Conversations with Students

My 1981 Christmas card, drawn by son, Craig

I once listed a few of the conversations with students and came across it years later. Some of them are kind of funny but often were a window into the worries and concerns of this age group. Some were living away from home for the first time and didn’t know who to talk to about their worries.Twice a year two or three of us- Archie Johnson, Dr. ken Nickerson a gynaecologist and I ,by invitation, would go for an informal meeting in one of the women’s residences. Usually it was standing room only with a hundred or more girls stacked into the room. There was giggling and some joking around on their part but there was a basic hunger for all sorts of information about themselves and their bodies. Afterward the three of us would adjourn to the Faculty next Club for a well earned drink. I don’t know about the girls but I think that we learned a lot!

So here are excerpts of some of the conversations with students over half a century ago.

• You’ve got WHAT in your beard ??

• No, the scar won’t show- at least it shouldn’t !

• No, I don’t think that a shot of penicillin will help your piles (tiredness) (brittle nails) (runny nose) (dandruff) ( poor appetite)

• Yes I know that you broke your little toe in 1956 but I still can’t give you a medical parking permit near the rugby pavilion.

• has your mind ever gone blank before...no, I mean besides after the engineers ball.

• No I’m afraid that I don’t have pills that only work on weekends. ( the morning after pill came along later)

• No I don’t think a brain X-ray will improve your marks

• Oh I see, it’s a sort of funny feeling in your whatchamacallit

• You were cracking WHAT with your cast ??

• No, there’s no way I can tell whether you drank your contact lenses

• Your blood tests are normal. Yes, I know what your medical student boy friend told you

• No I don’t think that your boy friend will catch it. No, not even if he tries.

• Crawley things you say...

• No you don’t have mono. Have you considered that only four hours sleep may be causing your tiredness ?? Twelve vitamin pills a day are unlikely to help.

• Yes, I’m sure she was swell but we had better check just to be sure....

• No I’m  sorry but I cant tell you what is the matter with him/her. Yes, I realize you are her/his girlfriend/boyfriend/Professor/room mate/old school pal.

• well I suppose we could find out whether the Residence kitchens could provide steaks, rye bread, more rice,yoghurt, vegetarian dishes etc. ( this before they provided some vegetarian and gluten free diets)

• Now  I’m sure that John/Susie/ Billy Joe didn’t mean to hurt your feelings !!

• No, I do t think hormone cream will help your figure. Isn’t  there something designed for women’s underwear that does that job. ( before the implant era)

• Are you sure that your Home Economics book said that ? Your parathyroid glands should be working fine. Show me the statement. No that’s the thyroid gland that they are discussing.

• You don’t look like you are going bald to me. Yes there will be hair on your brush but we normally shed about 80 hairs a day which are replaced in young health people

• Well there is a special clinic near the hospital and they are very good at tracing there people. No I don’t think that you should go looking yourself

• Try more fluids and exercise. No, I agree, not everyone likes prunes.

• No it’s not cancer. It’s just a wart. No it doesn’t mean that your blood is bad.

• I don’t think a Psychiatrist can tell you which one to go steady with....

• Well if it worries you maybe you should tell him/her

• Are you sure that your mother told you that ?

• Well  if he really did have one of those operations, I’m afraid that it must have been a failure

• No that’s not a small mole on the base of you eyelash. It’s a louse. Feeling woozy ? Here lie down for a few minutes. Have any others on the football team had problems ?

• ”But Doctor I cant be pregnant. I’ve never never had sex. I haven’t been more  near a mam”

• And so It went.

The Return of the Wanderers

We landed back on the Coast in late November 1960 and spent Christmas with Joan’s parents Harry and Linda Fisher in Victoria. I had written to Adam Waldie from England and told him of my change  of plans. In my absence he had several part time assistants but recently Don Rix fresh from a training year had joined him so he wasn’t sure if a third person would work. However he had just signed a contract with UBC to provide three half days a week at the Student Health Service on Campus. Also he was constantly getting requests for short term locums from other practitioners in the area to cover them for illness and holidays as this coverage was hard to come by.

