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in my five years practicing as a public family doctor, i’ve come to understand the pain of uncertainty.
as doctors, we have tools for pain: medications, physiotherapy, lifestyle changes. but for the unknown—for the opacity of the canadian healthcare system—we have nothing to prescribe.
every day, i see patients needing surgery enter the public system looking for help, only to find themselves wandering a maze with the lights turned off.
the journey begins a month or two before i even see them when they book an appointment with me. then they’ll need diagnostic imaging: add another two to 12 months.
at this point, i have a better understanding whether surgery is needed, but we have to exhaust non-operative options first. plus four to 12 months.
if the patient can’t find lasting relief with a physio or lifestyle changes, they make another appointment with me, and i make the referral. once accepted, we receive a confirmation with an estimated wait time and note: “please do not contact us for status updates, as we do not provide them.”
this is the waiting void. the longest, darkest part of the maze with no communication, no updates, no way to track their position in the queue. i’ve seen estimates for a few months, i’ve seen estimates for a few years.
on long waits, the patient’s world shrinks. the pain gets worse. they stop working. they go on disability. and because the system is a black box, they come back to me, their only lifeline, asking, “doc, have you heard anything? do you know how long it will be?”
i have to look them in the eye and say, “i don’t know.”
that is a terrible feeling for a doctor. we are trained to solve problems, but in this administrative purgatory, we are often as helpless as the patient.
inevitably, the desperation leads to the next set of questions: “what are my options? should i go across the border to buffalo? my friend had surgery done in mexico. what about private clinics in quebec? how much would it cost to get this done so i can go back to work?”