Morley Evans, 68, left. was a breach birth. He was a fraternal twin. My mother was eclamptic. Dr. Cowan saved all three. When he was four,
Dr. MacKenzie saved him from anaphylaxis with an injection of Adrenalin®. Dr. Garcia repaired a retinal tear a couple of years ago.
Every other medical problem was caused by incompetent bungling doctors in Regina, Sask. Canada
"Medical malpractice has ruined my life.
I would certainly have had a different life
had I not spent 68 years overcoming what
doctors in Regina have done to me.
Malpractice is the elephant in the room that
no one can see because they don't want to see."
Morley vividly recalls a medical emergency that took place on a plane in 1976: My pain is as fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday.
It means nothing to people here in Canada which is the most painful of all.
Makow Comment- Recently I suffered a bout of food poisoning and was amazed how pain increased my empathy for the suffering of others.
by Morley Evans
On March 1, 1976, I was on an Air Canada flight from Toronto to Regina after attending the leadership convention that elected Joe Clark. . Shortly after takeoff, the passengers were offered drinks. I had a Scotch. Then they served snacks. I chose several balls of salmon. I was hungry and wolfed them down. As they started down my throat, I realized my mistake. NUTS! WALNUTS! Anaphylaxis started immediately. I was doomed. I called for a stewardess who moved me up to first class where I could spoil the flight of everyone who paid extra. The captain asked if there was a doctor on board. Unfortunately there was.
A youngish man in a suit appeared and took control. Doctors take control. It's what they do. He identified himself as a psychiatrist. "Oh, great," I silently sighed. He gave his card to the stewardess. The stewardess asked the doctor if they should land in Winnipeg and get me to a hospital. "No, that won't be necessary," the doctor replied. "It's all in his head." I was defenseless. I continued to throw up every few minutes for three hours. My body was covered with big itchy giant hives. I was burning up. I had removed my suit jacket, vest, tie and shirt. I could breath only with difficulty. I took my pulse with my new Rolex watch: 200 BPM! The doctor returned to his seat somewhere at the back. Flying second class? Was this person really a doctor? No, he was really a two-bit quack but he had the authority of a real doctor. People did what he told them to do. Doctors like that.
No one came to see how I was after that. I was on my own. I had been sentenced to Hell.
When we landed in Regina, some EMS guys came onboard with a stretcher. They asked me what was wrong. I told them I needed Adrenalin®. The doctor reappeared to take charge. It's what doctors do. Doctors take charge. Doctors are take-charge kind of guys. I was ENRAGED! I summoned all the energy I could muster. I unloaded twenty-nine years of medical abuse, pain and frustration onto that dumb bastard! Everyone was shocked. The doctor maintained a stoney face. I know words that would make a sailor blush. I can talk like a Parris Island drill sergeant. The ambulance took me to the Regina General Hospital. Ambulance drivers like to drive fast and play with the sireeen. Whoopee! What fun!
When I arrived at the Emergency Ward, I told the doctors I needed Adrenalin®. The doctors were reluctant to accept my diagnosis and treatment plan. I am not a doctor, after all. What do I know? When they asked, I told them who my doctor was: Dr. William Edward Harvie (WEH) "Bill" Alport, MD, one of Regina's leading physicians. He probably told them, "It's all in his head." I lay on the gurney for two more hours before they gave me an injection of Adrenalin® AKA Epinephrine. (Doctors like to have as many names as possible for everything. It separates them from the peons.) They gave me too much. I convulsed. But I did start to improve immediately. My Rolex told me my pulse had been 200 BPM throughout. I had taken my pulse regularly between vomiting fits.
After over five hours I finally got some compassionate medical care in the ICU. I was a mass of swollen throbbing flesh. I had hoses and wires sticking out of me. Whenever I twitched a pretty young nurse appeared to see how I was. After several days, maybe a week, I was discharged to a ward where cold abuse resumed. When I saw my doctor, Dr. William Edward Harvie (WEH) "Bill" Alport, MD, after I was discharged from the Regina General Hospital, he was amused. My doctor told me, "It is all in your head." He reluctantly gave me a prescription for a glass syringe and a vial of Adrenalin when I asked him for something I could use in case of another emergency.
Dr. William Edward Harvie (WEH) "Bill" Alport, MD, thought I was an amusing fellow. I was not amused. Harold Ast, our family pharmacist, looked at me suspiciously, as was his wont, when I had the prescription filled. He put it in a paper bag with a sniff. Why our family bought everything for fifty years from him and then from his son, Dean, at Hill Ave. Drugs is a mystery to me. Dope pushers do not reward loyalty.
Chances are that a pulse of 200 BPM for 5 hours is some sort of record. Olympic athletes don't even do that. People usually die of heart failure under such a load. I didn't die. My heart had to beat fast to keep me from dying when my blood pressure dropped through the floor. Most doctors think Anaphylaxis is a medical emergency, but not here in Regina, however.
Here in Regina, doctors are a law unto themselves. Canadian doctors have been completely immunized from the law since 1901. Few people know that. Few doctors know that. Only young lawyers who don't know the score think they can sue a doctor. I didn't know until I had had a few more hard lessons, but I now know the facts of life in Regina and in Canada. Doctors are above the law in the true north strong and free. Every Canadian should remember that the next time he or she goes to a doctor or sings O Canada.
I have managed to survive the incompetent bungling doctor caste in Regina which with only four exceptions has been attacking me for 68 years. I ain't dead yet. Most of the people I have asked to read this have not replied. My sister hasn't "had time to read it." No one here wants to recognize the elephant in the room. Canadian smugness is overwhelming in Regina where people can't smell a dead skunk rotting under their noses.
First Comment from Richard:
The world famous television interviewer Sir David Frost died on a leisure cruise after dinner on the Queen Elizabeth at sea in 2013. The ship had a doctor and an infirmary.
I live in a city that features a world class medical research center comprising several hospitals, so I can tell you that if Frost had only his heart attack at a downtown hotel here he'd probably be alive today. The difference between life and death depends upon a fast, accurate diagnosis and expert heart surgery immediately.
Two factors figure into the competence of emergency medical treatment: location, and timing. A passenger plane is one of the worst places and times for a medical emergency.
Emergency Medical Technicians are fine for getting you to a hospital in a hurry, but heaven help you if you're dying. Morley would relate to the experience I had at the hands of a male ER nurse that had just been told he had to pull another shift just as he was preparing to clock out. I saw this as the EMT drivers me to this man. It was 6pm on a Saturday night and the ER had burst into pandemonium. I have acute emphysema and desperately needed oxygen and asked for, and this jerk simply refused to give it to me for about an hour until a doctor finally came around and ordered him to.
My advice is if you have a serious medical condition arrange with your doctor to get a Medical ID Bracelet. The bracelet evokes medical authority, as it shows a doctor's previous diagnosis of your condition.