Outside the West 10th office

In the office

So it seemed that there was lots to do so after the holidays I returned to the familiar surroundings in his West 10 h office to work with Drs. Waldie and Rix for the foreseeable future. The office was as frantic as ever. The practice had a large number of UBC staff and faculty families. The was a lot of paediatrics and obstetrics. In addition I was invited to join the newly formed Division of Family Medicine with thirty members at Vancouver General Hospital. This involved meetings and working sessions in the Outpatients. Once a month we were required to work in the Emergency for a full 24 hours. There were no such thing a specialist casualty doctors. They came much later. We were expected to deal with the non specialty cases that presented themselves. Specialty problems were usually diverted directly to the senior Residents on the particular service  and consultants on call. We were left with cases in the General Practice realm where the patient often had no doctor. If they needed admission we were to do it and look after them. This added to the load of our own practices. We were also expected to serve on various hospital committees.

Our prescription pad from the West 10th practice

Joan and I found a small ground floor apartment at 8631 Montcalm Street in Marpole that we could afford. I would leave early to do hospital rounds or scrub in on surgeries followed by a packed office. When Rix left to do a pathology residency Adam and I decided that we would rotate calls and weekends. However we both often worked right through the evenings together to cope with the landslide of patients and often house calls. As on my alleged night  off I would often finish my list and find people in the waiting room without appointments that Adam had told to “just come in”. The tired receptionist would whisper to me “ he wonders if you could see some of them and there are six house calls so could you do two or three on your way home“? Off with the coat. Back to work. Sorry Joan.

The bright spot to this melee was the days that I worked for half days at the UBC clinic It was housed in the Wesbrook building in the centre of the Campus. The atmosphere was friendly with a great caring staff. There was a 24 bed infirmity on the third floor primarily for students but if there was space we could admit private patients there. The outpatients clinic was on the first floor staffed by administrators, stenographers, nurses and an licences practical nurse. My UBC rugby background made the treating of the sports teams a special pleasure and interest.

The Wesbrook Building, home of the UBC Health Service until 1981

The infirmary in the Wesbrook Building.

The Director was a Scot named Ken Young and Frank Hebb was the other full time physician.

The winter clinic was very busy and we were not needed in the summer. The Clinic had a close relationship with the Faculty of Medicine so specialists from the big hospitals came out for weekly teaching and consulting sessions. Dermatology, orthopaedics, psychiatry, plastic surgery, all provided weekly speciality clinics from September until may. I heard later that the funding of this service was as a result of the special interest of Norman McKenzie the UBC President. If so it was funds well spent.

The winter Clinic was extremely busy averaging over one hundred visits per day. However in peak flu years it would swell to over two hundred and later when I went full time we had over three hundred with extra help called in.

After another year with Adam I had to make a decision.  Baby Anne Kathleen arrived healthy in May to great joy and welcoming. We brought her home to our little Marpole apartment where she was such a delight. I would drag in from work and she often would be sitting on her moms knee in the rocker. Later when she heard the door lock click she would start to laugh and say her first word which was “da” as she looked at me coming through the door. A real mood elevator.

Baby Anne

We put our heads together. I considered three options:

1. Continue with Adam in his Wild West practice

2. Start into a Residency for further four years of training toward a specialty

3. Take a salaried position full time eg:  Provincial TB, VD, UBC etc.

I drew three columns on a piece of paper (which I still have- Joan never threw anything out) with these three choices heading the top of each column. We considered all advantages and disadvantages of each choice ie: future prospects, security, income, time off, etc. and chewed each one over. A partnership with Adam as far as I was concerned would gradually result in my burn out and family burn out. I could see this with Adams family. Lots could be said here but I will avoid details. Four years of a grinding series of Residency training demands with shift work and no guarantee of passing steep exams at the end, and establishing a consulting practice moved things ahead almost a decade. Daunting.

A salaried position such as the Clinic at UBC with more regular hours, reliable time off, pension plan, post grad time, etc. Regular income, no overhead, group practice with daily contact with colleagues. Dealing with bright young motivated people and a lot of sports medicine. Above all dinner with the family and reliable quality time at home.

When written out and studied number three began to look better and better. There was a chance of going full time at UBC as Dr Hebb developed a serious health problem and had to retire.  A downer may have been the relatively restricted content of the of the practice without paediatrics and obstetrics with loss of skills and confidence in dealing with these areas.Also there was the relatively modest income but reliable and adequate with regular increments.

