Copy of Letter Drafted but not sent to DRAFT ONLY The Right Honourable Stephen J. Harper Prime Minister of Canada Honourable Prime Minister, Re: Where is my Canada? Part II I want to thank you once again for taking the time, the second this month, to read a letter from me. It remains an honour. Of that first letter I’m especially proud. To be truthful, Mr. Prime Minister, some of the ideas came from conversations I’ve had over the years with people who emigrated here from other countries. I could never satiate my curiosity learning about post-war England from a teacher I had when I was a child. I remember her stories of that period and its effects on her - the rationing she experienced in the early 1950s, the shortage of shoes (she always bought two whenever she shopped), and how her dinner plate was always gratefully polished off. As a young child, I learned that Canada was special, that I was very lucky to have been born here, and that I had done nothing of note to deserve it. So as this year progressed, I was fighting as much for me as I was for my vision of Canada. I didn’t want to be proven wrong. I wanted to believe, no matter how out-of-focus my vision, that Canada was more or less as I expected. I still want to believe. The period spanning the last few weeks, however, continues to have been a bit of a doozie. Permit me to fill in some of the blanks, and to be a little more candid. Remember those 21 credit inquiries I mentioned? Well, they’re down to 18 now. One company went to bat for me and vigorously argued with Equifax that it was a computer error and should be removed. He was very gentlemanly when describing the experience, but I sense, if I ever met the man in person, the scars would still be there. Otherwise, it’s been a Sisyphean task – the ball is almost at the top of the hill, but gravity wins out eventually. And that company that pillaged my bank account the morning of March 1? Well they tried to pillage it again on March 27. But the damage had already been done. Battling PTSD, combined with the mind-numbing futility of dealing with Equifax, left me drained that Friday morning when I discovered my bank account was almost $900 in the red. I tried reaching them before leaving for a doctor’s appointment, but they hung up on me twice. Arriving early at the medical clinic, I asked for, and was given, a phone to use by the receptionist. Briefly, while on a call with a call centre manager trying to get the unauthorized debit reversed, the office manager came out of her office and walked up to the phone and cut off the line mid-conversation. I was filled with dread – how could I ever get this one particular manager back on the phone again? After several exhausting months, it was too much. I had reached my proverbial breaking point. An unfortunate exchange occurred, chaos ensued, and while on the phone once more the office manager cut off the line, again, mid-sentence. The fact that there was no reaction the second time was unapologetically ignored by the College, and forgiveness remained elusive over the following weeks and months. As I mentioned in my earlier letter, Mr. Prime Minister, Dr. Cord, my family doctor of 18 years, who knew me better than anyone else, rallied behind me and fought to have me remain his patient. I met with the office manager of the Forest Hill Family Health Centre and sincerely apologized to her for my misdemeanours. She accepted my apology and said she understood what had happened. I am grateful to her for her forgiveness; she certainly acted with more maturity and common sense than I or the doctors at the clinic did. For the other 16 doctors at the clinic, despite my Herculean efforts, were not willing to forgive me. The College of Physicians & Surgeons of Ontario, as I mentioned, was a horror story. In early April I learned, during a visit to the clinic, that the College had already made a decision, despite the fact that the investigation was in its early stages. That April 2 morning, while pleading to maintain my physician for the umpteenth time, Dr. Abells assured me “We’re not going to just leave you out on the street.” Yet that’s exactly what he did the very next day, as the termination letter ending the physician/patient relationship was dated April 3. The College has specific guidelines on terminating the patient/physician relationship. In a tragic foreshadowing of what was to come with Bell Canada, facts were ignored, others appeared as if by magic, and hyperbole ruled the day. Suspiciously, College guidelines dictate that upon review of my complaint, a response is required which is to be forwarded to me. I have yet, as of this writing, been provided a copy. Yet this was the approach of the College to a seven-page letter outlining the grotesque Kangaroo Court that was perversely labeled a Committee meeting. As mentioned in my letter of August 9 to your Office, the College is “self-regulating” and hence is accountable to no one. So it’s not surprising that Dr. Cord, on the afternoon of Friday, April 26, left the building to go home for the weekend, knowingly leaving me sitting alone in an examination room waiting for him to come back from another patient. Moreover, on May 17, two days after Bell