Saturday, 16 August 2008

The Sleeping Beauty Syndrome


In this tale, there were no princes to rescue me.
One fingerprick can change a lifetime


I have been a little reluctant in discussing the Medical Protection Society. I have tried my best over the years to keep quiet about them. The problem with me though is that I hold a deep seated resentment against my defence union. I don't hate them or dislike them but the domino effect on my life was due to the ineffective manner they managed this situation. That is because they failed me. I say this quite frankly because I know they haven't got the guts to sue me in libel. They know they failed me.

I look back to 10 years ago and picture myself in a state calling them repeatedly. It was almost as if I was a beggar, someone sinking in 1998 and trying desperately to hold onto my defence union to robustly defend me. The MPS did not protect me, it would pave the way to the revolving domino effects that scarred my entire time in medicine. It is because of the catastrophic failure by my defence union that I sought to rely on myself for everything. That is the reason I never rely on anyone else.

I think back to 1998, I was soft, naive, very softly spoken and I didn't have the brash attitude that I have now. I believed in my defence union. This is what every doctor believes. They believe that they pay their defence union subscriptions for protection. Unknown to me, I paid my defence union for them to encourage the enforced sinking mechanism commenced by the Trust. Perhaps it isn't politically correct to write about the MPS given they are still dealing with the issues from 1998.

I should take the audience back to 1998 and describe briefly what my defence union did. They should know that I am a product of their failure in proper and robust representation. I was allocated a case worker called Dr Stephanie Bown. Stephanie wears good suits and raises her nose to the morning air. She has a posh accent and rotates in the sphere of decadence. Stephanie was also sued, not by me but by someone else. I trusted Stephanie. I did everything Stephanie told me to do. Indeed, she hired me a lawyer called James Lawson from Radcliffes Le Brasseur. Radcliffes then had the silly name of " Le Brasseur Tickle". James Lawson was good looking but was ineffective. He was ineffective because the wrong allegations made against me still remain on my files 10 years later.

James Lawson denied all responsibility. Essentially, my employment was a mess and the James Lawson was advising me on the issue of the infamous " needlestick injury". In summary, I had been accused of illegally disposing a needle into a bin. I call this issue the Sleeping Beauty effect. A cleaner had pricked her finger. I wasn't even present on the ward at the time. Nevertheless, in true herd mentality, I was the only one accused despite the many people who went in and out of the ward. The cleaner was after compensation and everyone knew that. I was that convenient little meek junior doctor who had whistleblown. Wrong time and wrong place. The convenient scapegoat.

Years later, I made a subject access request to the Department of Health. This is what I found was happening behind my back. From the top - we quote from the Department of Health's files on me.

1. 30 November 1998 File Note " It is believed that the Health and Safety Executive Investigations indicated that the sharps had been disposed of by Dr Pal and that they would have prosecuted her had they been able to make a watertight case".

2. Undated File note " Dr Pal makes serious allegations which so far she has failed to back up with precise evidence". ( likely year 2000).

3. Undated File Note " The difficult question is how we make a robust response without appearing to denigrate Dr Pal. To some extent by mounting an investigation we give credence at least temporarily to her claim".

4. 29th March 1999 Briefing Note Health and Safety Executive Ward 87

" The Health and Safety Executive is particularly interested in this kind of event as they are actively seeking to prosecute a doctor as an " example". In most cases, it is not possible to identify the individual who disposed of the sharp but in this case it is believed that it can be directly traced to Dr Pal. I understand from the Health and Safety Executive that Dr Pal has been interviewed with her solicitor under PACE. Her solicitor has made it clear that Dr Pal intends to plead not guilty, should the case proceed. ...... However they did hint that it is their hope that these last minute clarifications would ensure that Dr Pal would be unable to plead not guilty to the charges".

The period between November 1998-February 1999 made me understand how lonely and wicked the world was. Witchdoctor tells us how a second in a person's life can change the future. For me, it did. During that time, I lost all my friends, my job and career hung on by a short thread. That thread was subject to blackmail by my seniors repeatedly. Loneliness at that time was a bit like physical sickness. Friends did not know how to be friends. Family had left me for their holiday in India. There was though one person who remained supportive on the phone. He was a lifeline to me. The only lifeline I had. That goes to show that fake friends often associate with you due to your money, your flamboyant persona or your wit. That year I found out that the majority of my friends were fake. It was during that time that I began to rely on animals for company. My long walks with them gave me a opportunity to make sense of what was happening to me.

