When I tell people I am a clown doctor some people say “A what?” and others “Oh, that is wonderful, but it must be so hard.” My job is not hard. Being the mother sitting by the bedside of your child in intensive care, praying to God to give you back the child you had before the accident, before the cancer, before the diagnosis, that is hard. My job is fun. I see the beauty of humanity every time I go to work, the caring, the love and the laughter. How many people can say that about their job?
When we go into a hospital ward we take our advice from the nurses. Then we take our cue from the patient. We introduce play into the serious hospital setting. I love working with kids. Kids are already in play mode, they know how to do it, but most adults have forgotten how to be silly. Us adults take ourselves very seriously, but kids know how to laugh and use your imagination to take you to a place where there is no pain, even for five minutes.
At work the nursing staff, the doctors and my colleagues and I are in people’s lives when they are at their most vulnerable. Sometimes it’s the worst day of a family’s life. Our work is not about making fun of people, it’s about sharing the joke. Clown Doctors are usually the butt of the joke. Humour is a loaded gun; we find it’s more effective if you aim it at yourself. Like the medical staff we also believe there is nothing wrong with leaving your patients in stitches.
Here are some beautiful photos of me and my gorgeous colleague Dr Silly Billy at work at The Children’s Hospital at Westmead (in western Sydney) by Cameron Richardson of The Daily Telegraph Sydney.