Our doctors need to discover grace and compassion
‘NUNS don’t get cervical cancer.” My blood is boiling. I feel a burning anger rise up through my chest as I hear how the family of a deceased woman were told these heartless words by her consultant. The judgment and casual callousness of this comment belong to what I thought was a bygone era, when misogyny permeated every layer of society and was doled out by those in positions of power.
But this wasn’t from a historical case. This wasn’t the uncovering of another dark chapter of our history. This was here and now: Ireland 2018. This, it would seem, is still how we treat our women.
Dr Gabriel Scally doesn’t strike me as someone who would seek praise, but he certainly deserves it. Unlike some members of his profession, he does not condescend the women at the centre of the CervicalCheck scandal, he champions them.
His report reads in parts like a feminist manifesto. With simple language and a determined focus on clarity, he methodically sets out his findings. He is refreshingly succinct and to the point. And he never tries to speak for the women; rather he lets them speak for themselves.
Quotes from the women and their families are given prominence throughout his 170-page report. In shaded boxes and italic typeface, they remind us time and again this is about real people, our mums, our sisters, our daughters, our best friends.
It’s about their lives and about how they have been let down by a system based on an archaic ‘doctor knows best’ ethos we must now consign to the past.
I’ve had many conversations with friends and family since this controversy erupted. And I’ve learned that I know two of the women affected. For them and so many others who took part in the review, who attended meetings, who selflessly told their stories, this is not about blame.
This is about ensuring the women of this country are treated with respect. This is about providing the best medical care.
Screening saves lives. We cannot remind ourselves of this enough. In the heated atmosphere after the scandal was uncovered, facts at times seemed secondary.
Irresponsible comments from some in politics and the media led people to think that doctors knew women had cancer and didn’t tell them. That is not the case.
The audit process, shown by Dr Scally to be woefully inadequate, was only triggered by a cancer diagnosis. The injustice here was that women were not told of the audit, or of its results.
As Dr Scally says: “On top of their diagnosis of cervical cancer, and all that has meant for them and their families, they have had to deal with a flawed approach to the disclosure of audit findings.”
And as if that wasn’t enough: “The process by which most of them were ultimately made aware of this information compounded the problem.”
And so they say: “Why does this always happen to women?”; “We should have been told in 2016 when the results came”; “They hid it from us, that’s the most painful”; “Paternalism is alive and well.”
Dr Scally speaks of the need for “grace and compassion”. There has been much focus on the need open disclosure. The Government will legislate for it, but laws alone won’t be enough.
In his report, Dr Scally summarises the main outcomes that the women who have been wronged want. The truth, a real apology from someone involved, and an assurance that this won’t happen again. Those who lied and withheld information from the women and their families must apologise. Individually. Face to face. With grace and compassion.
The medical profession must do some serious reflection and the medical colleges consider whether they are doing enough to ensure our young doctors and medical professionals understand the crucial importance of compassion and open communication. The Government for its part will immediately set about implementing Dr Scally’s 50 recommendations.
Dr Gabriel Scally’s report reads in parts like a feminist manifesto; he lets the women speak for themselves