The sickness of fear plagued me. I did not know what to do and I wasn't wise enough to follow the right path because there was no right path. While being thrown into a GP surgery to "protect me", I was subject to their backstabbing because they didn't know the truth. Following the problems in November 1998, the postgraduate tutor had dragged me back from my resignation and placed me in General Practise. I trusted Dr Alywn Ralphs. At the time he was all I had in the profession. I admired Alwyn, I thought he would help me. I thought he believed me and I confided in him. I thought many things about Alwyn Ralphs at Wolstanton Medical Centre. In fact, I thought the world of him.

In 1999, I wrote
"The issue of PRHO protection and vulnerability is an important one . I survived in a sinking ship because I was lucky to have a mentor Dr Alwyn Ralphs , a general practitioner who I was placed with at the twelfth hour who taught me many things that hospital medicine could not , one of which is to have the courage of my convictions . Many would have deserted , taken the first plane out and others would not have survived . these are the target individuals one needs to protect as there are many potentially good doctors who simply are forced to flee"
At the time, I was finding things hard. I was finding travels to the Medical Protection Society in London, the lack of responses from the BMA and my repeated rejections for surgery jobs hard. I relied and opened up to the GP who was supposed to protect me.

Two years later, I had found that Alwyn Ralphs was just like all of them. I found his snide document in the West Midlands Deanery where he accused me of " drinking heavily" one night. I don't even damned well drink and I had no money to buy alcohol so where the hell did he get that allegation from. It is an insult to accuse someone who comes from a Hindu background of drinking heavily. I dislike alcohol, period. He also reported my apparent non attendance when he knew I was compelled to visit the Medical Protection Society, I had meetings with Prof Brenton in London etc [leaves which he agreed to]. His report on me was grossly unfair but again he could not say I was a bad doctor. In fact, he never did. Alwyn Ralphs was in close touch with head honcho Postgraduate Tutor Colin Campbell. Alwyn, I believe, began to question my integrity for no apparent reason in correspondence to Colin. So, to my face he was kind, supportive and attempted to engage me into trusting him. Behind me, he was happily judging me and writing material that suited the Trust. I never know why people do this. Is it a distinct lack of humanity or is it just that they want to win their points?

These lying allegations ended up in a document at the West Midlands Deanery and then filtered to Professor Rod Griffiths at the General Medical Council. This just goes to show that they can make one false allegation and it sticks against you for all of eternity. I later wrote to the GP partner asking for removal of these allegations. They ignored me. Alwyn Ralphs had been paid handsomely for his so called fake efforts with me. He had also charged books that were never used for me to the Deanery. The invoice came in the deanery files. The man I had trusted was actually as dark as all the people I had tried to get away from. I wrote to Alwyn and asked him
"why" and "why" he had betrayed our friendship and my trust. He never had a answer for me - just like each and every one of them.

The Medical Protection Society were right in the middle of all this. I was due to attend a Health and Safety Executive questioning. People have no idea how serious this was. This was questioning under PACE. If found guilty, there is a fine or imprisonment. Moreover, if found guilty, it would have a direct impact on my GMC registration. This is questioning by them under caution. It is much the same as the powers that the police has. The weight of their evidence was this - a nurse had heard me admitting the issue to her. That specific nurse was oncall during the period of the needlestick injury. Hers was another lie of course. A lie followed by a string of people. Later, documents I got out of the Health and Safety Executive indicated that each and every person related to Ward 87 and those in the Trust who didn't even know me had given evidence against me. There was no physical evidence that I was the culprit. No one would say they had seen me place the needle there [ because I didn't] but they made up the tale that I admitted to disposing the needle in that way. Has anyone heard such bullshit in their entire lives?

The Health and Safety Executive internal documents stated

"Patient records do not detail when/by whom venflons were inserted, ward records do not enable confirmation of medical staff attending ward on a particular occasion".
So essentially, the entire management had scapegoated me and the Health and Safety had no evidence. Anyway, the interview was due. Dr Stephanie Bown had told me that I should conceal the whistleblowing evidence. I had evidence and medical records that patients were being neglected. Bown decided that we should not rock the boat anywhere. Bown decided that this was a dangerous situation and a defence of " scapegoating" wasn't going to wash. I had thought about this as the hearing due nearer. In the end, I decided I didn't trust anyone. I started to wonder why Bown did not report the matter to the Department of Health or the GMC herself. Of course, she didn't.