Canada fired me, I went back to the clinic once more to plead for a transition period during which I could find a suitable physician. One by one, the staff vacated the reception area, and, most egregious of all, a doctor came out and asked two patients to move to an adjacent waiting room. So I was left alone, isolated in the waiting room like bacteria the doctors spend their days eradicating, to emphasize my grotesque existence. Because the College is so proficient at “self-regulating”, the doctors know they can do anything and get away with it, and indeed they have! The 17 doctors at the Forest Hill Family Health Centre, in union with the College, treated a patient undergoing medical treatment for a mental health illness with disdain, displaying not an ounce of compassion or forgiveness. A five-year-old child would have acted with more kindness. And yet, as if the year could not have gotten any worse, it did, as Bell Canada was waiting in the wings. My return-to-work was tortuous beyond imagine, as the constant references to psychologists, counselors, and hospital emergency wards became unbearable. Could you imagine, Mr. Prime Minister, going through this every day for weeks? I was criticized for being “lazy” or “unwilling to work”, and was constantly on guard for the next putdown. Following shortly on the heels of losing my family doctor, I lost my psychologist, and no one from Bell rallied in my defense when Shepell fgi, Bell’s EAP provider, cut him off to save money. The tragedy is that this one man read me very well, and was teaching me to see things in myself that, had I mastered them, would have positively impacted my future. It’s another loss among so many this year that I feel regularly. As with the doctors, little effort was made to help me locate a new counselor, although I did try one recently. Near the end of the first session he insisted that I return, but the next day he called to say he gave it some thought but that my situation was so dire that he had no idea how to help me! After all, the Bell experience alone was full of tragic dates – May 15 (the day I was fired) and July 22 (the day I was left destitute). Since May 15, Bell Canada has traumatized me time and again, as it is desperate to whitewash away the hypocrisy of firing an exemplary employee less than two weeks back from disability battling a mental health illness. Despite already harming me, Bell acted selfishly in concocting a reason to blame it all on me. So on July 22, I was informed I would get no severance, all medical benefits would be cut immediately, and was begrudged EI due to "misconduct" reported on my ROE. From May 15 to July 22, I made approximately 85 separate contacts with Bell employees. Yet on July 18, Scot Adamson petulantly advised in an email he wasn’t willing to spend more time talking, and used the lack of communication as justification for my alleged “misconduct”. He ignored my promised 2pm phone call, as well as two more phone calls, an email, and two messages left with his assistant that day. Talk about creating your own reality! He also chose to ignore emails I sent to George Cope, Kevin Crull, and Kerry Arbour that afternoon, all to claim I made no effort at negotiating a settlement. That’s dirty. The house of cards is top-heavy, as meticulous notes, regularly funneled to my MP and MPP’s offices, present an accurate record of what really has occurred these last few months. But then Bell committed a second heinous act; it left a man with a mental health condition penniless. Only when I started making noises about lack of funds for medicine (I went three weeks without two prescriptions), did Bell realize they were on the hook for my very existence. But without discussion, they dumped $13,000 into my bank account, which I only learned about thanks to my MP’s office. Their “gift”, as Bell likes to call it, is comprised of a lump sum, medical benefits for 3 months, and career counseling. They say it isn’t severance, but an updated ROE sent to Service Canada lists it as such. I sent the money back. What happened next? Bell sent it back to my house, this time by courier. Yes, Mr. Prime Minister, I can’t believe it myself. I’m looking out the window as I write this letter and I see pigs flying in the sky, and the radio just announced that the devil has indeed learned to skate! I told the courier man I wasn’t accepting the package and to send it back, but he waited until I went upstairs and shoved it in through the mail slot. The next morning the manager at the courier company told me Bell told them to “force” me to accept it (forcing someone with PTSD to do something right in their own home is not advisable). Moreover, approximately $2,800 in back wages I was promised by Scot Adamson still hasn’t been paid, and because of a second ROE, my sickness benefits have stopped. Just this Monday, I was down to $0.81 cents, hadn’t had a full meal in five days, and was helped by my neighbour and a friend who e-transferred $50 to me, despite having a wife and three children of his own to support. Bell isn’t giving me the $2,800 simply because there’s nothing in it for them, but with severance, they believe, there is. One last thing, do you remember those hostile