The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.

So when does a doctor wake up professionally dead? I would say - on the day they whistleblow. It is important to grasp that concept sooner rather than later. It probably took me about a week to understand the concept that the day I raised the concern about a lack of equipment was effectively professional suicide.  In retrospect, it should have been sooner [ie before I whistleblew] and would have been, had it not been for PR machine of the Bristol Inquiry. 

I resigned from North Staffordshire NHS Trust and walked out of medicine in 1998.  The famous bleep throwing scene and the shocked look on the manager's face was a sight to be seen. It gave me some satisfaction and empowerment to just not give a damn anymore. It was a very famous resignation because no one had done it quite like that in the past. 

John Gregan, my SHO who held my hand through all the scary cardiac arrests had come over to tell me that I needed to keep the evidence and when it was time, I needed to expose it. John was probably the only one to lend a kind hand. He sat their in my empty room and we small talked while I started to explain that I hadn't gone mad, I was quite rational, I made a decision to raise concerns and now I knew it was all over. John wittered about the fact I should never have been placed in this position blah blah. What could John do? Nothing really apart from say nice things. But nice things were not enough anymore. I would miss John but even my emotions there were completely blunted. John tried his best - John always looked out for me much like his pet hamster. He would feed me at the canteen, hold my hand, lend me his Oxford Handbook etc etc. He always felt he had to look after me - and on this day he didn't know what to say because he couldn't take care of me anymore. I was on my own - I had grown up and I had to take care of myself.

All I wanted to do was leave. I really just wanted to go back into the normal world . I didn't have to put up with the sick surgeons in the house who left their mess everywhere. I didn't have to put up with their poor quality shagging against my front door with some nurse while I was trying to get 4 hours kip before the next oncall. I didn't have to put up with their rubbish late night parties. I didn't really have to put up with the oddball doctors who just drank, smoked, shagged and didn't really give a flying F** about their patients. Tomorrow was going to be another day away from these psychopaths. [The good thing for the public to know is that these people are probably consultants now]. I needed normality not crazy doctors and managers who didn't know the difference between right and wrong.

It was a fantastic day. The car was packed, the music rang out and my sunroof was open to the bright sun.  My last journey to the 24 hour Esso who had supplied my oncall food yielded chocolate. Tomorrow was going to be a better day. All I had to do was drive down the M6 and make it home - away from these people and everything would be alright.

The problem was this - it was a situation of a devil and the deep blue sea. Either I allowed myself to be scapegoated or I walked out. While I made the wisest decision in 1998, my family and my postgraduate tutor had other ideas. I was apparently too young, too impulsive etc. So I listed to those older than me. 

I trusted people, I returned to medicine a month later because they told me that I would be supported and I wanted to believe that things had changed following the Bristol Inquiry. While, the medical population was out in its droves crowing about how matters will improve, the other half was out attempting to shoot me in Stoke on Trent.

Of course, it is wise not to trust a postgraduate tutor presenting false promises on a golden platter. For Colin Campbell [ who still resides in his post], it was merely a method of "containing me" disguised as "saving my career". I never understood this but all good knowledge comes with age. The sniveling tutor had tried to persuade me to plead guilty for something I didn't do. I know why now - it would have got them all out of a tight spot and they would have neatly packaged me to be slaughtered by the GMC. Of course, this neat package wasn't happening so easily for Campbell. I understood soon enough what he was about. One must never think that Campbell was the only postgraduate tutor to behave in this manner. They all do. Its the establishments way. At the time, he wrote to John Green regarding the problems faced and how inconvenient my whistleblowing was.  Apparently, it had all come at a "awkward" time. Yes we know, it was during the application for the Hospital's University status. No doubt, North Staffs wanted to breed more psychopaths by growing them in plant pots.

As the years have gone by, you always feel that someone somewhere will be different ie someone will see Rita Pal and not Rita Pal with the Whistleblower tag. Of course, I skulked around much like a fugitive and as a locum in the NHS for many years. Before the Shipman Inquiry changes of repeated checks on doctors, it was easy to moonlight without people knowing who you were. It was hard for the establishment to keep track of me. The memos at the GMC cited that they had been searching for my work place in the year 2000. The establishment believed all the rumours circulating about me - that I had left for law, that I had left for the US, that I had left medicine. These were all convenience smoke screens of circumstance. I merely stayed silent while rumours circulated. It was an advantage for me for no one to know where I was and who I was working for.

So yes, I existed much like a person at the edge of a cliff. Of course, this kind of existence isn't living. It is a tolerating a situation to pay student debts, to pay for family, to pay for bills etc. Yes, even whistleblowers have responsibilities. The secret of who you are has to be concealed from all those who you associate with within the NHS.

So when the end finally arrived, it didn't surprise me at all. 1998-2007 wasn't such a bad survival time for a whistleblower. I have always been a realist and to some extent arrogant. I have never moped over the so called "loss of a career". In my view, the NHS lost a good doctor. That was their loss. As always I have managed to survive in someway or some form. Where there is a will there is a way. What was I going to do - cry about it like every other doctor who loses their livelihood. Sure, it was a little disappointing but what was I to expect - whistleblowers always wake up dead professionally. It was inevitable. The mobbing that commenced in North Staffordshire continued through medicine and finally to the GMC.

So, I was right in 1998 about my decision to resign. It was a bit like the ancient tale - if I looked back I would turn to stone.   It is simply that I had to tolerate a decade of abuse because I listened to the "Wise Men" of medicine and looked back. Of course, as time floats on, you discover, they aren't wise at all. They have lost their way much like everyone else  who leads the medical fraternity. They were actually intellectually corrupt and I was their conscience.

When you fight back against whatever is thrown at you, you become a trouble maker.  I have never had any intention of sitting around while people decided to do their "leper" treatment. I honestly think that people expect whistleblowers to just sit there and moan that their lives have been ruined or destroyed so that the establishment can make an example of all of us to the outside world - " That is what you become if you are a tell tale tit". I took a different approach, " You do this to a whistleblower, you get splashed on the internet" so no one forgets. It was quite a simple harmless policy to ensure some managers and senior doctors think twice about the next whistleblower they want to scapegoat.

In the meantime, most whistleblowers will find themselves in the situation I did - a choice between the devil or the deep blue sea. Of course, I opted for the deep blue sea. Less prospect of getting pricked by  multiple tridents.  The simpler option is never to get into that position in the first place and to walk out. My one regret was returning back in 1998 and believing various people who made many promises.  There are benefits to preserving your innocence and avoiding cynicism. The world is a brighter and more sparkling place. There are advantages to a jaded view and vast amounts of experience but its so much nicer to look through a Smirnoff bottle without second or third thoughts.