I was sitting up watching Prisoner Cell Block H the night before. Sad people like me did that after midnight. I liked that Australian soap because it reminded me of the way I was considered a criminal and the fact I lived in an imprisonment called medicine. This particular episode had one of the ladies conceal evidence for the court. This was the night before the questioning. I grabbed the whistleblowing papers, copied it through my printer, concealed it in a Winnie the Pooh folder. This secretive method of concealment was going to be used at the questioning. I had decided that I would take the whistleblowing documents into the hearing and defend myself. I had to do it without them being recognisable to the lawyer. Stephanie Bown and Lawson had instructed me not to take any documentation with me. In short, I had finally decided not to obey Stephanie Bown or James Lawson. I had decided to take my own case in my own hands. I had figured out what all this was about. It was about extracting an admission to the crime because no one had any evidence to pin it on me.

The morning of questioning came, I felt profoundly sick. I made my way to the train station at Stoke on Trent to collect James Lawson. In true form, James was late. This is what lazy solicitors are like. My winnie the pooh folder containing the evidence was placed in a Tesco bag. James said " you been shopping"?. I didn't respond. I didn't tell him what I had in the Tesco bag. Disguising the evidence was important. It was also important that James did not know what I had planned. James was not going to know what my plan was until it was too late. To James, I had been to the local Tesco and got myself a Winnie the Pooh folder. I let him think that. There is an art to distracting a lawyer by the appearance of frivolity.

The Health and Safety Executive building was tall and dark. The lift was small. James' aftershave wafted everywhere. If he paid more attention to detail than his expensive aftershave, I wouldn't have even had to be interviewed under caution. He could have stopped this in it's tracks but he didn't. Essentially, the Executive did not have enough evidence for anything. This was a wild goose chase. While travelling up the lift, I recalled the conversation with Dr Colin Campbell, Postgraduate Tutor. The snide toad had told me in is office " You can tell me if you did it Rita, go on admit it". Even Campbell had tried his best to extract an admission so that they could fullfill their aim. He and the rest of those who were supposed to support me had tried to make me plead guilty. His words echoed in my ears as the anger swelled up in me. Anger is a good emotion to fight with. It is a good emotion for the weak. I was weak at the time. I was tame, weak and shy. There were no time for tears. I knew that. It was now time to kick ass and fight.

I entered the room to face two very stern and rough men. Lawson sat next to me and did relatively little to defend me or my rights. The matter was tape recorded. The room had little air. The light within it was bright and the small window at the top of the room signified that there was no escape and this was finally what medicine had come to. This was what all the work I did came to. It came to being questioned like a criminal. This was interrogation to the highest degree. I had never been in trouble with the law prior to this. I had never felt my heart break. I did on that day. I had no one next to me, just a lawyer who was paid heavily and one that did not care about me. He did care about his pay check. The three hours I was there being grilled by these two people under caution was to make me understand that you are born alone and you die alone. I was grilled, questioned, undermined, they tried to extract more admissions but I didn't break. I kept to the truth. If part of me died, it died in there. The only person that cared whether I lived or died during that time was me. I was later to relive this memory time after time, through dreams and nightmares. The small window at the top of the room reminded me of how trapped I was in more ways than one.

Time flew past and the clock on the wall turned. I knew my theory, I had my evidence and I had decided I was going to show them both that I was good at my job. One thing no one was going to ever say about me was that I was a bad doctor - that is because I pride myself in a high standard of work and always had. My innocence had clearly persuaded the men by the end of the interview. The sweat poured down my wonderbra. My skirt was soaking wet. My tights stuck to my skin. This was the sweat of fear. Fear that I couldn't show but I could feel. It was the terror I had never felt before. I was crippled with this fear and the shock of being threatened and questioned in this way, as if I was a criminal.

My lawyer sat next to me much like a statue. One of the men asked me " Why did I think this was happening to me".

I smirked and told myself " This is the time, hit it to them Rita".

The Tesco bag came out with the phrase " Every Little Helps" and indeed on that day these pieces of documentation were to save me. They were everything I could have grabbed in the short time I was at the hospital.

