity for many young people who lack the social advantages that often ease entry into medicine. The school opens in September 2019.
What was your earliest ambition?
To be a professional golfer. Unfortunately, the lowest golf handicap I’ve managed is 4. I’m clinging on to this standard.
What was your best career move?
Being coerced to apply to chair the NIHR’s Research for Patient Benefit North East Committee. I took this opportunity to visit most of the trusts and universities in the north east. This led to a conversation at Sunderland University, which led to a personal chair.
What was the worst mistake in your career?
I took central teaching house officer jobs to assist my then orthopaedic ambitions. By the time I realised that I wanted to pursue general practice I’d missed the GP training scheme applications, and I had to cobble together my own training programme across two deaneries.
How is your work-life balance?
Fantastic. I play golf every Saturday, and nothing gets in the way of that. And I do the parkrun with my wife and children every Saturday morning.
What single change would you like to see made to the NHS?
Halt the “Doctor First” telephone triage system: it reduces face-to-face consulting capacity. We should allow patients to book face-to-face GP appointments but, when they’re full, we should direct them to other commissioned services.
What would you say to your former student self?
It’ll turn out all right in the end: if it’s not all right it’s not the end. Keep trying.
Do doctors get paid enough?
Junior doctors no, senior doctors yes. Junior hospital doctors have low salaries for a long time before becoming consultants; salaried GPs earn significantly less than GP principals; and GP principals are diminishing because of the administrative burden and relatively low remuneration compared with their senior hospital counterparts. It’s a mess.
To whom would you most like to apologise?
All of the wonderful people who have not (yet) been able to secure a position in our new medical school because we have so many good potential candidates. I could have opened multiple medical schools with the talent that’s come forward.
What do you usually wear to work?
I’m guilty of a bit of power dressing, but it’s part of professionalism: an open necked shirt and a suit, preferably with shiny shoes.
How do you keep fit and healthy?
I do Metafit [30 minute metabolic workout] every Monday and parkrun every Saturday, I play golf regularly, and I go to the gym a couple of times a week. The gym is where I do my thinking.
Which living doctor do you most admire, and why?
Paul Creighton, a retired GP training scheme director in the north east and fellow GP partner. I learnt greatly from his leadership, and I still have a beer with him regularly. I’d recommend a mentor to every professional.
What is the worst job you have done?
Some of the junior hospital jobs in the early 1990s, where one on-call period every two months lasted 56 hours without a break from the dreaded pager. This has resulted in me still being the grumpiest person on the planet when my sleep is disturbed.
What unheralded change has made the most difference in your field?
Without doubt, the GP electronic patient record. We can read medical records, prove what was and wasn’t done, and have a wonderfully accurate medical life summary. Patient safety at its best.
What new technology or development are you most looking forward to?
One patient, one record—and remove all other electronic systems in various parts of the NHS that don’t intercommunicate.
What book should every doctor read?
All doctors are leaders. Leaders create the culture of the working environment. And the qualities required of leaders can be found in Building the Happiness Centred Business by Paddi Lund.
What is your guiltiest pleasure?
Cadbury’s Dairy Milk chocolate. I’m a cheap date.
Where or when are you happiest?
When I’m surrounded by people who want to be with me, achieving what we collectively want to achieve. That goes for the university, the general practice, and my family at home.
What television programmes do you like?
David Attenborough’s natural history programmes and, in contrast, that highly entertaining social experiment dissecting human behaviour, I’m a Celebrity . . . Get Me Out of Here! It scratches my professional behaviourist itch as an inquisitive GP.
What personal ambition do you still have?
None, really—nor did I ever. I tend to follow my father’s philosophy of “Do what you enjoy, because you’ll do it well.” I’ve done this in spades since my stroke at age 30.
Summarise your personality in three words
Friendly, helpful, task oriented.
What is your pet hate?
Dogs—yes, truly! As a young boy I was chased by a dog, sought refuge by climbing a gatepost, and was stuck there for a long time. We never had pets because my father couldn’t see the point. I adopted this view.
What would be on the menu for your last supper?
That’s easy: homemade chicken jalfrezi and homemade tiramisu.
What poem, song, or passage of prose would you like at your funeral?
I have three songs:
“(Something Inside) So Strong” by Labi Siffre: “The higher you build your barriers, the taller I become . . .”
“The Greatest Love of All” by Whitney Houston: “I believe that children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way / Show them all the beauty they possess inside . . .”
And the theme tune to BBC Open golf, while the mourners leave the funeral.
Is the thought of retirement a dream or a nightmare?
When I was 30 I gave up on-call night work after having a PFO [patent foramen ovale] associated cerebellar infarction (PFO closure and full recovery). It was a turning point in my life, and since then I’ve followed my dreams, not the herd. Paradoxically, I now work harder than ever (although not through the night), having pursued my PhD and worked for the NIHR and the university. I have no desire to stop.
If you weren’t in your present position what would you be doing instead?
A similar role somewhere else.