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In recent years, ‘mental health awareness’ and ‘wellbeing’ have been hot topics in almost all facets of life. It goes without saying that I was pleased to see this ethos entering into the mainstream. However, a recent incident while on call left me questioning whether this ethos had translated into my workplace.

In the early hours of an August morning, a cardiac arrest call came through on my bleep. I arrived to find chest compressions being performed on an 11-week-old baby. I was immediately filled with dread, anxiety, and confusion. As with many district general hospitals with limited paediatric service, the vast majority of sick children are diverted elsewhere, so I was not expecting to see a child. I remember feeling totally out of my depth. It had been a while since I’d dealt with paediatric patients, and I’d certainly never participated in a real paediatric arrest. 

Once the immediate shock subsided, I assumed the default position and took over the airway. It was at that point that I could see and feel the baby up close. I’d seen this colour in a child before, and knew this wasn’t going to end well. As I held that baby’s face, ventilating him, I became conscious of my racing thoughts: ‘Am I doing this right?’… ‘I think I’m going to cry’… ‘No one else is crying, get a grip’… ’Thank goodness the registrar is here’… ’This baby is not going to make it’…

I doubt there are many Bulletin readers who are old enough to remember the 1963 Disney film ‘The Incredible Journey’. Luath – a golden labrador, Bodger – an aging bull terrier, and Tao – a Siamese cat make a perilous journey across the Canadian wilderness to get to their home 300 miles away. As a little girl I sat in the Ritz Cinema with tears flowing because it seemed inevitable that Bodger had died in the final few miles of the journey. Of course he hadn’t. He trotted over the horizon to an ecstatic welcome from his animal and human family.

I was reminded of Bodger and his fictional achievement when I read about a dog called Pip. Last year Pip’s owner took him for a run in Leigh Woods, a beauty spot in Bristol. They became separated, and Pip’s frantic owner took to social media to get help finding him. Pip was soon spotted on the city’s security cameras. He crossed Brunel’s iconic suspension bridge, ran past the famous BBC studios in Whiteladies Road and was captured on camera running by the steps of the museum. Somehow he safely negotiated the notoriously dangerous traffic in the city centre and found his way to his front garden in Bedminster – about four miles from where he’d left his owner. In fact he got home before she did!

Our working lives as anaesthetists revolve around effective teamwork, communication, and empathy with the many different professions we interact with. Interprofessional education (IPE) is an increasingly familiar teaching methodology which aims to enhance and improve these collaborative abilities. 

Considering recent critical reports on the lack of teamwork and interprofessional co-operation within clinical systems, we present a review of IPE and how its increased adoption may help address these failings.