© MMXI V.1.1.0
by Morley Evans
This is a sneak preview of Depraved HYPERCHOLESTEROLMANIA
These instances reveal an incestuous mind-set at the least and a callous disregard for human life (Depraved Indifference) at the worst which is the hallmark of the incompetent bungling doctor caste in Regina. Here psychopaths are defended by idiot legislators, a phalanx of well-funded lawyers and a bamboozled public which is told and believes it is served by “some of the best doctors in the world.” This is what happens when service providers are in complete control and those served have no choice but to deal with them and pay their bills. Doctors all have the same brand. There is no way to tell the good ones from the bad ones, until it's too late, and most victims, or their survivors, absolve their doctor anyway. People prefer comfortable lies to uncomfortable truths. People want to believe there is a Wizard who will solve their problems for them — with no effort on their part. "Just take this pill and you will be all better."
The Hospital Visit:
One afternoon in July 2000, I was lying in a bed in the Regina General Hospital.
I had been slowly coming out of a coma. I did not know how long I had been there. I could open my left eye now and then and look around.
When I turned my head slightly, I could see a window on the right side of the room. Through the window I could see a brick wall capped with Tyndall Stone. Pigeons lined up there and periodically landed and flew off.
When I got tired, or bored, I would close my eye and retreat to a place where it was dark, warm, and safe. Sometimes, I would sleep. Sometimes, I would listen to the nurses.
“Who is that bossy woman who comes here three times a day?”
“That’s his sister.”
One day, I didn’t know what day or time it was or month, I noticed the door on the left side of the room slowly and silently open a crack. Then it closed. A moment later, the door opened a little farther. Then it closed again. Then a moment later, the door opened even farther. A face slowly partially appeared in the opening. The face looked into the room. The face belonged to Dr. John N. Alport. The face pulled back and the door closed.
The pigeons went about their business.
I closed my eye and went back to sleep.
After I had been discharged from the Wascana Rehabilitation Hospital in late August 2000, where I had been recovering from a hemorrhagic stroke, I went to Katepwa Lake with my brother, Bruce. We joined our mother and sister to shut up the cottage for the winter.
On the way back to Regina, taking the road to Indian Head, we passed Alport’s cottage. Bruce spotted some Alports out in the yard, slammed on the brakes, parked and got out of the car to visit with his friends.
“You can wait here if you want,” Bruce said as he dashed off.
I decided not to wait in the car though I was still shaky. I followed Bruce to the Alport’s yard. There Dr. W.E.H. (Bill) Alport, Dr. John N. Alport and Peter Alport (a stock broker) were raking leaves. Bruce and the Alports were already bullshitting each other and having a great time.
The Alports hardly recognized my presence although both Dr. Bill and his son, Dr. John had been my doctors, each for years, and Dr. John certainly knew I had just survived a life threatening medical crisis. (Dr. John had come to see me in the hospital. More about this visit above.) Peter was friendly as was Peter’s dog, a black Newfoundland. Bruce was busy exchanging bullshit with his pals Dr. Bill and Dr. John as if he were one of the insiders.
I began to feel weak, so I sat down on the grass. Bruce offered some sympathy with, “Don’t you feel well?” The doctors didn’t notice. The dog came over to see if I was all right. I thanked her by scratching her ears. We were pals. I was glad to find one friend at the Alports.
After outdoing one another in the bullshit festival, Dr. John told the group how one of his patients had been trying to get some assistance from an insurance company. “I fixed it so he’ll never get a dime,” Dr. John N. Alport remarked with a smirk.
Everyone was highly amused. They had a good laugh. I felt sick. I Just wanted to get away.
After a few more minutes, Bruce decided it was going to be dark soon and we should be on our way. He headed for the car.
As I was slowly getting up, Dr. W.E.H. (Bill) Alport said to me, “It’s nice to meet you.”
I nodded and slowly walked back to the car.
It would be a year before I would discover that Dr. John N. Alport, himself, had been the architect of all of my medical problems since 1992. I could have been the patient he said he fixed with the insurance company. I learned from the claims adjuster at Great West Life in Winnipeg that Alport had told her, “There is nothing wrong with him [me]. It’s all in his head.”
