Me and the Mounties. Pt.3.

Me and the Mounties. Pt.3. 

                                                  The Special Constable.         

 As I got to know the recruits and some of the officers better, I couldn’t help being impressed by the commitment of both groups to the force.  Like John Campbell many of them had set their sights on becoming an RCMP officer from childhood.  I know that a number of them who didn’t get into the RCMP for one reason or another became police officers in the provincial or city police.  I don’t know when Canadians started distrusting the RCMP.  In those days, although many would view it with considerable amusement today, people unquestionably and unquestioningly believed that the force was on their side and was there for their protection and safety.  They also believed that the Mounties almost always ‘got their man’.  In fact, Canadians were justly proud of their Federal Police force.

            Besides injuries, all of the other categories of human disease were liable to show up at a clinic.  Because we normally were dealing with a cross section of the young healthy men, I  was occasionally taken aback by the seriousness of some of the diseases that we encountered.  When young Bill Wasylenko, a robust 18-year-old showed up at the clinic complaining of pain in his right knee, I asked him what had happened.

            “I think I twisted it last week but it seemed to be getting better so I didn’t bother to come in.  Then during training yesterday I just couldn’t march on it without limping so the drill sergeant said I better come in and have it checked.”

            I looked at his right knee.  It certainly looked a bit swollen up and when I began to examine it almost every maneuver was too painful to continue.  “It looks  like a bad strain,  Bill.  I think we need to give it a good rest.”  Then I went on to him and Mike.   “We’re going to put you on the RICE regimen that is Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation.    Mike will get all that organized for you.  I’m putting you off all physical duties for the moment I’m going to review this in a week or so.  It should be pretty well settled down by then.  Here’s a prescription for some pain pills and you can carry on with your classes and other non physical activities.”  I looked up at Mike, “make it happen Mike.”

            “I sure will, Doc.  This boy is certainly no complainer.”  A great complement from Mike.

             Two weeks later, when I saw him again.  I was concerned to see his knee to be as swollen as ever, and to be no less tender on examination. 

            “This should be improved by now.  I’m going to have an x-ray and will decide if you need to be seen by an orthopedic surgeon.”

            I gave him the x-ray requisition and said, “Mike will get you back into the clinic as soon as the results are available.” 

            Three days later, I walked in, and Mike greeted me with, “what did the x-rays show Doc?”

            I said, “I haven’t seen the results yet Mike.  I’ll have a look at the report as soon as I sit down.”

            The X ray reports suggested an area in the bone near the medial epicondyle that could be a bone cyst and suggested correlation with the clinical data, (a standard cliché when the radiologist wonders if it could be something more ominous).

“This doesn’t look too good, Mike,” I said, “Bone cysts usually don’t cause trouble.  I think we better have orthopedics take a look at this guy.  Let’s have Dr. Spencer see him in consultation.”

“I’ll set it up Doc,” said Mike.

Two weeks later a consultation letter arrived from Dr. Spencer telling us he was admitting Bill to the hospital for a bone biopsy and soon after that a consultation report stated that the lesion was an osteosarcoma, a malignant bone tumor requiring the leg to be amputated.  There was no evidence of spread and the surgeon cautiously expressed his hope that the patient would be cured by the amputation.  When I made some inquiries about him later I learned that he had been returned to his home in Ontario and that the force was offering him some sort of appropriate employment, though in what capacity I never found out

            In addition to looking after the recruits, RCMP officers of various ranks came into the clinic for both routine medical examinations and with various complaints.  For their personal health issues, most of them had family doctors in the community but the convenience of being seen right on the spot at the depot tended to be overwhelming. This was further facilitated by the fact that they could give Mike a call requesting him to slip them in at the end of clinic and being the obliging fellow he was Mike would usually meet the requests.  Although this did not happen very often it was not unusual as we were winding up for Mike to ask me if I would see one of the officers.  Thus over a period of time I came to know quite a few of them and if they did not have a regular family physician become their primary care doctor.

            Sergeant Peters was one such patient and I had seen him on a number of occasions, usually for minor complaints.  I was somewhat surprised when he arrived at my office downtown in Regina in uniform, one morning

             “There’s a Mountie waiting to see you, Dr. Smith,” Peggy my nurse said, nervously.

