The weight of $600,000 feels crushing, but it’s not the money itself that keeps me awake at night. It’s the chilling message this dispute sends to every doctor, every healthcare worker, who might hesitate to act boldly during the next crisis. It began with a simple, desperate need: getting vaccines into arms, quickly, as COVID-19 tightened its grip on our community.
In late 2021, Kingston faced a surging pandemic and the looming threat of the Omicron variant. We didn’t have time for bureaucracy. We needed solutions, and we needed them now. I mobilized a team – medical students, dedicated volunteers, and local partners – to create large-scale vaccination clinics at St. Lawrence College, Richardson Stadium, and other accessible locations.
Over those frantic months, we administered over 35,000 doses, transforming Kingston into one of Ontario’s most vaccinated regions. Politicians and public health officials urged us to be innovative, to move fast, to protect our people. We delivered. We answered the call with everything we had, fueled by a shared sense of urgency and a commitment to our community.
Years later, an audit arrived. The province determined that because medical students assisted and the clinics weren’t held within the confines of my office, the work didn’t align with decades-old billing rules – rules crafted long before anyone envisioned mass, drive-through vaccination events. The order came: repay approximately $600,000.
This wasn’t simply about profit. Those funds covered the essential costs of keeping our community safe: staffing, supplies, logistics, and the tireless efforts of those who braved the cold to administer vaccines. My appeal to the Health Services Appeal and Review Board (HSARB) was denied. The strict letter of a 2001 bulletin, they concluded, justified the demand for repayment. Rules, it seemed, mattered more than the reality of a public health emergency.
Now, the Ontario Divisional Court is considering whether that decision was just and lawful. But this case has become something far bigger than a billing dispute. It has resonated with the community, sparking a wave of support and raising a critical question: what happens when doing the right thing is punished?
Kingston City Council passed a motion urging the province to reconsider, recognizing the clinics as innovative and essential. Our Medical Officer of Health publicly affirmed their safety and effectiveness, warning that penalizing this work could jeopardize future emergency responses. Over 10,000 people have signed a petition, and the issue has been repeatedly raised in the Legislature.
Colleagues across the province, even those uninvolved in my clinics, have expressed alarm. They understand the implications: $600,000 represents the cost of caring for a critically ill COVID patient in hospital, yet these clinics likely *prevented* countless such admissions. The public remembers, too. They remember the relief, the gratitude, the collective effort to keep Kingston safe.
It feels profoundly wrong to treat these clinics as a problem to be punished, rather than a service to be valued. This judicial review isn’t about rewriting policy; it’s about ensuring a decision was made lawfully. The larger question, however, rests with our elected leaders. What message are we sending to those who will be asked to respond in the next crisis?
Right now, the message is clear: step up creatively at your own risk. You may be judged against rules never designed for the situation, even if your work is publicly praised. You may be held personally responsible years later, even if you followed the spirit of public health guidance. And you may be forced to repay everything, plus interest.
The province has the power to set aside this repayment and recognize these clinics for what they were: necessary public health work. We need modern billing rules for emergencies, explicit protections for good-faith action during crises, and genuine collaboration with frontline clinicians in designing the systems we rely on.
People ask why I continue to fight. The answer is simple: my patients are here, my community is here, and my profession is here. If we allow this to stand, it will become a precedent, a cultural shift. When the next crisis arrives, do we want our doctors to remember that Ontario had their backs? Or that Ontario made them regret stepping up? I’m fighting for the answer that will protect us all.
