The waiting room. Dowdy, poorly painted, plastic flowers, dilapidated furniture, musty. On the wall two photographs of a youthful Queen Elizabeth II. No other pictures. Would this room have looked any different in 1970? Such were my thoughts last Friday in Hobart as I awaited my Informal Inquiry by the Medical Council of Tasmania regarding a complaint I’ve previously mentioned [1,2,3,4]. The Inquiry began bang on time at 12:30 p.m. I thought it couldn’t have gone better. After my 35-minute presentation, then 15 minutes of questions from four Councillors, the President banished me back to the waiting room whilst the Council deliberated. Some 40 minutes later I was summoned and told they wanted more information, but not from me. So they adjourned the Inquiry. They said they’d let me know their verdict – my fate – by mail. And it could take some time. I was deflated, angry, disillusioned. Still am, but less so as time passes. If I find their verdict unacceptable, I’ll be tempted to take them to court to clear my name. But that’s premature; I need to wait and see what their verdict is. Their waiting room isn’t modern, but their attitude sure is: ignore rules of evidence; disregard natural justice; withhold benefit of the doubt; and dismiss my feelings. Thank you, Medical Council. I have complete respect for, and confidence in, you. Not.
1 week ago
1 comment:
We can understand what your going through, my husband just went through something similar with work cover. He feels just as you do and his out come was not as we would have liked but at least it was not too bad. A bit like burnt soup. Cheers Claudia
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