            “My God,” I said dramatically, “don’t tell me they finally caught up with me.  Better show him in.”

            “Sorry to bother you, Doc, but I have a little favor to ask of you,” he smiled. I smiled back and tried not to look irritated at being disturbed when I was already running a little late.  He probably had some minor complaint, that could’ve waited until I was out at the post tomorrow, I thought.

            “What can I do for you, Sergeant?”  I asked.

            “This is a little different from the usual business you do with us, Doc,” he said.  “Sometimes we have need for medical help in our police work and wondered if you would be interested in helping us out?”

            “What sort of medical help do you have in mind?”  I asked suspiciously.

            “I know you’re busy right now, and I wouldn’t have bothered you at your office under normal circumstances.  In fact, I was planning to meet with you after your clinic next week to discuss this.  But we do have a job at hand that we would like you to help us with. Of course we do have a special budget to pay you for this sort of work,” he added.

            “Exactly what sort of work are we talking about here?”  I asked.

            “I think you know Andrew Higgins, he was in to see you for his annual medical not very long ago?”

            I had no recollection of who he was talking about but I nodded anyway.

            “Well, he’s doing some undercover work and is supposed to be off his job and on workers compensation at the moment.  We felt that it would add credibility to his role if you could put a cast on his arm so that he would really look the part.”

            “That seems straightforward enough.  Sure I’ll do it.  When do you need him ready for the job?”

            The sergeant said, “That’s just it.  He’s going to a big union meeting this evening and he is supposed to be off work because of a broken arm.”

            “Okay, bring him into my office this afternoon and I’ll cast him,” I said.

            “That’s really great, thanks.  And I’ve arranged to look in to see you for half an hour or so next week so we can discuss this arrangement and what else it might involve.”

            Const. Higgins showed up at my office, dressed as a slightly seedy working man and as arranged I quickly put a cast on his left arm.

            “Don’t forget to let this harden properly, and if it feels too tight or causes any tingling or discoloration in your fingers, get right back to the office here or to the emergency department if it’s during the night.  I don’t want your arm falling off over a cast you didn’t need in the first place.   I want to see you no later than two weeks for removal of the cast, earlier if your mission permits it.”

            Constable Higgins seemed quite amused by the situation and despite my cautions to him his final dismissive words where, “thanks Dr., don’t worry, I’ll take this off myself when I don’t need it any longer.” And with that he scooted out of the office and I didn’t see him again until his next annual medical examination one year later, when his arm was still attached to his body and the cast had long since been relegated to the dump, cut off by himself, ecause he was too busy to come and see me.

     The following week Mike booked Sergeant Peters in for a half hour chat with me when the clinic was finished.  Mike was determined that the clinic was going to be finished in time for the meeting.  I arrived a little early on the morning to find Mike addressing all the recruits who were waiting to be seen.  As I approached the door, unseen by him, I heard him addressing them.

            "Now the doctor is very busy with important business today.  I don't want any of you wasting his time.  If there's nothing wrong with you get out of here and if there is make it short and sweet."

            "Yes sir."

            I noticed a couple shrink away.  They didn't mess with Mike.  Mike made sure as I knew he would, to see that the clinic ended a few minutes before the meeting with Sgt Peters was due to begin.  The sergeant got down to business without wasting time.

            “What we really need Doc, is a doctor who would do body searches, examinations for drugs and alcohol and various other medical examinations that we occasionally need for evidence.”

            “So in practical terms, what would that actually involve?” I asked.

            “A flight comes into Regina, either a scheduled commercial one or a private one and we might have cause to expect there's something funny going on so we pick up a guy and need to make sure he's not carrying illegal contraband, most commonly drugs, that's when we might need to call on you,” he responded.  "We need someone to assess whether it is appropriate or necessary to do a body search on these individuals and just how far it's necessary to go.  It may even require a rectal or vaginal examination or sigmoidoscopy.  I know you are well aware Doc, that if we were to do too many of these sorts of exams we’d have all the left wing lawyers raising bloody hell, and all of these guys walking, ” he said grimly.

            I found myself in sympathy with Sgt. Peter’s frustrations.  Funny because I always considered myself a liberal, until I found that the drift to the left was going so far out it was threatening our society.