I got my Winnie the Pooh folder out, threw the folder on the floor, got the documents out, got the entire evidence out and placed it on the desk with a thud.

" There you go", I said.

"That is the reason I am being scapegoated".

I told the men everything from beginning to end. James Lawson tried to stop me. Of course, he tried to stop me, isn't that what all lawyers do? I ignored him and carried on. The men wanted more detail so I blurted out every little bit of detail I knew about. I spoke like I had never spoken before. It was as if someone wanted to finally hear my story. They heard my story and they listened to me and I am thankful to them for that.

Sadly, this side of the conversation had not been recorded.

Finally, it was over. They let me go.

I walked to the lift with James. One of the men got in the lift and told me " Don't worry Rita, we will put our hats on and find out who did this to you". It was at that time, I knew they believed me and that they would drop the investigation.

I didn't meet James Lawson after that. I was extremely annoyed with him. I was annoyed with the entire situation. After the meeting, I sat in the toilet for hours and cried. Everything for me happens in the toilets. I don't know what this is. It is a private place where I can cry and no one will see it. I believe it was 3 hours in the toilet before I managed to drag myself out and change my sweat ridden clothes. Thankgod for Sure! It certainly gave me what the advert promised. That day, I purchased myself some fish and chips and headed off to the remote spot at the top of Stoke on Trent. I watched the lights over the city and played Ella. I had finally grown up. I had finally toughened up. Fish and chips always tastes great at times of strife. There were still things to live for - simpler things.

A few months later, the Health and Safety Executive wrote to me saying they had dropped the investigation but they would be sending an advice slip to my employers. The most worrying part of the letter was their statement that they had enough evidence to prosecute but they wouldn't be doing so. This kind of defeats the object of the Health an Safety Executive. It also contradicts what was said in their internal documentation which effectively outlined how they did not have any evidence to prosecute to a criminal standard. This worried me greatly. I felt there would be a domino effect into my future where I would always remain a " suspect". As time moved on from 1998, I was to be proved right. I wrote to James Lawson and asked him to help. He didn't of course.

The Health and Safety top Executives had colluded with the Department of Health and North Staffordshire NHS Trust. They had by their own admission [ found in the Department of Health documentation]
"The Health and Safety Executive is particularly interested in this kind of event as they are actively seeking to prosecute a doctor as an " example".
In the years to come, North Staffordshire NHS Trust were to be caught red handed spreading inaccurate rumours about me in writing. They wrote to various people saying that they felt I was the culprit but they did not have enough evidence. Everyone should note that they had so much evidence that they did not instigate a disciplinary procedure against me. Documents went to the Department of Health penned by Dr Keith Prowse. Prowse had many degrees but lacked the skill to understand the difference between innocence and guilt. North Staffordshire NHS Trust had a party with miles of popcorn blaming me for an event that was effectively the fault of their incompetent nurses. While they dragged me through this cesspit no one was held accountable. They all lived their pleasant little pathetic lives.

James Lawson is probably a rich fat lawyer somewhere neglecting his clients and having summer holidays in the South of France. Stephanie Bown is still employed by the MPS and hob nobs with the rich and famous. The MPS probably regret the above events because I remind them of it by one thing or another. They probably even regret lying to me about the fact they could not provide employment advice. I sprewed out a case called Skidmore, a surgeon on the MPS's committee who was represented all the way to the House of Lords.

Health and Safety Executive Finally Clears me
in 2006 after I approach them with the evidence
obtained from the Department of Health

Of course, as the years moved forward and my knowledge grew, I discovered something could be done. I threatened the Health and Safety Executive with libel action and they backed down to produce a document citing that I should not be considered guilty. It was rather entertaining to see the Health and Safety Executive squirm. They told me they had destroyed all documentation but then said documentation could not be disclosed :). In any event, they agreed to completely clear me. Of course, our friend James Lawson could have done this couldn't he? Instead he told me that nothing could be done [ see letter below]. Of course, as everyone can see, something was done - and it was done by me after reading the law books. Yes, the MPS can be laughed at with a great big pointed finger. Actually, the MPS acted on Lawson's advice so we ought to simply laugh loudly at James Lawson. Great looks, shame about the gutless quality of legal advice.