While working part time at UBC I was surprised at the amount of significant serious pathology that came through there. Besides the trauma from the sports and from the ski hills frequently I saw the onset of leukemias, early onset inflammatory bowel disease, diabetes and of course acute psychiatric problems such as schizophrenia.

I recall several incidents to illustrate an acute psychiatric situation. One miserable cold November day a student rushed into the clinic to say that there was a completely naked girl standing in the cold rain and wind in a parking lot across the street. One of our nurses, Audrey, who happened to have post graduate training in psychiatry grabbed a blanket and we rushed over to indeed find a pathetic thin girl completely naked shivering and mumbling. She initially resisted the blanket but finally allowed it. As we coaxed her slowly over to the Clinic, I gently asked her why she was doing this and she replied “ I’m a Pisces and we have to keep our skins wet." Quite delusional. Required prolonged hospitalization and treatment of her schizophrenia. This is the age when these symptoms of schizophrenia can surface.

 One other evolving psychosis was in a handsome young nineteen year old whose family I happened to know. He came to see me one day saying that he was concerned that some of his professors could read his mind and he wanted them reported to the police and president.He went on to a full blown paranoid psychosis . Another young man developed the delusion that his male hormone testosterone was destroying his brain so he made several attempts at self castration by putting a tight ligature around his testicles which gave him so much pain that he abandoned it and tried to crush them with a rock!!  More pain.  He asked me if there was some pill or method surgically that would solve his problem.

There was plenty to test diagnostic skills in spite of the attitude of some community physicians that it was a modified first age station. Of course there were lots of sniffles and coughs but there are a lot of those in community practices too.

Subsequent discussions at UBC were encouraging. The entry salary was recognized, at least on paper, to be below the the level from community practice and they were bound by their salary scales for all departments. As a leveller however, as with others in the faculties of medicine and dentistry,I would be allowed to be listed as being employed four fifths time with one fifth permitted outside practice.As it turned out there were sessional half day contracts to medically supervise selected nursing homes which dove tailed with the UBC arrangement. This was certainly an attractive situation as at this employment level at the Clinic I would still be eligible for all of the fringe benefits. The outside practice which would supplement my income would bring the whole package to an attractive level. It also kept me dealing with heart failure and  many complicated medical issues.

In the middle of our deliberations and planning we welcomed with great joy our second daughter baby Alison Joan a beautiful healthy wonderful addition to our family, a sister for Anne. In the interval between babies we recognized that we needed to improve our housing arrangement and Joan began a detailed search of possible housing. She accumulated a scrap book with listings and we travelled around the west side viewing various places and fantasizing. Details are in my previous story. Suffice to say we found a beautiful old colonial place where we lived happily for 57 years. Our little girls had a home.

Alison in the Wiltshire kitchen

 On September 3 rd I started at UBC as a four fifths time physician. Right then our son Craig made his welcome and very happy appearance. A truly wonderful little boy adored by everyone. So we had three under age three. Joan reasoned that if she was going to stay home for one that she might as well complete the desired family group so it came to pass. Busy times with help and support from Joan’s parents, my mother and my sister Jean.

Anne, Craig and Alison: 13 months apart

Work at UBC began with a bang. Besides the students we looked after all campus emergencies. I spent the first hour sewing up a construction Forman’s head after he was hit by a power shovel. No hard hat ! On top of the out patient clinic the Physical Education Faculty required medical review of all of the University rep teams so this required trips around campus. There was extra help brought in for these.

Just before my arrival a new Director was appointed. Dr. Archie Johnson was a specialist in Internal Medicine. He was in private practice for many years at a large poly clinic in downtown Vancouver. Besides some clinic work he provided liaison with the University and downtown hospitals. The Clinic had a part time psychiatrist whose position was very quickly expanded to a full time position and later two Residents in Psychiatry were added from the teaching program. The Clinic had a full time x- ray technician as well as a full time lab technician.Two radiologists visited several times a week to review films. The clinic worked closely with the Counselling centre and there was close liaison with the Deans and heads of various University departments. The Clinic continued to expand to accommodate increasing demand for services especially with the continued increase in the number of students.

