Stories of Ordinary Medicine: A Future for the Children

Do you have a family background in medicine?
Two uncles, three male cousins, and two female cousins — all doctors. I had two main role models: one of my cousins, Dušan Kaláš, who after graduation worked as the head of internal medicine in Vrchlabí, and my cousin Iva Šimková, who became head of radiology at St. Anne’s Hospital. Both of them, by the way, also studied in Brno. Another cousin is an ophthalmologist, another one a dental surgeon... So yes, in our family you’re either a teacher or a doctor. The only exception is my brother, who became an engineer.

What memories do you have of your studies at the Faculty of Medicine? Do any of your professors particularly stand out in your memory?
So many! For instance, Professor (Jaroslav) Staněk, who taught physics, though to be honest he didn’t impress me much... But Professor (Oktavian) Wagner, the biochemist — he was a golden man! Very kind and friendly. I also remember Professor (Oldřich) Nečas, who taught biology... And Professor (Jaromír) Vašků — he was a tough one! Passing his experimental lab was quite something. When I was studying, Professor (Karel) Žlábek was still teaching anatomy, too...

Do you remember how you met your future wife at the faculty?
Yes, it was during a winter training course. My wife was a year ahead of me and studying pediatrics. We were both interested in chess, and one day she came to ask if I could help her solve a particular chess problem. That was the beginning of our relationship. We’ve now been together for over fifty years.

How do you remember the events of 1968, and how did they influence your professional path?
In the spring, things were looking bright and everyone was full of enthusiasm. But then the Russians started interfering, and that was the end of it. Dubček was removed, Husák took over, and it was all over. When the Russians came, I happened to be doing my military service in Mikulov, so I remember it as an unpleasant experience... Our training was canceled immediately, and the next day I went home to Znojmo, where I had arranged for my first job...

Did politics play any role in your choice of that first position?
Znojmo didn’t feel particularly political to me. People mainly cared about skills, I would say... And I wanted to go to Znojmo because my wife was already working there in pediatrics. By that time, we were married. I was always drawn to gynecology, which together with obstetrics seemed to me a diverse and fascinating field requiring deep medical knowledge. At my final exams, I got an “excellent” in gynecology, even with special commendation. There was quite a bit of competition for gynecology positions in Znojmo — we were two or three applicants — but I managed to win the spot, perhaps because I had already done my practicum there during my studies. And so I was able to stay in gynecology to this day. Znojmo was wonderful — I really liked it there.

How long did you work in Znojmo?
A long time! I completed my first and then my second board certification, worked for a while as a senior physician in Znojmo, and after several years, there even appeared the possibility that I might move to a head physician position in Jihlava...

...but that didn’t happen, did it?
No, it didn’t... That was in 1984, when we decided to leave. We were still relatively young, young enough to try to start over somewhere else — I was thirty-eight. But it was close. We were worried whether everything would work out and that we wouldn’t run into trouble with the system.

Thirty-eight? That doesn’t quite add up if you graduated in 1968...
Oh yes, it does. I went to high school at Mendlák, and later we moved to Koněvka. (Today’s Gymnázium Brno, Vídeňská was founded in 1957 on what was then Koněvova Street, when the eleven-year secondary school from Mendlovo náměstí was relocated there — author’s note.) I was lucky because I went from eighth grade straight to the eleven-year school and finished high school at seventeen. So I finished medical school at twenty-three. I was a damn young doctor!

So you decided to emigrate after some fifteen years of a medical career under socialism?
We had been thinking about it for a while already, but my wife’s grandmother was ill, and my father was too, so it wouldn’t have been right to leave. And it wasn’t easy either! We had two children, and escaping with kids is not simple... We tried a different route: we applied to work as experts in developing countries through the company Polytechna, which assigned us to Zambia — but we never got there. At our transfer stop in Rome, we applied for asylum, and that’s how our journey outside the republic began. (Polytechna was one of the so-called foreign trade enterprises controlled by the Ministry of Foreign Trade, which held a monopoly on all foreign trade operations in communist Czechoslovakia. Polytechna “facilitated technical cooperation” in fields defined by government decrees. As part of its activities, it sent experts abroad, collected their full salaries, and paid them only a fraction — author’s note.)

