[Toronto Globe and Mail 7/15/00] On Tuesday, Dr. Gary Romalis, a Vancouver gynecologist who performs abortions, was stabbed in the back outside his office. It was the second attempt on his life. He nearly bled to death in November, 1994, when he was hit by a gunshot fired through his kitchen window.
Every day, doctors who do abortions face danger, yet they soldier on. The following article was written by one such physician.
When they shoot you is not the time to start taking precautions.
The threat to my life is very real: Doctors who provide abortions live with the risk that they may be killed. Living under that threat is like anything else: You learn to live with it and adapt. The chances of being targeted are small, but if you are shot, you may not have a second chance to tighten up security.
A special police task force established after a spate of doctor shootings has helped me with security measures. My office and home both have bulletproof windows. The patio where my family holds barbeques has a fence that prevents a sniper from getting a clear shot. Our curtains have opaque backings so that light does not shine through, and the doors are always locked.
I have a nondescript car that has a remote starter; I start it from a distance in case it has been wired with a bomb. There is special shatter-resistant coating on the windows and Kevlar panels in the doors. I never get out of the car on the street, but always open the garage door with a remote control and close it before getting out.
Both my home and my office have special alarm systems and multiple video cameras outside that are continuously monitored.
When I go to work, I park in different lots and enter the building through different doors each day. I wear a bulletproof vest to work. I am especially careful in the high danger seasons for example, around Remembrance Day, on which there have been shootings in four different years. My local police department gave me the vest; I paid about $1,000 for the changes to the car and I pay $200 a month to have the cameras monitored.
Is all this being paranoid? I feel it is just prudent. Simple measures can be taken that enhance security without affecting quality of life.
I remain discreet about the work I do. The hospital in which I do other work is not aware that I also do abortions at a separate facility.
My wife and oldest child are aware of my role as an abortion provider; my younger children are not. I feel that at their age it is too much for them to handle.
It must be hard to be on the other side of the abortion issue. It must be terrible if you believe that murder is going on. I don't mind peaceful protest and lobbying for legislation. I expect and respect the opinions of protesters.
And I have put myself into a situation where protest and resistance are going to happen. My family is another matter: They have not made the conscious choice that I have so I try to insulate them from the controversies.
I am 48 years old, married with four children -- two in high school, one in university and one married with children. My family and I are active members of a church.
My parents were teachers, and they encouraged independent thinking. One of my daughters became pregnant at the age of 17 while attending high school; she decided to continue the pregnancy and I had no difficulty supporting her choice.
Being discreet allows my children to grow up without being teased at school or having fingers pointed at them on the street or in the grocery store. Being prudent allows them not to grow up as orphans. Having the strength of conviction to ensure that women have choice allows me to stand tall and sleep at night.
Women's rights have undergone profound change in my lifetime. When I was born, women did not yet have the right to vote in Quebec. Until 1969, it was a criminal act to have an abortion. From 1969 to 1988, a woman had to get the permission of a hospital committee to have an abortion, and it was only in 1988 that women were given the right to make these decisions on their own.
I never thought much about abortion until I was a medical student and heard on the news that Henry Morgentaler was in jail for doing abortions. Suddenly, there was discussion of abortion on radio and television and in newspapers and university common rooms.
I hadn't previously seen abortion as a basic need that involved rights. I hadn't realized that a woman wasn't in control of her body.
Dr. Morgentaler seemed to be a compassionate doctor who not only provided the abortion service, but also was willing to admit to carrying out the procedure.
As the story unfolded in the press, I remember following each detail, being elated by the jury acquittal and then indignant and angry at the overturning of the decision. At that point, I became a supporter of a woman's right to an abortion if she felt she needed one.
The next step was being willing to put my money where my mouth was and I contributed to the Morgentaler Defence Fund. In the busy years that followed, through internship and residency, I remained a quiet supporter, but never had a need to go further.
My first direct experience was several years after I had entered practice in small-town Ontario. A nurse at a large teaching hospital where I had trained came to me trying to get an abortion; she did not want to go to the hospital where she worked.
In those days, you had to submit requests to the hospital therapeutic abortion committee. I wrote a letter of application, but the committee wouldn't meet to discuss my request. I then learned that it had never met, had never approved an abortion and was a committee in name only.
I booked the case as a dilation and curettage and had the patient admitted.
When I arrived in the operating room, I found myself alone with the patient; no nurses, no anesthetist. When I wheeled the patient in, the chief of staff stormed in and informed me that I had no privileges to perform the surgery and that if I went any further, I would be thrown off the hospital staff and he would try to see that I lost my licence to practise medicine.
The patient was absolutely devastated -- as was I. My livelihood and professional future was threatened -- as was hers.
At that moment, the only person I knew of who would help this woman was Henry Morgentaler. I called to refer her and this was my first contact with the person whose cause I had supported as a student.
Until then, I was merely an onlooker; now, I knew I was personally involved.
This led to my becoming even more vocal and outspoken in support of abortion, and in the years that followed, I came to know Dr. Morgentaler as a personal friend. But I had never considered being an abortion provider.
In the early 1990s, access to abortion was getting worse because of declining numbers of physician providers, particularly in small towns and rural communities.
The government had set up an abortion training program, but there were few applicants and Henry approached me to join the first class. Afterward, I returned to my routine practice and normal life.
That all changed dramatically the day I was seen on national television walking beside Henry at a public event, which I had attended as a friend of his. I was not providing abortions, but nonetheless the next day I was called into the administrator's office of the hospital in which I worked and was told that "they didn't need people like me in that hospital." I was given one day to clear out my office.
Since then, I have been a committed abortion provider.
I work in a specialty practice and do hospital work. Two days a week, I change hats and work as an abortion provider both in a public-hospital setting and in a clinic.
I love both aspects of my work, but abortion practice is particularly rewarding. The staff are dedicated and skilled professionals with a special empathy with our patients. It takes a special kind of person to work under the threats and harassment that we face every day.
Our patients come from all walks of life and span the ages from the teens to the 50s. Each patient has her own reason for seeking an abortion.
Abortion is never an easy decision; it is often a choice between bad and worse. We are seeing people at the vital moments of making decisions that determine the events of their lives.
My function starts when they have come to their own decision about what they know they need, to provide a service safely, competently and with empathy.
Initially, I saw this as a one-way street: I provided a service. Over time, my clients have taught me about life. Sometimes we learn about things that we would prefer not to know, about the violence and lack of security that many women have, about the poverty and hopeless circumstances in which some people live.
In my other practice, chronic disease is common: Cure is rare, treatment is expensive, painful or complex and patients seldom say "thanks."
But the common thread among the women for whom I provide abortions is that they have a problem that I can cure. And almost without fail, when they leave the operating room, they say "thank you." That makes it -- the bulletproof vest, the fences, the cameras, the drawn curtains -- all worth it.
[posted 7/18/00]
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