Jobs for the boys...

An unusual title for an article, I’m sure you’ll agree. Allow me to explain.

In the past week or so, I've skated around something major that occurred in my life.  Nothing terrible, thankfully, but certainly made me a little introspective and most of all, grateful.

The next couple of posts will be about this incident and the repercussions from it.

The post title is an expression my Mother uses a great deal, especially when it comes to describing, specifically, cronyism.

Lately, however, she has been bandying it around with alarming regularity especially in conversation when it comes to Ontario’s oft negatively smeared health care system and the practice of referrals from one doctor to another. Most of the time Mum would liken a battery of expensive and possibly unwanted and perhaps unnecessary tests, all on the tax payers tab, to supplement the income of medical practitioners. For the record, this was the very same woman who had life-saving surgery earlier this year to remove an aortic aneurysm – two of them, in fact.

As we all know, Ontario’s health care system is beaten up so regularly by critics, pundits and armchair quarterbacks, there are times when it must surely feel like a piñata.

There were many occasions lately, that I too, had to reluctantly agree with Mum’s point of view.

Until the other day, that is.

When we moved into the Kawartha Lakes region six years ago, we could not find a family doctor. My wife, Sheryl and I went on waiting lists. In Peterborough there was not even a true walk in clinic; there was one you could call, hope to get through and secure an appointment with whatever doctor was on duty in the clinic that day. However, if you missed a window of opportunity when the lines were not busy, it invariably led to disappointment. We ‘kept’ our doctors in Toronto.

In the late fall of 2008, we were advised that, if we were interested, a new-to-the-region doctor was opening a practice. Did we want to arrange an interview? This process allowed both parties to talk frankly with one another. It was at this interview that I first met Dr. Carolyn Brown.

Carolyn attended the University of Toronto where she received her medical degree in 1977. From there, Dr. Brown moved to Calgary Alberta where she completed the Family Practice residency program in 1979.

For the past 12 years, Dr. Brown and her husband Dr. John Ashbourne worked in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia.

At the end of the interview, we agreed that we would ‘test drive’ each other. Sheryl, too.

In the spring of 2009, Dr. Brown scheduled a full physical for yours truly. From that, I was referred to an allergist (nice enough fellow) but I could have confirmed I was allergic to cats – we have five of them. Due to chronic sinusitis, I also saw an ENT specialist and ended up having my sinuses cleaned and scraped – again.

Due to my being a certain age and the fact I am diabetic, have experienced elevated blood pressure and cholesterol issues (all well managed through medication and lifestyle) and a family history of heart issues on both Mum and Dad’s side (mild issues), she wanted to refer me to a cardiologist, Dr. Brian Mackenzie – for a thorough look see, to establish a baseline. I had never exhibited any symptoms, chest pains, shortness of breath – nothing directly associated with a heart issue.

“Here we go again,” I thought as I heard my Mother’s voice repeating her cynical mantra.

A series of tests was ordered over a six week period, including an EKG, being installed for a Holter monitor (this also involved vigorous and quite random shaving of my chest) and finally having a stress test where a radioactive substance, Thallium, was introduced to my system through an intravenous line as I exercised on an ever-inclining treadmill. Images are taken then and a few hours later.

A couple of weeks later I sat down with Dr. Mackenzie and we reviewed my results. Now, as many of you know, I have rediscovered exercise after having a hip replacement three years ago. I would work out at least five times a week, usually an aggressive cardio session, taking aerobic classes with spandex-enrobed nymphs and older folks like me who wanted to be healthier. Anyway, it seems that there was something ‘unsettling’ that he could vaguely see on the images. Given that I had exhibited no symptoms, he spoke of anomalies and false positives. He did, however, advise that the only way to be certain was to undergo an Angiogram which he then explained in detail.

At this time, Sheryl and I were about three weeks from moving house and we were up to our ears in boxes as we packed. Plus, ironically enough, I was completing ‘The Bug Stops Here©TM’, an innovative educational comic book project for Peterborough Regional Health Centre. Timing was not great. We compromised and agreed that we would schedule the procedure for shortly after the move.

October 23 was the day. Reluctantly rising just after 4.00am, downing a couple of thick double espressos each standing over the kitchen sink, we drove the two hours from Barrie back to Peterborough. Sheryl sleepily asked where my insurance policies were and inquired if they were up-to-date.

The hospital staff we encountered that day at PRHC was fantastic. Caring and human. Treating all including, this big lug, with respect and dignity. One nurse, Cathy, proudly told me she had recently completed her power tools course at a large box store as she wielded an electric shaver and proceed to create a crude and rudimentary ‘Peterborough landing strip’ in my groin! Any questions I had, they answered. When I joked with them, they joked right back. Without crossing any line, real or imagined.

My surgeon for the procedure was Dr. Peter McLaughlin. He spoke with me beforehand and described in detail what he was going to be doing. I was kept comfortable and warm in very a cold environment and given a mild sedative to take off the edge.

A short time later, I was wheeled into the procedure room, an even colder place like a walk in meat locker (sic) with monitors, wires, much expensive-looking equipment and what I thought was way too many people.

I was covered with special blankets to shield most of my body from the potential harmful rays of the diagnostic imaging equipment that would monitor the progress of the wire that was inserted though my groin and travelled up into my heart. Images were taken from all angles and finally, a contrast dye was injected so that definitive pictures might be taken. This was an odd sensation. I was forewarned I would feel a warm flush-like sensation. I thought that my bladder had voided then and there on the table!

Moments later, it was done. The actual procedure likely took less than 15 minutes. Radiation vests and spatter guards were removed and I was returned to the recovery area. To my safe little cubicle with beeping monitors and friendly faces.

Presently, Dr. McLaughlin came in and asked how I was, then punched a few keys on a multi-coloured keyboard and brought up an image on the flat screen monitor. I listened intently as he spoke softly yet with gentle authority.

One of my heart’s arteries was 99% blocked with plaque. I heard 99% and it seemed to echo in my mind for minutes. McLaughlin explained everything. And although not completely unprepared, I managed to ask reasonably intelligent questions. For the record, cholesterol is 80% hereditary, 10% environment and 10% lifestyle.

There are three courses of action; medicinal (pills); PCI (Percutaneous Transluminal Intervention; and, a coronary bypass. Even while we were talking, Jeff Dunlop, the energetic Regional Cardiac Care Coordinator was burning a CD of my images and preparing a package to be overnighted to the Angioplasty group at The Toronto General Hospital.

I was contacted by TGH a few days after the angiogram and was advised that an angioplasty was scheduled for November 12 and would be performed by Dr. Paul Daly. There will be a pre-op consult November 6. Things continue to move forward in an expeditious manner.

So there we have it. No symptoms, no obvious warning signs and more than likely, within a few weeks I will be in Toronto having the problem fixed – one way or another.

So, the maligned system can and does work. For me, at any rate. Jobs for the boys? Perhaps, but to everyone at PRHC – my thanks. Especially Melanie, my lead nurse. To Dr. McLaughlin and Mackenzie – sincere thanks and gratitude. To Dr. Carolyn Brown; I will never be as skeptical again about the medical profession. Your professionalism, doggedness and diligence led to my heart problem being discovered.

For that, I will always be grateful.