Dr. Archie Johnston (right) and his successor, Dr. Robin Percival-Smith

I was fortunate in having the opportunity to spend several months in some big name Ivy League American Universities that had well developed Clinics and Sports Medicine programs.Chief among these were Harvard, Princeton and Yale.I made some great contacts and came back with some good ideas for our clinic.

In the later years our load was somewhat lightened by the formation of the high profile Sports Medicine Clinic and the Family Practice Clinics on Campus. One specialist in Sports Medicine split his time between between our Clinic and theirs so there was good liaison between the two.There was a busy travel and immunization program which was very busy.

The 1960’s were a decade of unrest in Society generally . The Hippy era, LSD, “ free love” and the birth control pill all vibrated through Universities. Burn the brassieres, drench with pungent “musk” oil, bathe infrequently was often the behaviour. The Vietnam war raged as the decade progressed and we became aware of young American students avoiding the draft appearing on Campus where they could find a bed and use facilities including showers in the gyms and relatively cheap meals. Some affiliated with their home fraternities here. We even had them camping on Wreck Beach and in the woods.  Some presented themselves, as university students , to the Clinic for care which we did free of charge.

Some interactions were memorable. One busy day  one of our nurses informed me that there was a very young American couple had presented themselves for help and maybe I should see them next. In the examination room a pale thin girl was laying in fetal position with a anxious pacing young man with a sweater on that read HARVARD in big letters. I introduced myself and tried to initiate a conversation with her .Silence. Suddenly she looked up, glared and screamed “ get out of here you f******g capitalist pig ! “. Not a good start. It turned out that he had received his draft notice and decided to make a run for it. His girlfriend age  17 living with her parents climbed out of her window and took off with him to Canada. She regretted her decision and became withdrawn and complained of feeling unwell. When I went out in the corridor Archie was standing there and I said “ do you know what I am ? I’m a f*******g capitalist pig”

?

He grinned and replied “ Charlie you’re no capitalist”. We managed to sort things out with the help of the counselling service and the American Embassy.

I worked contentedly in the UBC student clinic from 1963 until 1990 and had numerous adventures and interactions with the students. In 1980 the new UBC hospital was completed and we were invited to move our unit into this new facility . We had misgivings as we would lose our little invaluable infirmity . However we were told that we would have first call on twenty beds for priority student admissions. So we sat down and drew sketches of possible floor plans for the allotted space  on the ground floor ideal with the new emergency next door and radiology and lab nearby. We said goodbye to the Wesbrook building which was eagerly sought by microbiology and some research units. All went well. We were the first clinical unit in the hospital. When meeting with the new Director of the hospital he said he had never  heard of protected beds for students.They would be hospitalized in line along with the general public with their same criteria. Our Wesbrook infirmity was wonderful as we could quietly admit students sick in the Residences into this small unit with some motherly care. Severe mononucleosis was good example.This facility was missed.

Putting on a cast

In the first year of our occupancy the new hospital Emergency opened. The problem was that there was a shortage of medical staff to put in it. Casualty offers were still a decade away. So we were asked if we would provide temporary coverage when our Clinic was open. The first morning that they opened their door an elderly man who had fallen in his bathroom and cut his head was brought in for treatment. I assessed him and sutured his laceration- the first sutures inserted in the new hospital !

Staff at the Health Service at the Acute Care Unit, UBC in 1981

I never regretted my choice of careers. The UBC work was busy and rewarding in many ways. I was with my family and near the kids growing up. I was usually home on weekends except for the occasional acute problem or a significantly ill student in the Infirmary to be monitored. Sometimes there were memorable situations. There was an International conference of mathematicians meeting on Campus .President Walter Gage phoned one Sunday and asked me to attend to an ill Russian participant in  one of the university residences.

He was a pathetic sight in bed huddled under a blanket . He spoke no English. Standing on each side of his bed were two big men in suits, one spoke English . Trying to assess the situation was challenging. I would ask a question, the English speaker would then address the patient and then there would be a prolonged exchange between all three in Russian. Then the translator would turn to me, often with a one word answer- usually “Nyet” or no (eg:no pain).

This went on for some time. I couldn’t make head nor tail out of the story. I examined him as best I could and found nothing. The next day I heard that he was on a plane back to Russia and that he had been trying to defect. The two “ attendants” were KGB “ supervisors”. All rumour but plausible.

