One of the things that intrigues and saddens me is the transition I note in the medical records of a young girl as she grows into womanhood.
Initially most girls attend the GP for simple coughs and colds. All is rosy. A little paracetamol makes everything alright. She is her parents’ cute little thing with no cares in the world. She skips about the clinic curious about everything, as healthy as can be. The snuffly nose is likely viral and not needing anything done other than paracetamol for a slight fever.

She attends again just as she starts puberty. She is with mum and suddenly she needs 6 months of antibiotics to keep her acne at bay. No matter how I reassure her that her spots are an expected outcome of growing up and nothing to worry about she is adamant that they are ruining her life and must be…