You decided to emigrate even though, if I understand correctly, both you and your wife had stable jobs and some position at the Znojmo Hospital?
Well, it was a bit tricky. At the faculty, they made me join the Party, so I functioned as a Party member. In 1970, when the big vetting process took place, I was in the army — one year of compulsory service. For reasons I still don’t understand, they even vetted me there as a doctor, but they said I was OK, so I stayed in the Party. But it bothered me a lot because the Party kept pushing me into things I didn’t like or didn’t want to do... And when the kids started school and showed that both of them had amazing abilities, my wife and I said to each other that we had to do something to give them a chance to develop those talents — which wasn’t at all certain in that system. At that time, they practiced a kind of “doctor–worker–doctor–worker” policy, and if the local Party committee decided that there were already enough doctors in a family, they simply wouldn’t let your child study medicine. I’m not saying it was universal, but in some places it was, and Znojmo became quite "red" for a time. So we decided we wanted to give our children a chance at a better future. In short, I fled as a comrade!

What did the pressure to make a student join the Party look like?
They came to me saying I was an excellent student, that they valued my achievements, and that they’d like me to become a Party member... People didn’t really resist. Well, there were some heroes who refused, but I’ve never been a hero, so...

…so you were in the Communist Party, but from what you’re saying, you weren’t particularly active in it, were you?
No, not really... (laughs) But thanks to being in the Party, I was allowed to take my second-level medical board exam, which not everyone could do. So it had its pros and cons. But in the end, the cons outweighed the pros.

When did you start considering emigration as a real solution?
Well, it’s a question whether it was a solution. Everything has its pros and cons. When we left, the children were eleven and thirteen, and it was a chance for a different life. When we began to think about leaving by going abroad as experts to developing countries, the whole process — from applying to being approved and actually being allowed to leave — took about three years.

Was that your first attempt?
Before that, we had tried once more — on a vacation trip to the seaside, through Yugoslavia. We inquired at the emigration office in Belgrade. There was a big camp there where people waited for a long time to see if any country would accept them. From there, most people went to the USA, Australia, Canada, or South Africa. But they sent us away: “You’re not being persecuted, you’re both doctors, so go home!” (laughs)

I can imagine the regime might have found it suspicious that you wanted to go to Zambia together with your wife and children…
We were supposed to teach there, and we were allowed to take the children with us. The condition was that my wife and the kids would return after one year, and I after two. So once everything was approved and the country assigned, everything seemed calm. In Rome, instead of boarding the connecting flight to Africa, we went to the police and said we wanted to stay. The police didn’t have a problem with it — they took us to a refugee camp, and three months later we were in Canada.

Three months was quite a short time by the standards of those days, wasn’t it?
We were among the fastest emigrants to get out of the camp! The camps had a kind of points system for assessing refugees. Since we were both doctors, both fluent in English, and we had two children, we scored very high — and everything went quickly.

So based on this system, countries selected immigrants who could contribute to their society?
Exactly. Reasonable nations that were willing to accept immigrants were careful about whom they were bringing into their “house,” right? Unfortunately, that’s changed. It works differently today. Back then, the selection process was pretty strict.

What were the conditions like in those refugee camps?
We were about sixty kilometers from Rome. Food was provided, and the accommodation was quite acceptable. My son was already very knowledgeable, so he and my wife often traveled around the area, including into Rome itself. He really thrived there — he loved history and music, and in Rome, he was in wonderland. There were a lot of Poles in the camp. Every week, a plane full of Poles flew to see the Pope — John Paul II at the time — and half of them would stay in Rome, so the plane always came back half empty! Generally, we managed quite well in the camp. There was one American woman who taught English, and somehow we befriended her, so she got me a funny job: I worked as the camp librarian, lending books. It was actually paid work, so we could buy chewing gum and extra fruit for the kids. My wife started out doing cleaning work, but thanks to that same American woman, she later got a job at the Canadian embassy, where she handled documents for Czech and Polish refugees. So those three months went by pretty fast.

Where did you learn English so well in Czechoslovakia?
I had English first in high school, and later, when our assignment to Zambia was approved, I took an English course and also studied during a month-long tropical diseases course in Prague.