The hippy era presented us with unique problems.LSD, marijuana, on top the usual alcohol scene created all sorts of challenges. Timothy Leery was the high priest of the drop out culture. The mantra of “ don’t trust anyone over age 30” was reflected in all sorts of behaviours that made the delivery of medical care to them problematic at times.Parents were sometimes confused and directed their anger toward the University and its agencies blaming it for “allowing” the counter culture and behaviours that had enveloped their kids.

The Clinic kept expanding staff and programmes. Psychiatric services evolved with the appointment of a full time consultant, several part time  and two Residents in psychiatry.

It was said that the UBC student health and medical services were the best in Canada at that time and we had visitors from similar facilities to review are set up. During the FLQ crisis I Quebec two young medics from Quebec presented themselves for a tour. Remarkable was that they both were bearded and dressed like Che Gueuvera the Revolutionary. I knew that they both spoke English but only spoke French between themselves in front of us. The revolution on display.

The other memorable Campus visit was from the American counter culture guy Gerry Rubin. We were forewarned and briefed on his techniques for creating general Campus havoc.We were advised that he would invade the Campus in noisy procession and cause a group disturbance similar to a mini riot in front of some building or facility. In our case the target was the Faculty Club at the end of Main Mall.

We had meetings and made counter plans. Rubin’s usual  plan was to get the Police involved by creating a disturbance and then have one of his supporters phone the police reporting a riot .When the police arrived there would be a tussle and hidden containers of chicken blood would be splashed around followed by screams of police brutality.

The planners asked the Police to ignore all riot phone calls except from President Walter Gage. When the riot fizzled they decided to “invade” the Faculty Club which was a private facility. The staff welcomed them in, offered them coffee( the alcohol had been hidden) and invited them for lunch. There was an ornamental pool at the back with large plate glass windows around the big busy lunch room over looking it. One of the counter culture bearded specimens stripped off his clothes and in full display climbed into the pool. The diners ignored him. When he climbed out the manager offered him a towel.

So Rubin and his revolutionaries slunk away off the Campus. No riot. No reaction at all by the community. In spite of the onlooking students participating, many of them laughed at them.  Canadians were so dull. I heard that the revolutionaries went back across the border probably in disgust. There was not a single injury.

I retired from the UBC clinic in 1990 after 30 plus years, part time then “ full” time ( four fifths). I continued with my three nursing home contracts of two sessions a week and filled in occasionally back at the Clinic for illness or holidays.This left me with more time off and in the early 1990’s allowed some limited travel with Joan who was having some health issues.

Britain and Beyond

Graduating with an MD in 1958, interning at Vancouver General Hospital in 1958-59, and completing a Resident year at Shaughnessy Hospital in 1960-61 I entered general practice with Dr. Adam Waldie on  West 10th ave where I stayed for a year. The practice was very busy with a lot of long office hours, obstetrics, surgical assists and house calls.

I had harboured an idea to go into the specialty of Internal Medicine which would require a further four years of residency and a rough set of exams to be become a Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians of Canada (FRCP). The idea was attractive but daunting. Joan and I had married in June 1959 and we were living in a small apartment. She was working as a public health nurse. After a lot of deliberation we decided to spend a year in a completely different location and try and get some perspective on where we were going and what the outside medical world looked like.

Teaching during my post VGH year at Shaughnessy had been rather variable in quantity and quality. There were some excellent focused committed physicians who gave a lot to the Resident group, especially in some of the sub specialities. However there was another group of General Internists, the speciality that I was considering who seemed to be less than motivated by their profession and transmitted this in conversation and teaching. They generally were running marginal private office consulting services and filled in their time by doing paid sessional work at various hospitals and clinics to make ends meet. They were what I would describe as being down in the dumps about their situations. As far as I could tell they were doing a form of General Practice without paediatrics and obstetrics. But lots of Geriatrics and Company medical services. So I have to admit that I was a bit turned off.

So away we went to England. I had arranged through a local dealer to buy a Canadian equipped Morris Minor car to be picked up in Oxford for our use there to be shipped back to B.C. on our return. I was armed with letters of introduction from my professors who had important contacts on the British Isles and were guaranteed to steer me in the right direction for further studies. We visited the Liverpool relatives. Joan’s Uncle Tom Pierce was a retired Liverpool bobby and told me stories of the blitz. Joans Aunt Edith was seriously ill with cancer and died six months later.