and anxiety-provoking ultimatums I mentioned in my last letter to your Office? I’ve asked repeatedly for them to stop, yet Bell has fired another ten unannounced emails at me since then, many from their lawyers. I did live in Tokyo for several years, perhaps that accounts for my perceived affinity for all things Pearl Harbour. There is no communication now, as Bell refuses to do anything to accommodate my health needs. I asked Andre Williams on August 17 to stop with the Pearl Harbours, but he flat-out refused. The lawyers’ letters have threatened me with harassment, and Mr. Prime Minister, if you can believe this, Bell’s lawyers thought it appropriate to inform me that “our client will take the necessary action to bring this harassment to an end, without further notice to you.” Really? To someone with PTSD? That’s rich. And therein lies the rub – Bell Canada’s management, in my experience, doesn’t really believe mental health illness exists at all. If I weren’t so “weak” or “lazy”, and just pulled up my socks and got on with it, I’d be fine. If I had a broken foot, there would be no hesitation in assisting me. Why is this different? In my opinion, the stigma against mental health illness has deep roots and is flourishing at Bell Canada. It’s the story of Canada’s biggest company committing the biggest hypocrisy in Canadian corporate history. You’d think the press would be all over this, Mr. Prime Minister. I did, until I received two emails from a reporter informing me that they are vigilant “about any anti-Bell stories [based on] past experiences”. Apparently freedom of the press isn’t entirely free, as there are “restraints” at one news agency on reporters regarding stories about Bell. This leaves me feeling rather confused. Bell ignored my rights and fired me for having a mental health disability, thereby snubbing its nose at our constitution, and now I learn that they are, to some degree, controlling free speech in this country. How much power does Bell Canada really have? I thought for sure, Mr. Prime Minister, that you, with the blessing of the citizenry, were running this country. Things just aren’t what I expected, and it’s really got me down. Doctors and executives have a power and privilege in society few others share. They must be forever vigilant that their choices are wise and just for a democracy to run smoothly and humanely. That is why, when the judiciary opines on human rights issues, the majority doesn’t rule. Our courts have evolved to the point of recognizing that the cost to those whose rights have been violated so grossly outweighs the slight inconvenience of the majority. This year, 17 doctors and a College saw fit to deny me medical coverage in the middle of treatment, and Bell Canada fired me on May 15 and left me destitute on July 22. I’ll never understand what was gained through such mean-spiritedness to one man. Frankly, I find the cruelty unbearable, and it chokes me up daily. Mr. Prime Minister, I sense an inflection point is close. In six short months, I’ve lost everything - my job, my savings, a doctor who I admired and trusted greatly and who was like family to me, many friends, and yes, hope. Maybe it has nothing more to do with the fact that it’s got that mysterious number thirteen at the end, but compassion seemed to be in short supply this year, just as my British friend felt about shoes so long ago. When I was eleven, I visited my uncle in the hospital a few days before he passed. I’ll always remember his jovial smile, and one Christmas he even dressed up as Santa and made a midnight visit to my house. Now that was a special Christmas! My Mom informed me shortly after he died that all the fighting he was in weakened his heart, and when he came back from the war he was never the same. In such totally different circumstances to be sure, and intending no disrespect toward military veterans and those currently serving, I feel a bond with my uncle in that regard. My heart, after all this fighting for my dignity and human rights, feels somewhat broken as well. Upon greater reflection, I suppose I told a fib in my letter of August 6, Mr. Prime Minister. Unknowingly, the verb tense was off. I loved this great country once. But now, past my own adolescence, I realize I kept hoping for something that wasn’t there anymore. Perhaps there is nothing particularly special about this country anymore; rather, it’s just vacuously average. I would be so grateful, Mr. Prime Minister, if you helped me shake that kaleidoscope just once more. I sense even those tiny coloured pieces are yearning to get back where they belong, or at least somewhere more familiar than where they are now. Truth be told, they’re not all that enamoured with how things have transpired in 2013 either. I thank you once again for your time and that of your Office. Whoever would have suspected that I’d have two bright moments this August? Maybe, just maybe, the tide is turning and those coloured pieces, although imperceptible at first glance, have started moving already. I hope for our children they have. Respectfully yours, DRAFT ONLY David Sullivan-Nesbitt
Posted on: Wed, 28 Aug 2013 16:31:55 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015