Had you chosen Canada as your target destination beforehand, or did that come up while you were in the refugee camp in Italy?
My wife’s half-brother had gone to Canada earlier, as had several other acquaintances. I wasn’t very keen on the United States, and South Africa looked pretty risky given the political situation. (laughs) And Australia was simply too far away. So Canada was number one for us.

In many emigration stories, secrecy plays a key role — often even the closest relatives don’t know the plan. Was it the same for you?
No one knew we were planning to leave. Absolutely no one, not even close family. We only told them after we were already gone, so nobody could be persecuted. Since we were supposed to be going to a developing country, we had a perfect cover story. We were just “leaving for Zambia,” and that was that. Honestly, no one had the slightest idea.

What did you leave behind?
Not much... That’s another reason Zambia was a good cover up. I sold the car, gave away a few things we had at home, saying I wouldn’t need them for two years anyway. But we did lose our little cottage in Čížov and our garage... After the Velvet Revolution, lawyers wrote to us saying they could help us get them back, but my wife didn’t want to. That was a mistake — we probably could have gotten them returned. Today, that cottage would be worth a fortune, but there’s no point in looking back now.

Since you had to go through this “refugee selection process,” did you already have a job or housing arranged in Canada before you arrived?
Not at all! It was really a leap into the unknown. We had two personal interviews at the Canadian embassy, where they screened everyone before approving them. They asked what we’d like to do and where we’d like to live. We said we wanted to continue as doctors, but otherwise didn’t care where. They said the biggest need was in Newfoundland, so we said, “Fine, let’s go to Newfoundland!” But starting to practice medicine in Canada is not an easy thing... Today, it’s different, but back then it was tough — hard work, a year of study, and so on.

What did it mean to Canadians that you were a gynecologist from Czechoslovakia, with two board certifications and fifteen years of experience?
Absolutely nothing! First, I had to get my degree recognized by taking an evaluation exam — about four hundred questions covering all medical disciplines. You had to score at least eighty-five percent to pass. That was one thing. Then, even if you passed, it depended on what opportunities were available. In Newfoundland, there was a serious shortage of doctors, so at first I worked under the supervision of a local gynecologist. After about a month, they decided I was fine. But then came another step — I spent the following years proving that I was fully qualified in Canada. So even though they respected my second certification, they basically told me to forget everything I had learned because “they do it differently.” Which wasn’t entirely true. Eventually, I found that with the knowledge I had and with what my boss taught me I was more than capable of working at their level. No big deal. Their techniques were a bit different — faster and more efficient — so I adopted them. Then came new systems, new equipment, new surgical technologies… It was fascinating, and I think I reached quite a solid level in the end. Nobody fired me, nobody jailed me, nobody sued me — not even once. And in Canada, going through your whole career without being sued once is a big success. So I retired with a clean sheet.

Professionally speaking, how would you compare the Canadian medical environment with that of Czechoslovakia at the time — including things like equipment?
Well, the equipment was excellent compared to what we had in Czechoslovakia back then. But I think we caught up with the West quite quickly later on, and today, if I compare Canada and the Czech Republic, the difference in quality of medical care is practically negligible. Medical care is big business, and back then they simply had money, so we doctors got everything we could wish for. Later, things got worse, and we started arguing more about how to allocate the funds, having to fight for certain things. But when we first arrived, the quality of care was high.

Did your emigration have any consequences back in Czechoslovakia, for your relatives or your colleagues?
No major consequences. No one was persecuted, no one was harassed, no one lost their job — everyone was fine. At the hospital, they just joked that “the comrade escaped to the West.” (laughs) My boss was interrogated, but he said he had no idea, that it was my personal decision and nothing to do with him — so he was fine, too. Some colleagues even supported us and were curious to see how we’d do on the exams, since another colleague from Znojmo had fled earlier and had to take hers three times. My wife and I both passed them easily on the first try.

Did you come into contact with other Czechs or Slovaks in Canada? I know many emigrants settled in Toronto, but Newfoundland is quite far from there...
We eventually settled in Corner Brook, where there were two orthopedic surgeons and one general surgeon from Slovakia, and a pediatrician from the Czech Republic. There was also another gynecologist from Brno, but he didn’t stay long — he went off to South Africa. Then he came back and later disappeared again, this time to England, to London, where, as far as I know, he stayed. So it was quite a friendly town for us.