One interesting side story about our Liverpool area visit. Joan wanted to get her hair done and “tinted” so after searching around she found a hair dresser in down town Liverpool and made an appointment. Off we went in the Morris through the long Mersey tunnel from the small village of Heswall where we were staying and found the place. I waited in the car and read. Later I looked up and saw a brunette lady walking along who looked vaguely familiar. She got in the car. The tinting job resulted in dark hair rather than the expected blonde. I said nothing!!  Joan’s uncle had suggested that we might enjoy going to hear a band that was creating interest and was playing in a night club called the “Cavern”.  It turned out that it was a few doors from the hair dressers. Neither of us were interested in  “that kind of music."  It was the Beatles. Opportunity missed !!

We went down to London and through the Commonwealth Medical Association, who were very helpful, we moved into a north London second floor “ bed sitter”in a ancient row house in Hornsey on the northern tube line. Our landlord and his wife, the Bishops, were pleasant enough. The room was dark and dank and smelled strongly of curry. The previous occupants were from India. The only heat was from an electric heater with two small glowing elements which at full power distributed heat outwards about two feet. We immediately adopted the practice of wearing our heavy sweaters when there. There was an enormous old cast iron bath tub in a closet sized bathroom. “Hot” water was provided by a coin operated water heating device on the wall above the tub called a geyser- pronounce “geezer” by the Bishops. On inserting a shilling it would rumble and belch and finally produce a tiny stream of lukewarm water which fell into the stone cold bath tub producing a cloud of steam. Cold. Joan took to bathing with her sweater on!

Joan and I flying out of Vancouver to Boston to catch the liner Statendam to Britain

On the deck of the Statendam

Armed with my letter of introduction to Prof McMichael the head honcho of the Hammersmith

Post Graduate Centre I made an appointment and went to see him. He turned out to be an unhelpful grumpy older guy who couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. Not interested in qualifications or letters. Referred me to a program in Edgware Hospital in North London under a Dr. Sowry. Oh well, I registered there and along with a dozen other post grad visiting docs began a series of clinics and classes. The teaching was done mainly by senior registrars - like our fourth year residents. Some were excellent. We had the opportunity, on our own, to attend lectures and demonstrations at other major and famous teaching hospitals in central London like the paediatric centre Great Ormand Street, and Queens Square neurological hospital.

My letter of introduction to Professor Ian Aird from Dr. R.B. Kerr

At Edgware II was the only Canadian. Other students were mainly from India, Ceylon (later Sri

Lanka) and one from Kuwait the recently evolving oil producing nation in the Middle East . He was the son of a Sheik and his family were in the high echelon of the rulers of that country. He qualified there and was sent to London to obtain an MRCP, the Holy Grail degree in Internal Medicine and tough to accomplish if you were from out of the country.  He arrived with a contingent of servants and a house was provided in the classy expensive St. John’s Wood area. His lordly attitude didn’t go down well with the Brits but they felt that they had to accommodate him maybe for political reasons. He would pull up to the front door in a chauffeur driven Bentley and be handed his stethoscope and then stride in like he owned the place. I thought I could hear the collective grinding of teeth from the inside staff.

I found this situation a bit humourus. Understand that the most desired positions for doctors in the National Health Service was to be appointed to a consultant position at a hospital paid a retainer of £ 2000 year, a lot of money in 1960. There was a limited amount of these positions in every area and much sought after. So the hospitals were mainly run by Registrars who had obtained their MRCPs and they were literally waiting for dead man’s shoes. The Consultants  had outside practices at Harley street etc. and dropped into “ their” hospital for rounds once a week.  They rolled up to the front door in their high end cars. The rest of the staff entered by side or back entrances. On rounds to the wards the Consultant led followed a pace behind by the senior Registrar on the right and the head nurse (the Sister) on the left. Strung out behind were the junior Registrars, the medical students, the visiting docs (me) and finally trailing along GP’s from the community by invitation. There was always only one or two of these, usually from Europe. Not much interest. They were ignored.

