It was almost two years ago I placed my first call to Arvin Minocha to hear his story.
A producer at CTVâs âThe Socialâ had passed me his name after hearing I had abruptly lost my younger sister during a nightmarish 24 hours in 1997. Kelly had collapsed at work in Mississauga (she was a cop) and in hospital suffered multiple seizures over several hours, later attributed to a brain tumour she didnât know she had. I had arrived at her bedside too late, not being able to scramble fast enough from where I was living in New York.
The same thing had happened to Arvin, and his sister Pamela. He couldnât get to a Toronto hospital in time to say goodbye as her condition rapidly deteriorated. She had been admitted to St. Josephâs Medical Center with dizzy spells and poor breathing after a dentistâs appointment, dying shortly after from cardiac arrest.
In the aftermath of my familyâs loss, we closed ranks and grieved as privately as we could. We never questioned the hospitalâs actions over Kellyâs death, wouldnât allow an autopsy, and never met with any of the staff who had been in charge of her care. Our shock immobilized us. In retrospect I wish we had had the wherewithal to probe the quality of her care more precisely.
Arvin and his family, while just as profoundly saddened by Pamelaâs loss, instead started asking some hard questions right away. Ten, to be precise, which Arvinâs friends in the medical community helped him draft. He sent them to St. Josephâs and within a month received a reply. Not the detailed answers Arvin was hoping to receive to his questions, but a reply.
Arvin isnât the kind of guy to give up easily.
The hospitalâs reluctance to move beyond carefully crafted and sometimes vague statements aroused his suspicion. So over the next year, in phone calls and emails (the hospital counted seventy-nine engagements) Arvin relentlessly probed what decisions had been made about Pamelaâs care and by whom. He believed there were inconsistencies in the medical records (one doctor wrote the family had been consulted before it removed Pamela from life support -- Arvin and his parents deny that ever happened) and a Coronerâs report that recommended St. Josephâs review some of its procedures raised even more questions.
An internal investigation by St. Josephâs into how Pamela Minocha had died was completed, but the hospital wouldnât share it with Arvin because it was protected under Ontarioâs Quality of Care Information Protection Act, or QCIPA.
Other provinces have enacted similar laws in the past decade, which prevent anyone outside of the hospital from seeing the results of internal investigations. They are powerful laws since the Freedom of Information Acts canât be used to force hospitals to share their reports with patients or their families, and it is entirely at the hospitalâs discretion whether to invoke the law. Thatâs what happened in the Minocha case, QCIPA was declared by St. Josephâs and an entirely legal cloak of secrecy descended on who did what to try to save Pamela Minochaâs life. If mistakes were made, only the hospital knew it. If actions were taken to address systemic issues, only the hospital and its staff knew it.
All the Minochaâs were told was this: âOur review did not identify or uncover any deficits in the clinical care provided to Ms. Minocha.â
Ontario is now proposing amendments to its QCIPA laws, Manitoba has already adjusted its version. There is a growing recognition that in trying to encourage doctors and nurses to come forward by providing them legal immunity to admit mistakes, families have too often been left without answers to ease their grief. Nothing compels a hospital to hide behind the laws, and some donât, but critics say the legislation has been used by many hospitals to avoid transparency and sharing with the broader society what theyâve learned after bad things happened to one of their patients.
When W5 reached out to St. Josephâs the Hospital would only respond via an e-mailed statement: ââThe facts, findings and recommendations of Ms. Minochaâs case have been shared with the family.â
Arvin and his family donât agree. After three years of trying to coax the detailed investigation report from St. Josephâs have given up trying. So now they are taking the hospital, and by extension the QCIPA law to court, arguing it has created an imbalance in power where the institutions of care have too much power to avoid accountability.
In Arvinâs case his frustration has left him with little trust, but no less determination to know the circumstances of his sisterâs death. Itâs a fight that has become deeply personal to him, and one many other families who have suffered loss will be watching with interest.