Badly kept residency records, and Canadian license


On the list I’m making the checks,

I sent for my scores from the FLEX.

There’s loads of email

But the process could fail

On the training of the feminine sex.

Synopsis: I’m a Family Practitioner from Sioux City, Iowa. In 2010 I danced back from the brink of burnout, and honoring a 1 year non-compete clause, travelled and worked in out-of-the-way places in Alaska, Nebraska, Iowa, and New Zealand. After three years working with a Community Health Center, I am back having adventures in temporary positions until they have an Electronic Medical Record (EMR) system I can get along with. I spent the winter in Nome, Alaska, followed by assignments in rural Iowa. This summer included a funeral, a bicycle tour in Michigan, cherry picking in Iowa, a medical conference in Denver, and working Urgent Care in suburban Pennsylvania. Any patient information has been included with permission.

I find myself in the process of applying for a Canadian license, specifically for British Columbia.

I want to experience the Canadian system first hand, and compare it to the realities of the current US system.  Then I want to write about it.

That Canada has a national electronic credential depository called PhysiciansApply.ca makes sense.  I suppose I should have looked more carefully to find the SHARE DOCUMENTS button.  Today I found it and used it.

I don’t blame them for wanting letters from my employers for the last three years, documenting scope of practice and hours.  But how would that work if I had been self-employed during that time?  Actually, I was self-employed during that time; I got pay checks from the locum tenens agencies but as an independent contractor.  Positive they didn’t want me verifying myself, I sent emails off to the agencies.  All of them.

In the summer of 1979, I took a 3 day examination called the FLEX in downtown Denver, Colorado.  About 250 well-educated doctors came together in a cavernous hall.   All the other tests I’d taken up until then counted for nothing more than practice.  I remember that every 45 minutes or so I would have to put down my pencil and shut my eyes for 30 seconds so that I would start caring about the test again.

The Canadians want the original score from that test, and I suppose I can see their point.  I got that task done with a brief Internet search and a credit card outlay of $70.

The licensing process may very well fail on the faded records from my residency.  I had 18 weeks training in Obstetrics, but gynecology didn’t warrant any kind of mention.    And the College of Physicians and Surgeons of British Columbia wants to make sure I had adequate training.  Even though 90% of what I learned then is now incomplete, hopelessly out of date, or just plain wrong.

I spent a long morning on the phone and at the computer, making calls, leaving voice mails, asking for letters and certifications.  Without exception, the Canadians I talked to were polite, friendly, professional, and well-trained.  Their gentle reassurance carried the message that things would be fine, and my license will happen.

I keep an open mind.  If this adventure doesn’t work out, something else will.

I lunched with a colleague who works ER.  I picked his brain for stories of real major trauma.  While we talked about medications, management, techniques and tools, we couldn’t escape the discussion of drama, irony, and tragedy in the face of human bodies damaged by the inevitable truth of physical laws.

 

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