That’s quite a few people — a small medical community from Czechoslovakia in a town of only a few thousand inhabitants...
Yes, though it’s not like we were best friends, but we met up and respected each other, as they say.

Did you stay in touch with what was happening in Czechoslovakia? Were you interested in events back home?
Oh, absolutely! I still follow everything closely and read Czech newspapers every day. I’ve been in close contact with my best friend ever since we left. Also with a few colleagues, and with my brother... We’ve been back to the Czech Republic many times.

With what feelings did you watch the revolutionary events of 1989 from Canada?
(laughs) I said to myself, “Hell, if I’d known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have fled anywhere!” Although, to be honest, it's very likely that after the revolution, as a comrade, I would have been severely punished.

Did you ever have moments in Canada when you regretted your decision to leave?
I wouldn’t say that. My daughter successfully completed medical school here and now works as an ophthalmologist, and my son studied law. So from that perspective, I can’t say I regret it. But I still like coming back to the Czech Republic — and I’m still Czech at heart. I’ll never be a Canadian.

How much did it help, in a new and foreign environment, that you and your wife were in it together — both doctors? Were you a source of support for each other during difficult times?
We had to be each other’s support… For example, when we were waiting for the results of the medical exams — that was incredibly stressful. If we had failed, we would have been in trouble and would have had to try again a year later. Surgery was stressful for me, too. When you operate, there’s always risk and doing it in a foreign country, on foreign patients, that was extremely stressful during the first months.

Did you spend your entire professional career in one hospital?
When I needed to prove that I was fully qualified, I spent a year doing an internship in St. John’s, also in Newfoundland. Those without full qualification earned ten to twenty percent less. After that internship, I spent another year in gynecology specialization, and only then could I return to Corner Brook, where I had full pay and spent the rest of my career.

After the revolution, did you ever consider returning to the Czech Republic? You had been in Canada for only about five years by then...
By that time, we had everything already set up here, so returning didn’t make sense. Not just because of the children, but for us as well. It’s hard to predict what would have happened, but as a former Party member, I might have been dismissed from my position anyway. Many were removed even in hospitals, so I could easily have shared the same fate.

After forty years in Canada, what do you miss most from the Czech Republic?
We’ve traveled a lot, I’ve seen places I never dreamed of: safaris in Africa, penguins in Antarctica, we’ve been to Australia, Papua New Guinea, South America… those are memories no one can take away. As for my Czech identity — since I follow the news every day, stay in close touch with my brother and my friends, and used to come back almost every year, I can’t really say I miss anything deeply. Traveling has become more difficult now because of my health, but I always return to the Czech Republic gladly, and we are always warmly welcomed by our friends.

How has moving from a communist dictatorship to a free Western country influenced your worldview? How do you see today’s Canada, which is often cited as a model of an advanced liberal society?
It is? Even today? (laughs) I don’t really want to talk about what’s happening in Canada now, because if I did, it wouldn’t sound very nice. But we still hope things will get better. I’ll live out my years somehow, but of course I think about what lies ahead, because the outlook isn’t very bright. Not in Europe either.

You mentioned your daughter is an ophthalmologist, and when we met in Brno, you were asking about possibilities of medical studies for your granddaughter, who, as you said, has been struggling to get into medical school in Canada, not because of her grades, but for other reasons. How is that going?
My granddaughter still hopes to study medicine. After four years at university, she earned a Bachelor’s degree in Medical Science with Honours and Distinction. Unfortunately, academic performance doesn’t play a major role in student selection. They prefer a “holistic” approach. She has applied three times and still hasn’t lost hope that she’ll be able to study her dream profession. (In Canada, entry to medical school — which leads to the title MD, Doctor of Medicine — comes only after completing a Bachelor’s degree in a relevant field, typically including biology, chemistry, or physics. One such program is Medical Science, focused on the scientific foundations of medicine. However, admission to MD programs is not based solely on academic results. Committees also consider factors such as motivation, communication skills, recommendations, volunteer experience, and sometimes the applicant’s background or community diversity — author’s note.)

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