One of the outpatient clinics that our group sat in on was dermatology conducted by a famous doctor named Professor M who had authored many books. Our group of eight or nine would file in and be seated on hard benches in the waiting room with the patients. On signal we would file in and stand agains the wall while a patient was presented by the Registrar. No chair was provided for the patient unless they were handicapped or feeble. They stood in front of the Great Man like felons in front of the Magistrate for sentencing. There was a procession of very interesting cases from all over the world and we saw some fascinating stuff. Mid-morning we would be ushered back out to the waiting room to the benches while his Majesty, the Registrar and Sister Ogre would be served tea. We then re enter the clinic room as before. Of our group I was not only the only Canadian, I was the only white guy. As the weeks went by I noticed that the group was dwindling steadily. By the last clinic day standing alone as tea time arrived I turned to return to the waiting room. Suddenly the great man called to me and said “ doctor will you join us for tea." I felt as though I had been knighted. We had a pleasant relaxed visit. He said “so doctor, you are from Canada” which I acknowledged.He asked a lot of questions about BC. Then he leaned closer and said “what do you think of those black bastards” referring to my missing group mates. I was completely taken aback. I concluded that the other members of the group had sensed his racism and disdain and dropped out. It went right over my head.  Lesson learned.

So the weeks dragged by.  I came to know one of the dead mans shoes Registrars named

Dr. P waiting endlessly for the coveted NHS consultants post. He was a very pleasant guy in his thirties and expressed a keen interest in B.C. He admitted that he was thinking of emigrating so gave him all the information that I could and he reciprocated on the inside dope on the British training situation. I mentioned that I had seen a list of Residencies in the British Medical Journal for training positions at the top teaching hospitals and wondered if I should apply. He quietly pointed out that those were unofficially taken years in advance within the old boy inner system from the top medical schools there and there would virtually no chance of me receiving one. By law they had to advertise them.  The best I could hope for would be an NHS “dogs body” spot in a peripheral hospital in exchange for casualty officer shifts in their casualty department intermingled with marginal teaching. The system was plugged from young docs from all over the world intent on getting the golden degree with virtually no hope of even being able to qualify to sit the exams. Slow hissing sound as the air leaked out of my aspirational balloon !!

However it was not all bleak. London was fascinating. We spent many weekends in the incredible British Museum.  There were plays and live shows in the Hay Market, Festival Hall. We watched the buskers in Leister Square.The Imperial War Museum was particularly interesting. We met other Commonwealth students and had meals and entertainment in Soho with them. Mr Bishop our landlord was a retired fire captain and arranged a day at the National fire college at Dorking south of London. We used the car to tour all around England and Scotland. The maple leaf emblems on our lapels and car meant that we were well received everywhere once it was established we were not Americans. Stayed at a bed and breakfast in Aberdeen with a Mrs Urquhart who was in Medicine Hat and had a baby in the same hospital at the same time that I was born. She came home to Scotland in 1939 to visit her parents and got caught by the declaration of war and couldn’t get back. What a coincidence.

Joan posing at Stonehenge

In the summer we took off for the Continent in the little car and had a great time. In Paris we stayed in a quaint (read run down)  hotel in Rue Monmartre near the Louvre and a short distance from the Follies. It was said to be a billet for German soldiers during the war. On Saturday mornings before daylight a farmers market set up right on the street where we could buy any sort of produce. By 10 o’clock it was gone. We found a little cafe right around the corner- Le Cafe de Bonne Amis run by Corsicans who spoke no English. I had to communicate with rudimentary French and sign language with lots of hilarity. Joan was too shy to try any French. They took us under their gastronomic wing and in the morning after our croissant and coffee they would ask us what we would like for dinner which usually resulted as the chubby little proprietor would mime a chicken, a goose, a swimming fish etc. dancing around cackling or honking or mooing. It was only 15 years after the war and the vast tourist industry had not hit its pace so maybe we were a novelty from Canada especially. When we left there was a fond good by and he gave us a bottle of his special wine .