The Fool Hired by the Medical Protection Society (1998-1999)

Of course, in the end, I had to do it all. In 1999, I didn't know about the Data Protection Act or the rights to correct information. I didn't know about defamation law. We all rely on lawyers to tell us what our rights are. Yes, like every doctor, I assumed that we pay our defence unions to defend us. As everyone can see, the MPS have done a spectacularly catastrophic job of protecting my rights. They can blame themselves for what has happened since then.

As the allegations have hit various authorities, no one cared about the truth or falsity of the allegation. It became much like chinese whispers and the story enlarged and enhanced with more icing. Dr Sheila Mann at the GMC for instance did not wish to concern herself with facts of the case and certainly didn't care when the matter reached her. The allegations roamed freely through the Department of Health and the General Medical Council. A few years ago, the Department of Health repeated these allegations again in Professor Griffith's defence. This year, the Department of Health denied permission to delete the accusations. The same permission to delete these allegations has been denied by North Staffordshire NHS Trust.

So, when people talk of the post Shipman changes, they should remember this case. The system says that an inccurate allegation against me should be held in the files 10 years after the event. I should remain a suspect despite being cleared. So, this tale isn't about me not coming to terms with what happened. It is an example of why the post Shipman changes in the NHS will not work. It is a lesson for all doctors who have accepted the post Shipman changes with open arms. The legacy is that the data base created for doctors will hold inaccurate and false allegations against doctors for the term of their natural life. It will hold this 1998 allegation forever. It is also an example of the fact that I have tried every avenue to clear myself properly and each avenue has failed. The MPS pay me lip service but have no real solutions for the problem. They won't have any real solutions for other doctors as well. That is the message they are sending out to the entire medical profession unless their lawyers can come up with a solution. Of course, I am not a Tushar Bhadra who practically begs them for representation on a daily basis. I have grown up. I have a plan and can execute it effectively if I wish.

As the years go by, no one cares about this issue but me. The past becomes blurred, people forget, people assume that I cannot move on but the truth is that I never accepted what happened to me. I never accepted being well and trully stitched up by some very powerful people. I don't like being a scapegoat and in the end the only sort of accountability remains clearing your name publicly by yourself. In the end, that is the only person to rely on - because self help is the best help. Over the years, I watch doctor after doctor depend on their defence union. I watch them take a laid back approach then I watch their defence unions fail them miserably. I watch them sink. This is the nature of doctors - all expect a hero to solve their problems. During life in medicine, there are no heroes, there is no kindness, if you want something done, you have to get your act together and do it yourself. That is the best lesson anyone can learn in their lives. The sooner doctors can come to terms with it, the better it is.

And that is the legacy of the Sleeping Beauty Syndrome. One prick by a needle to a cleaner can cause so many domino effects. A lady who sought compensation through her trade union and one doctor whose name is now slandered forever. The doctor is called a scapegoat. The cleaner is now happily living somewhere in Stoke on Trent. Her name is Mrs K Davies. She had nothing to say on the matter of course because all compensation seekers have nothing to say. In the end, it was Sleeping Beauty that lived happily ever after showing all of us that it is better to be a cleaner than a doctor any day.

Related Links

Witchdoctor says I am back from the wilderness. This return is all witchdoctor's fault. The buck must stop with her and Jobbing Doctor. Witchdoctor has not agreed to provide me with a date with her black cat as yet. Jobbing Doctor is deliciously married but boy can he write. Every girl requires a view. Can't live in the wilderness/desert without admirable men. Sorry! Ultimately, they both know my weakness. I can though admire from afar as Focal Spot has deserted me.

Yes, the Butterfly Effect happened very early.




2 comments:

Dr Liz Miller said...

""However they did hint that it is their hope that these last minute clarifications would ensure that Dr Pal would be unable to plead not guilty to the charges""


Stephen King should to write about the horror of our public institutions.

What kind of a country is this, where people are so frightened of the truth? The kind that makes China look democratic.

Anonymous said...

This mess is the fault of the MPS. They mess up all the time in these situations and sell the junior doctor down the river in favour of supporting the senior whom they hob nob with.

They are a truly wicked and perverse organisation that are worse than the GMC. At least you know the GMC stabs you in the front- that is their function but the MPS- a knife in your back whilst smiling at you face every time.

Rita please expose more of these stories otherwise no one will ever have any justice throught the MPS.