Published On:Monday, July 26, 2010

By AVA TURNQUEST

Tribune Staff Reporter

aturnquest@tribunemedia.net

WHEN I first approached the consequence of expansion at the Princess Margaret Hospital I thought there was only one casualty, the Bahamas Crisis Centre.

It was made clear, until last week, the centre had until July 30 to evacuate so that its building could be demolished to make way for new operating theatres at the hospital.

After 37 years, several swings of the economic pendulum paired with a staunch neglect of the deterioration to the nuclear family have produced an ever increasing crime rate. Thus making it impossible to deny or dispute the centre's critical relevance in our community and disturbing to learn the centre could not find alternate accommodations.

This non-profit organization had been housed at Knowles House on the grounds of Princess Margaret Hospital for nearly three decades. The leaders of this country had less than 10 years of Independence under their belts when Dr Sandra Dean-Patterson, sought to create and sustain a refuge for victims of abuse.

The demolition wasn't a surprise to Dr Dean-Patterson or her team. They'd always known Knowles House was destined for destruction, but hoped the lengthy discourse over the redevelopment of the hospital would keep an eviction notice at bay. It was their choice to leave their accommodations up to fate, but where else would they have been allowed to practise rent-free, and in such close proximity to their direct clients?

Despite the thousands of lives healed by this centre, it seemed unimaginable that in just a few days it would be forced to disrupt service, and be indefinitely displaced.

Even more stifling, why wasn't anyone making any noise about it?

If a tree falls in an empty forest, does it make a sound? For a lengthy period last year, the non-native trees at Saunders Beach rose to an incredible volume amidst those that listened. The list of riled up naysayers ranged from columnists to politicians to artists.

Did we assume because Dr Dean-Patterson was so resourceful in establishing the centre and securing its operation over the years that there was no need to worry? Admittedly, the decades of commitment, dedication and passion, give her an admirable advantage over the destructive nature of casuarina trees.

No, I didn't grasp the full promise of the consequences which would force the centre's relocation until I was approached by a doctor during a visit to Knowles House.

Demolition

He asked if I knew about the pending demolition and I said yes and immediately launched into concerns for the future of the crisis centre.

"Yes," he said. "But even before that, do you know the history of these buildings?"

His question stumped me. I didn't know the history, but more importantly, I hadn't even considered its relevance.

The need for facility upgrades at PMH is so blindingly essential, it is not a surprise there have been little to no objections towards the course of action taken to achieve it. It was then I realized the compound of the Princess Margaret Hospital, formerly the Bahamas General Hospital, was an empty forest.

Also to be demolished alongside Knowles House is Huggins Lodge. Both buildings are of the last remaining remnants of the first hospital in the Bahamas.

Built in the 1920s as the private medical ward, years later Huggins Lodge was named after Dr Leonard Catesby Huggins. There were no other hospitals at that time, so by private medical ward, this means that anyone who wished to give birth or receive medical treatment privately, was attended to here - if not in their private homes.

Dr Leonard Huggins, born in Trinidad in 1901 of Chinese descent, came to the Bahamas in 1926 to join the Bahamas medical service and served as a medical officer in Inagua, Exuma, Long Island and Bimini.

In 1940 he joined the staff of the Bahamas General Hospital and was appointed senior surgical specialist at the Princess Margaret Hospital in 1960 and often served as Chief Medical Officer of that institution. He retired from government service in 1963 to go into private practice and made his home on Collins Avenue. He was made an Officer of the British Empire (OBE) in 1960 and received the Sir Victor Sassoon Golden Heart Award in 1973. On his death, on January 12, 1992, he was described as an "an untiring man devoted to medicine."

To commemorate his memory the private ward of the former Bahamas General Hospital was named for him.

I would probably be correct in saying that Huggins Lodge as the once private ward was the birthplace of many in our nation. Would it make a difference if we dug deep and uncovered the names of those born there? With just a little more than a month left before demolition was initially scheduled, and none of the truly concerned willing or able to speak on record, I think it is already a wasted effort.

It has to make a sound.

Where are the voices for Huggins Lodge and Knowles House, named after the late Hubert Knowles, MBE, for many years superintendent of the Princess Margaret Hospital?

Balance

The voices unrestricted by employment or compromised due to special interest. In this, the new modern Bahamas, is there nothing that can be done to achieve balance? I'm having a hard time accepting that the omission of our past is the benchmark to our future.

History aside, the demolition of Huggins Lodge will displace three government clinics, namely the comprehensive clinic for sexually transmitted diseases and infections, HIV and AIDS treatment.

Demolition now proves to be a multi-faceted problem, one with possibly infinite casualties.

There is no shortage of stigmas in the Bahamas, possibly two of the greatest stigmas concern mental and sexual health. A freshly abused victim, albeit rape or gang violence as is so prevalent now, can walk the short steps from the hospital to the crisis centre and receive immediate counsel. These are victims who would have otherwise, gone home and disregarded their need to mentally heal. The sentiment is doubled, as you can imagine, for the comprehensive HIV/AIDS clinic.