Pasqua Hospital Emergency Room:
In 2005 Mother had been taken to the Pasqua hospital ER and admitted for stroke.
“Good news! You haven’t had a stroke, Venetta,” exclaimed Dr. John N. Alport, M.D. who threw his arms around my mother, who told me about this later. “John was such a nice little boy,” she would always say. “He was so polite.” So was Ted Bundy, Mom.
About my own problem with Dr. John N. Alport, she would say: "John feels terrible about what happened. You don't think John did it on purpose, do you?" Yes, Mom, I think he did it on purpose. "John went to see you when you were in the hospital." Sure, Mom.
My mother had been taken by ambulance from Marian Chateau to the Regina General Hospital because she had had a stroke. The General Hospital was too busy to look at her, so the ambulance was sent to the Pasqua hospital.
Over the years, my mother had been taken to the Emergency Rooms many times for stroke. Sometimes she was told she had had a stoke and sometimes she was told she had not had a stroke. One doctor told us she had never had a stroke and he "would get to the bottom of it." One time we were told that she had had several heart attacks over the years. That came as a surprise. In no case had she received any treatment. They did sometimes prescribe Aspirin. This time, my sister and I were called to come to pick her up.
Mother stayed with us that afternoon and slept at our house that night.
In the morning, while we were having breakfast, Mother had another stroke. My sister called the ambulance. I was too disgusted with doctors to deal with it. "They just sent her home a few hours ago. Why bother sending her back there?" Two fresh-faced kids showed up to take Mother back to the Pasqua Hospital where they decided to keep her overnight "under observation."
When in the morning they observed Mother was still breathing and warm, they decided to transfer her to Elmview Extend-a-Care “expert nursing” for a week of observation.
At Elmview, when they observed Mother was pretty good at faking that she was well, they discharged her to the Wascana Rehabilitation Hospital where she was treated as an outpatient for the stroke no one would admit she had suffered. I took her there every morning.
At the Wascana hospital, I met some of the people who had looked after me when I had suffered my own stroke. In Regina, they do not treat ischemic stroke, but they do treat hemorrhagic stroke. Lucky for me, too bad for Mom. I looked after her for the next year. She was never the same again which made her even more difficult to live with than usual.
Venetta Evans — finished off by the Regina medical system:
Mother lived for several years after her stroke. She lived with us for a year. I looked after her. Then she moved back to Marian Chateau, then to Muchmore Lodge, then to Wintergreen.
A week before Christmas in 2008, Mother “fell and broke her hip.” Actually, her femur snapped due to the Fosamax she had been taking for years to prevent osteoporosis and she fell.
The Prednisone, low-dose Aspirin, Maximum Strength Arthritis Tylenol, Detrol bladder control medication, and umpteen prescription drugs she had been buying for years all had side effects too. She was spending hundreds of dollars a month. The elderly are big business for doctors and pharmaceutical companies who have a pill for everything and a cure for nothing. The advertising looks good.
Depends diapers, required to deal with Mother's bladder incontinence cost a fortune too. Incontinence, pain and itchy psoriasis were more than a minor inconvenience for Mom, but she lost her weapons when she had the stroke.
Mother was rushed to the Pasqua Hospital by ambulance. "Whee, we can drive fast and play with the sireen!" She could have taken the bus or walked, but it was 40 below zero. She could have stayed at home.
Mother waited for three days for them to get around to operating on her broken leg. She received no food, but was given an IV and morphine which the nurses said was all anyone required. Apparently, nutrition is not part of their education. Compassion and common sense are unknown.
The surgeon told someone the operation to pin her snapped femur had been a success. We never saw him.
"Unfortunately, the patient died. Too bad for her. We did everything we could. She was 87 and it was time for her to go, we decided. We were just too busy to get around to her. We are over-worked and under-paid. Oh good, my overtime bonus cheque has arrived. Now I can take my holiday in the tropics. TaDaa!"
"Please send your tax-deductible donation to the Regina Hospitals Foundation as we need the cash. Volunteer workers are needed too. You can sign up to work for free to help nurses who make up to $250,000 a year with overtime. Regina is known for its community-minded citizens."
"Underfunding is a big problem with medical services in Canada. Everything would be even better than it already is if only we had more money, so pony up suckers."