It was appropriate, I think, that Conrad Black should provide the world with a portrait of a bully in action when he did. Two weeks ago, on different United Kingdom TV networks, he snarled his extensive vocabulary in full threat mode at interviewers who dared to mention his criminal record while allowing him free air time to promote his latest book.
At the time of his ugly outbursts, major debates were being conducted in newspapers, radio hotlines, magazines and the twittering class that dominates social networks. Participants were not only concerned with physical bullying, where dominators use physical attacks to control and intimidate others, but also by the more often used and more difficult to control verbal attacks designed to demean.
In a way, I suppose, Black did us all a service with his tongue lashing of the two TV interviewers. He provided a display of power of words and their danger when used with an arrogance that denies all other points of view. The world was wrong, Black raged, he was right and only his saintly virtue gave him the strength to endure the questioning of a "priggish, gullible, English fool" and held him back from "getting up and smashing [the interviewer's] face in."
When interviewer Jeremy Paxman suggested Black "go ahead," the response was a subdued, pious, virtuous: "No, I don't believe in violence." When I saw that astounding exchange on television I thought he was trying to be funny. If he was, it didn't work.
There was a letter to the editor of the Globe and Mail a few days ago. It read in total: "Perhaps Conrad Black and Lance Armstrong should go on tour together. They could discuss how they were both victims of too much evidence." A neat summation.
But that's enough about arrogant saintliness and nasty eloquence. Let me ramble for a minute or two on another, totally unrelated, topic - the often-maligned British Columbia health service.
I had occasion to give a shout for an ambulance last Sunday. My good friend Anne Beckett wasn't feeling too well, no appetite, no energy, having difficulty staying awake. I suggested a trip to Emergency. "No," she said, "I'll be OK tomorrow."
I phoned one of her old friends, Geri Hinton, for support and advice. Retired now, Geri has retained her nursing skills and authority. She arrived within minutes, checked pulse and temperature and pronounced: "Call an ambulance."
I did. I talked to the dispatcher providing addresses, phone numbers then handed the phone to Geri to answer "patient" questions. As she talked, we heard the sirens. Within minutes of making the call for help it was at the door, Anne's bed was surrounded by B.C. Ambulance Service paramedics with Oak Bay firemen in support. Assessments were made with quiet efficiency, and the medics and their patient were on their way to Royal Jubilee emergency.
Even on a quiet Sunday evening, Emergency was busy. But not too busy to expedite the transfer of patients from ambulance to treatment centre or to keep track of friends wondering what happens next. I waited half an hour before being ushered in to action central, where a multitude of sick and injured people were being treated for cuts and bruises, breaks and sprains, heart attacks and strokes or, as in Anne's case, an as-yet-unknown illness.
I have written before in praise of our ambulance service and hospitals. A few years ago when I fell and broke my shoulder bone, I had personal reasons for praise and thank yous. Two sons have survived major surgery, one in Victoria, the other in Vancouver. Then earlier this year my old friend Jim Sawyer tested the system in Port Alberni's West Coast General. Now here I am again wondering how these people, paramedics, nurses, doctors, receptionists, technicians, keep their balance and their sanity, surrounded as they are by so much pain, concern and fear.
Last Sunday evening, I waited until an emergency-room doctor brought me up to date on a first early diagnostic assessment: "Mrs. Beckett has a high fever as a result of an infection. She will stay overnight for sure and it could take several days to track it down."
He was interested to hear we had just come back from a two-week luxury liner cruise and wryly noted: "These days, travel can be hazardous."
Monday afternoon, Anne was still in emergency. It would be easy to complain about the lack of privacy and constant hustle and bustle. But demands on staff are incredibly heavy and she was in good and caring hands. Eventually, she was moved to the new patient care centre for more tests. A stressful few days, but comforting to know we have a pretty good healthcare safety net out there. One to be protected and provided for, whatever the cost.
