Say His Name
INTRODUCTION
This is a true story, an extract from an open letter to Dr Myles Brown of the Royal Canadian College of Medicine. In it, the writer detailed his experiences of racial abuse as an immigrant doctor. His letter got such an overwhelming response in light of the 2020 “Black Lives Matter” saga that it had to be taken down from the college website. All names in this write up have been changed to protect the players. Some dramatization was also added to enhance the flow of the narrative. Enjoy … 😎👌🙌🙌
Dr Bolaji Abatan had been trained in his country of origin but later chose to do his PhD in the University of Saskatchewan, Canada. He had also spent time as a lecturer in the same university before applying to do his residency. This would afford him the opportunity to specialise in his chosen field of surgery. A residency could take between 2 to 7 years to complete. Surgery was the love of his life, second only to his beautiful wife, Dr Kemi Abatan.
Things didn’t get off to a good start. Dr Bolaji got the shock of his life on the first day of his residency. It could only be termed as emotional abuse and would continue through the years until the completion of his training. In that first week, he met Dr Tim Paine, the Staff Surgeon assigned to work with him and to mentor him. Staff Surgeons are experienced consultants, responsible for the teaching and training of residents. They sort of take them under their wings for the period they are assigned to be together. A Resident Doctor (like Bolaji) cannot make much progress without the Staff Surgeon. That first day, while the introductions were going on, Tim expressed his displeasure of having Bolaji as his resident. He made it clear that he was unwilling to work with him and advised that he simply read the Bates Textbook. By reading this, he could teach himself the theory of patient/doctor consultations. Tim would be spared the agony of having to work with a black man.
As the days went by, it seemed like a dark cloud had gathered over Bolaji. He was made to feel like the class dummy whenever he asked any questions during the calls. Asking questions was such a vital part of residency training and it ensured safety in practice. The other doctors took pleasure at taking digs at him for no reason. The snide remarks and “below the radar” insults were all done in “humour”. A sick humour that left one man silently crying. He just couldn’t seem to do anything right and was beginning to have sleepless nights. Hi mental health was getting more compromised with frequent panic attacks.
In the midst of this, another intrigue was secretly being plotted. He was specially handpicked to do a rotation. He would be the first General Surgery Resident made to do a General Internal Medicine rotation. This was completely unnecessary and a deliberate waste of his time. His chosen line of speciality was surgery and his residency was based on surgery. There was absolutely no need to have made him do this rotation in the field of Internal Medicine. It had been suggested that his knowledge of medicine was poor. The Programme Director therefore repeatedly wrote letters to the various “rotations” urging them to fail him. He complained that Bolaji’s standard of English was not adequate. To everyone’s amazement he passed with flying colours. The congratulatory message he got from the programme director was “we expected Regina to be your grave and I’m surprised you passed. It seems Regina was too easy. It will have to be somewhere else next time.” (Regina was the town he did the rotation).
By the end of his second year in residency, he was advised to quit because he was too smart for Surgery. I personally find it rather bizarre that he was considered too smart for surgery but too dull for medicine! Why would a person be penalised for being too smart? Bolaji was to later report that it had been decided that he would not be allowed to pass no matter how hard he worked. A staff member told him about their intent to ensure that he failed and if they didn’t succeed at that, then they would make sure he never got a job.
It was about this time that Bolaji lost his mother. None of his colleagues offered any condolences nor commiserated with him. There were no cards nor flowers sent. The only people that sympathised with him were the nurses in the surgery ward. Due to the immense pressure he was under, his blood pressure developed into an intracranial bleed (in the brain). His team saw it as an opportunity to get rid of him. The Programme Director and his Neurologist wrote a damning letter to the School Board about his condition suggesting his incapacity. Dr Bolaji didn’t know about the letter. He didn’t know about the scheming going on in the background to destroy his career. This only came to light much later after Dr Alperton withdrew the letter from circulation. This was one of the few people that ever showed him any kindness. It was the singular reason he was able to complete his residency.
Incredibly, year four appeared to start on a brighter note. For the first time he was assigned a female Surgical Oncologist. Bolaji dared to hope! Maybe it would be fourth time lucky. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Dr Lisa Pepper turned out to be just like the others, living up to her name. She basically ignored him completely during her training period with him. There were never any pleasantries, with good mornings going unanswered. Asking questions relating to his training only got him into trouble. Studying hard became his coping mechanism. There was no room for error. He needed to prove himself and not give anyone the chance to “get” him.
Dr Bolaji also talked about an experience that would forever be etched on his mind. An experience that can only be termed as physical abuse. It happened in an operating theatre during an anterior resection procedure (an abdominal operation). It was such a bizarre incident that had left Bolaji confused. He was “accidentally” struck repeatedly by his colleague with a headlight during the operation. This scenario might need a little bit of explaining.
Usually, during a procedure, the doctors would wear headlights to help illuminate the target area. These lights were worn across the forehead with the torch protruding. The surgeon beside Bolaji kept on “accidentally” thumping him hard with this equipment. In one instance, the impact sent his glasses flying off his face. Fortunately, the anaesthesiologist in the room caught them mid-air. There was no apology nor acknowledgement for all the accidents. When he eventually enquired why, he was told that “the father of the house takes the best seat and holds the remote control.” At the end of the procedure, the staff surgeon gave him seven reasons why he would never pass the Royal College Exam.
His experience is not unique. It is the sad reality of most black and minority medical students/resident doctors in that part of Canada. The only difference with Bolaji and his wife (a Paediatric Doctor) was that they persevered to the end. They completed their trainings and became fellows of the Royal College of Medicine. Despite all his achievements, he is still unable to get a job with the university of his training. He is a proud owner of three patents, several published research papers, a Clinical Researcher, an Inventor with Brisk Innovations and a Hepatobiliary and Advanced General Surgeon. With the George Floyd incidence in America, he finally got a response to his letter in June 2020.
Dr Bolaji Obatan, MD, PhD, FRCSC, Member of the AHNS.
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