Nurses and outreach counselors testify to having to walk patients to therapy, just to ensure they get the critical psychological assessment.

Desperate to understand how such a magnanimous task could be still in its infantile stages this close to scheduled demolition, I sought clarity from the demolitionists, the Public Hospitals Authority (PHA).

Herbert Brown, managing director of the PHA, told me the site was essential to the construction of three new operating theatres, and the PHA had explored all possible avenues in hopes of avoiding demolition.

He said: "In the overall redevelopment at PMH many buildings were demolished and Knowles House was declared sometime ago as unsafe for occupancy. But under no circumstances will we have them moved and not find suitable place for them to go. Demolition hinges on finding suitable accommodations, firstly for the services we provide and also we are looking at what we can do to assist the Bahamas Crisis Centre.

"We can't delay indefinitely, but the buildings will not be demolished until suitable accommodations are found."

Though reassuring for the Crisis Centre, which receives only a government subvention and survives from private donations and fundraising efforts, this mandate was stark in comparison to the bewildered concerns of the medical staff at Huggins Lodge, who bemoan the fact that they have been unable to tell their patients where to return for follow-up visits past July 30.

The term "suitable accommodations" does not echo the fears of AIDS counselors who predict the comprehensive clinic's assimilation into the main hospital will ostracize patients to the point of denying treatment. Senior nurses at the clinic witness inevitable breaches in confidentiality and lack of privacy [in the main hospital] every day and are strongly opposed to losing the anonymity Huggins Lodge provides.

They insist the old buildings are not dilapidated but evidence of years of neglect and poor maintenance.

Expansion

Mr Brown explained: "The expansion will greatly reduce waiting times for surgeries at PMH and effect a one hundred per cent increase in efficiency. In total there will be seven brand new operating theatres which will be capable of providing - for the first time - all support services required in one location.

"The main building itself is historic. When we make improvements, we are careful it does not change the overall history of the facility. We have to create a balance between providing care and the improvement of care - to which patients are entitled and demand. We are very cognizant of the historic nature of PMH and [the public] can be assured we will try to ensure that we won't lose that history."

Mr Brown assured me that the intent for demolition was not to achieve greater parking, but to allow access to the construction site for equipment and materials. I believe him. However once the theatres are erected and construction equipment is cleared away, what will become of the vacant lot? Does it matter whether or not the means satisfied the end or the end satisfied the means?

Will there even be a placard marking the spot? Will our children, as we before them, with a parallel park be completely ignorant of the consequences of such convenience?

The Historic Buildings Act offers duty exemptions and up to a 20-year real property tax break for the restoration of historic buildings.

At a workshop to foster incentives for Property and Business Development held earlier this year, Mrs Janet Bostwick, former MP and the first woman sworn into the House of Assembly, noted that the rules that protected listed buildings discouraged preservation. Like everything else in this country, she suggested the rules be reformed as existing regulations could change the historical significance of the buildings after renovation/restoration and exempt them from tax concessions.

Could it be that in actuality, unlike wine, these buildings are ticking steadily towards an expiration date? Falling so deep into disrepair that they can no longer serve as accurate landmarks of the past? And if they are on a protected list, why are they allowed to disintegrate to such an extent before something is done? All too common is the opportunist Lorax come to claim national spotlight through feigned concern of already too-far-gone circumstances.

Though, for me, it only adds to an already thick plot of ill-preparedness and inadequate planning, some may find solace in a recent letter to the PHA from the AMMC Chairman Colin Saunders.

The letter, dated July 20, informs Mr Brown of the historic designation of Huggins Lodge and Knowles House as national monuments.

It reads: "The Corporation is aware of your urgent need for the spaces and facilities specified for new construction and the implication in maintaining the two resources within the proposed construction zone.

Visitors

However, the Corporation holds strongly to its mandate to have tangible aspects of our history preserved for the varied wholesome benefits of our people as well as visitors to our islands."

I received the document well after my meeting with Mr Brown, however his omission of the AMMC's last minute decision, while taking care to inform me that the two bodies were in conference, is only slightly worrying in light of what seems to be a completely overlooked historical gaffe and the sorely needed medical upgrades.

Does intent truly matter? We could go on for days about actions and concerns that should have been initiated years ago, but what remains is the critical need for new operating theatres and like modern amenities juxtaposed against our obligation to acknowledge and preserve past achievements. The fact that the PHA has pledged to delay demolition until the centre and clinics are reasonably housed means nothing to the people whose memories of Knowles House and Huggins Lodge predate the lives of the governing generation. The possibility of those buildings being declared protected sites by the AMMC means nothing to the families of surgical patients negatively affected by the current operational challenges. There are no spoils in compromise, and perhaps we should stop constructing, stop demolishing, stop modernizing until we come to a consensus on the relevancy of physical remnants and the integrity of record-keeping. We need to have a set standard because on an island of this size, space will always be an issue.

* SEE PAGE ONE

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