If I had been psychiatrist-in-chief from 1947 to 1965…

I would probably be a man and would be known as the medical superintendent of the Verdun Protestant Hospital. In 1947, I would witness the introduction of group therapy within the hospital—a very good idea in a hospital with 1,700 beds and only 6 psychiatrists.

I would also, from 1950 to 1956, approve 140 lobotomies, performed on patients in our operating room. With great pride and sheer amazement, I would witness in my own hospital, the ground-breaking introduction of chlorpromazine for the treatment of schizophrenia in 1953, followed, within 4 years, by the equally momentous introduction of imipramine for the treatment of depression. As melancholic clouds lifted from our very depressed patients and paranoid fears allayed in our schizophrenic patients, I would envision a bright future with hope for the hopeless and the quietening of screams that would often keep me awake on hot summer nights at Burland Villa.

The academic world would finally hear of the Verdun Protestant Hospital and we would take a leadership position in the treatment of severe mental disorders. In 1955, I would have the honour of opening the doors of the asylum, as 4 out of 26 wards no longer needed to be locked, thanks to the great strides being made with new treatments. On a more sobering note, that very same year, I would have to implement the 275 recommendations generated by a visit from the central inspection board of the American Psychiatric Association.

One of my biggest challenges would be to come up with a way of establishing an outpatient program and after-care clinic, as suggested by the inspectors—where to begin? By 1956, with the help of the Social Services Department, a plan would be hatched, and our home-care program launched. Why not relieve overcrowding by allowing carefully-selected patients to be discharged to a homelike environment in a supervised foster home? In no time, 250 patients would leave the hospital and, with regular visits from social workers and a monthly examination by their doctor, many of them would never return.

Given that, in numerous aspects of our work, our volunteers had become indispensable, we would be thrilled in 1958 when the Auxiliary was formed and none other than Mrs. E. Hutchison accepted the honorary presidency. The following year, under pressure to improve our services, we would put into effect a plan to separate patients over 65 from the rest. Why not dedicate Porteous Pavilion to geriatrics? The staff would not be so happy on moving day, but soon the transition would be complete and the new Geriatrics Service in full swing.

There would also be grumbling among staff about all the changes that were taking place, but the real changes had not yet been set in motion and we would soon begin a radical transformation of VPH. With a great deal of persuasion and with the support of Frank B. Common, president of our board, a major plan to reorganize and modernize the hospital would be approved. It would mean closing the farm—but not having our own eggs and milk would be a small price to pay for finding the space to develop our own child and adolescent services. Anyway, the neighbours on Stephens Street, who had been bitterly complaining about the noise from the pigs, would warmly welcome our new plan.

By the 60’s, the hospital would become too big to be run by one man. Although I had fully enjoyed the absolute authority accorded to me as medical superintendent, and had not minded being called the benign dictator behind my back, I would see the advantages of the new law that would come into effect in 1961 and stipulate that each hospital had to have a medical board. By 1963, on the advice of the medical board, the organisational structure would change and 3 leadership positions would be created: executive director, medical superintendent and assistant medical superintendent. I, of course, would become the executive director.


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