Our Corsican restauranteur in Paris. Our Morris Minor is in the background

We took off from Paris and headed south using bed and breakfasts and modestly priced hotels. In Limoges we went to the wonderful world famous China museum which somehow survived the war.  We ended up in the Dordogne valley where then tourists were unknown then. At one village the village, called Paderac I think, the local asked if her class could try out their English on us and it was really fun. There was a small stream running through the village and there were women washing clothes in it  thumping them with rocks. The wine was unbelievable and when I asked if they exported it they looked shocked and  replied that they drank it all!! I didn’t blame them. Same with the cheese. Since it was all local and not pasteurized and considering the frequency of bovine TB and brucellosis I was leery.

We had a wonderful day visiting the prehistoric painted Lasceaux caves only discovered in 1943.  Memorable. Later closed to the public as visitors breath moisture was promoting mould growth starting to destroy paintings. They built an exact replica for the public.

Heading for Italy through the St. Gothard pass in the Dolomites and made our way to Milan. it was very interesting. Unfortunately La Scala opera house was closed for renovations.  Lots of other sights. The Rome Olympics were on and we thought we would stop at Venice on our way to Rome. However we were advised against Rome as being very crowded with no accommodation etc We found out later that this was not true with lots of room .We turned around after visiting Venice and headed north again. Venice was fascinating. We walked to the top of St. Marks which smelled like a giant toilet from people peeing at every turn of the climbing ramps.We watched wonderful band concerts in St. Marks Square. Our Hotel Gorhiza was comfortable enough but later we calculated that baby Anne was started there. So lucky place.

Joan poses at a fountain in Milan

Venice in 1960

There were many other stops back into France and then into Germany where we had the best food and accommodation of the whole trip. In Munich we went to the Reich’s Museum where the displays were exceptional but had no war content. I had read about the famous Hofbrau House the beer garden where Hitler tried his coup in the early 1920s and resulted in jail where he wrote Mein Kampf the Nazi manifesto. It was bombed flat but rebuilt as an exact replica.There was an oompa band with lots of lederhosen and hard looking middle aged guys with empty pant legs and sleeves from the war. The bok beer was served in heavy litre steins with big handles. The servers were huge women who strode around carrying these multiple heavy vessels.  We ordered one each. Big mistake. Joan sipped a little of the nearly black stuff so I enjoyed the atmosphere and eventually downed both. I recall that on leaving I couldn’t get my legs to work very well.

The next day we went to dinner and when the food was put in front of Joan she suddenly jumped up and made a bee line for the ladies room. She was suddenly nauseated. BABY ANNE HAD ANNOUNCED HER PRESENCE.

So through Germany, stops at Vienna, into the Netherlands (lots there).  Joan left a trail of nibbled cream crackers on the road which controlled her nausea fairly well. She didn’t complain but I knew she wasn’t feeling great. So back to London.

Posing in Germany

During the fall in London we had to reconsider our situation. Money was limited so we had to have a source of income which meant my doing an NHS locus in a casualty in the boonies. Joan took herself off to a local outpatients clinic and had an interesting experience. She was processed on registering with a rather surly older nurse who put her in an inner clinic waiting room and told her to take off all her clothes. There were a couple of other completely naked women sitting there.There was no gown provided so she sat with her sweater around her shoulders. In the examining room the doctor motioned her to get up on the table where with a word he examined her and was about to leave. So finally she said “am I?”

"Are you what?" he asked.

"Pregnant" she said.

"Yes" he said and walked out. At the door the nurse handed her a pill box labelled “THE PILL with the instruction “ Take one daily."  It was apparently a mix of iron and ? Vitamins.

Not a very positive experience. Later we found out that deliveries were done at home with a local midwife or in ancient nursing homes. Complications were attended to by a “Flying Squad” that would transport the woman to a local Casualty.

When relating this experience later we were told that the NHS was under increasing pressure from people from other countries who were appearing in Britain and using the Service with the costs to the tax payer. Maybe this was partly the cause for Joan’s reception but we weren’t exactly from a completely foreign country what with Joan’s trace of a Liverpool accent and my Commonwealth origins whose made a major contribution to WWll success. Who knows.

So if we remained in Britain we would be cloistered in a small smelly apartment facing the cold winter with Joan alone while I was working and at the end of her pregnancy in may a delivery set up that we didn’t feel  to good about. No family supports. We made our decision. Home before Christmas. I attended a last eight weeks of teaching clinics and we completed our exploration of London. We experienced Guy Fawkes day and in November were on the plane for home.

                                                 End of Part One