- Home
- Hansard & Papers
- Legislative Council
- 16 November 2004
Tribute to Dr Vernon Allen James
Printing Tips |
Print selected text
| Full Day Hansard Transcript
« Prior Item |
Item 38 of 41
| Next Item »
Page: 12857
The Hon. Dr ARTHUR CHESTERFIELD-EVANS [10.08 p.m.]: I pay tribute to Vernon Allen (VA) James, a surgeon of great note, who died on 7 July this year. VA was the eldest of five children whose father left when he was nine, and he felt a strong sense of responsibility to bring up his siblings. He was educated by State bursaries and attended Waverley College. He played rugby union for Eastern Suburbs and Eastwood rugby clubs, and was a winger for the Waratahs in 1950. He played rugby league for Norths. In 1952 he graduated from the University of Sydney and was a resident at Royal North Shore Hospital. He then became a general practitioner at Hunters Hills before practising at Shellharbour from 1956 to 1963, where he was known for his 2½-litre black Riley. He left Australia in 1965 to be a surgeon at St Andrews Hospital, Scotland, and then undertook vascular surgery in Liverpool, England.
He returned to Australia and became a general and vascular surgeon in 1968 in Port Kembla, Coledale, and Bulli, but not at Wollongong Hospital. He was well known for starting work at 6.30 a.m. and not finishing until 8.00 p.m. or 9.00 p.m. He could do nearly as much work in a day as some surgeons did in a week. I worked with him throughout 1978. He used to start work at 6.30 a.m. but he would not call me, so I used to get up in time to make sure that I did not miss starting work with him. He appreciated this, although he would not have said so. He was a very fast and impressive technical surgeon. He told the story that when he visited America a salesman said that his newfangled retractor could take 40 minutes off a gallbladder operation. VA said that that was impossible. The American looked at him and wondered why. The answer was that he took about 35 minutes to do a gallbladder operation, skin to skin, while at that time most American surgeons took about three hours.
He did not have resources for detailed surgery at Port Kembla Hospital so he raised the funds through Rotary and other organisations. Many of the ventilators had little plaques with the names of the donors. In this tiny intensive care unit, with relatively inexperienced residents and registrars, he relied on very experienced nurses as the young doctors rotated. I can remember listening to the noise of the ventilators late at night and I would be quite miffed when he would ring, speak to the nurse and hang up because he had the information he wanted; he did not need me. Nevertheless, I was conscious that the extra hours we worked made the difference between life and death in this poorly staffed hospital.
VA was a very honest man. He would tell patients what he had found and what their prognosis was. This was at a time when the pleasant lie was often substituted for the unpleasant truth. He was a kind man but he was devoid of mawkish sentimentality and he did not stand on ceremony. He had a lot of patients. He walked around quickly with a nurse behind him carrying a box of tissues, amongst other things. As a registrar I would try to get back to people who needed to talk, but time was short. I can remember an ex-Kangaroo rugby league player who had his urethra damaged by extensive surgery to try to remove what was probably terminal colon cancer. VA told the ex-Kangaroo that his condition was probably terminal and apologised for the fact that his catheter would have to stay in for some weeks.
For the next few weeks VA came in each day with a "Sorry, mate" because the man was embarrassed about the catheter. The ex-Kangaroo would say, "It's okay, mate", as he came to terms with his terminal diagnosis. It was classic male non-dialogue as the two of them cracked hardy—a glorious form of courage in a way, although that sort of thing is much frowned upon by psychologists. VA was very popular with his patients and did very well. I can remember one feisty dressmaker with the largest mammary augmentation I have ever seen, who had some complications from vascular surgery on her leg while she was in Sydney. As the professor came around with his huge entourage at the Sydney teaching hospital, St Vincent's, he made the mistake of asking the feisty patient how she was doing. She enumerated all the mistakes he and his staff had made, and she said, " I just want to go back to Port Kembla to see Dr James because he knows what he's doing and you don't". And she came back to Port Kembla to tell us the story.
VA was very innovative. He was using Doppler and drug company technologies for streptokinase when no-one else was using them. He had six patients with this. Everyone else was having trouble with uncontrolled bleeding and death. It was years before the protocol was taken up, and it is now used as a standard procedure. He fought with the administrators who wanted to close his beloved Port Kembla hospital, which he described as a "raped woman", and regarded the administrators who stole Port Kembla's equipment as little better than thieves. He lasted a while at Wollongong Hospital and then went to Newcastle, where his brother was an administrator. He finally retired to Mullumbimby, where he still did some work.
VA came back when the waiting lists were very long and the Carr Government was on a promise to shorten them. He was still extremely fast. He received the FRCS in 1965 and the FRACS in 1967, and he was awarded the Medal of the Order of Australia in 1984. But his greatest achievement was, when he returned to Wollongong weak with leukaemia, having the hospital operating theatres at Shellharbour named after him. He regarded that as his greatest triumph. He is survived by his second wife, Margaret, and his children, Robert, Maryanne, Allison, Allen and Rachel. He had a large funeral and his ashes were scattered in North Shellharbour Beach, where he loved to fish. [Time expired.]
Last modified 05/12/2007 16:41:52 : Update this page