            “Yes, I know what you mean.  Don't worry, I'll use good judgment and if I consider the search necessary I’ll proceed with it and if I don't I won't.”

            Sergeant Peters paused and looked at me as though considering whether he had chosen the right man for the job. 

            Then he said, “if you were going to do some work of this sort for us, for your own protection it would be necessary for you to make it clear to the prisoner that you're functioning as an RCMP officer and not as the patient's personal physician.”

            “Yes, I can see that,” I answered.

            He continued, “in order to protect you as well as ourselves it is important for the prisoner and his legal counsel to realize that the physician under these circumstances is working for the RCMP.”

            “Yes, if the prisoner didn't agree to that, I could do nothing anyway or it would be construed as an assault.”

            “Exactly,” said Sergeant Peters, “I have talked this over with my superiors and they suggested that we a make you a special constable, which would make your role very clear.”

            “And I suppose that a handsome salary goes along with being a special constable,” I smiled, because I could see that Sergeant Peters wasn't sure how seriously to take me.

            “No, I'm afraid not sir,” he said formally.  However we do have a small budget that would let us pay you a reasonable fee on a fee-for-service basis.”

            To cut a long story short after filling in the appropriate forms and going through the mandatory security check I was duly appointed a special constable in the RCMP.  This of course was a source of great amusement to my family and friends, until I threatened to arrest them by virtue of the powers vested in me.

           For the next several years every now and again I would get a call from the RCMP to request that I come out to the airport, or to the RCMP holding cells which were located below the main post office on S. Railway St in Regina.  For the most part it only took the appearance of the doctor at the scene to help resolve it.

            Such a request resulted in a visit to the airport one night when a small aircraft made an unscheduled landing at the Regina Flying Club, where I was greeted by several RCMP officers.  When I got to the airport the accused had already been questioned and denied any contraband items including drugs.  I was invited into the interrogation.  “Let's go over this again,” the RCMP officer said, “you are from Regina and you were down in Minot North Dakota for a few days holiday, and you arrived here tonight without a flight plan and tried to land unnoticed at the Regina flying club right next to the airport?”

            “Yeah, that's about it.”  The scruffy looking little pilot said.

            "And you brought nothing back with you?  You were just on holiday."

            "No sir,"

            "So why the late-night flight with no flight plan?" asked the officer.

            "I had to come back in a hurry.  I had a phone call that my wife was sick so I thought I'd better get home as soon as possible."

            "We got the doctor here to check you over," the officer said.

            The prisoner glanced over at my direction,"

            "Hi, Doc," he said as though delighted to see a friend.

            "Hi, I am Dr. Smith, I do some work for the RCMP, in fact I'm a special constable in the force and I want you to realize that."

            "I'm sure glad there's a doctor here, it makes me feel a lot safer," he grinned.

            You dumb bastard I thought, I've just told you I'm on the other side.  Aloud I said, "You understand that I am an RCMP special constable as well as being the doctor and I want to make sure you understand that.  I'm not your family doctor." 

            Judging from the way the grin faded from his face and was replaced by a look of anxiety I felt he was beginning to get the message.

            "I'm OK doc, I don't need no doctor," he bleated.

            "I'm here because you're under suspicion of smuggling drugs into the country," I responded.

            "They searched the plane didn't find anything," he replied indignantly.

            "Yes, but to put it bluntly they think you may have swallowed the evidence or stuck it up your ass.  In either event, there's only one way it can come out and you know as well as I do what that is.  So the suggestion is that I do a rectal examination and if necessary a sigmoidoscopy."

            "What the hell is that?"  He asked anxiously.

            "It's sticking a tube up your bum and looking to see if there are any condoms up there that may be full of heroin or something like that," I explained.

            "There’s no way I'm having anyone sticking a tube up my bum.  You can't make me."  He said challengingly.

            "No we can’t," I admitted.

            The officer in charge intervened, "that's OK doc, if he won't consent to that, we’ll just hold him here in one of our holding cells at the post office for a few days until all of his bowel contents are emptied right under our supervision and then this to be scrutinized so carefully that a grain of sand couldn't pass through unnoticed."

            And that's exactly what happened, after about an agonizing twenty-four hours until the prisoner couldn't hold on any longer he passed a condom full of heroin.  Twelve hours later he passed another.

            Case solved!