RIP: Dr. Sheela Basrur

[phishtaper]

Dr. Sheela Basrur, 51: Guided city through SARS

In the darkest days of Toronto's fight against SARS, when people were dying and thousands more were quarantined prisoners in their homes, a small, mighty woman took control of the worst public health disaster to grip this city in years.

Standing barely 5 feet tall, Dr. Sheela Basrur was the calm voice of reason as people fell sick from a never before seen flu-like illness, prompting the World Health Organization to slap a devastating travel advisory against Toronto.

"None of us knew the situation, everybody was maxed out," said Liz Janzen, Basrur's colleague and friend from Toronto Public Health. "But she was able to talk about it, explain it and go out and express it in a way people could hear."

Basrur, the first woman of colour to be named both Toronto's chief medical officer of health in 1998 and then Ontario's in 2004, died yesterday after losing her struggle with a rare form of cancer. She was 51.

"Her way of communicating connected with people," said Janzen. "I remember going to her when things were very difficult and she'd sit on the edge of her seat, upright, and she'd listen. People here loved her."

She was a role model to many – a busy, single working mom. Her daughter, Simone, spent hours playing at her side, waiting to go home or out to a movie.

"Many a time Simone had to sit in her mom's office. I'd take her out for lunch or bring her a treat," said Janzen. "Simone was very patient. She showed her mother's stamina."

That stamina, in a woman often described as a "diminutive dynamo," helped Basrur as she put on a brave face during treatment for leiomyosarcoma, a rare vascular cancer that began in her uterus and spread to her spine, liver and lungs.

She carried on with her life, making public appearances and talking to the media. When Basrur showed up at Queen's Park in December 2006 to hear the announcement of a new Ontario Agency for Health Protection and Promotion, the province's first arm's-length public health agency, MPPs gave her a standing ovation.

This spring, she rallied against the disease. Basrur answered calls from journalists and well-wishers and posed for a cover shoot for the May/June issue of Desi Life magazine.

"This is a sad day," said federal Health Minister Tony Clement, who was provincial health minister during the 2003 SARS crisis. He got to know Basrur well then, attending round-the-clock meetings and news conferences together.

"We had to rely on her every hour of every day," Clement said. "She was part of the public face of getting our message out on how we would fight the outbreak and she was integrally involved in strategy meetings morning, noon and night. She never lost her head."

Basrur's passing is everyone's loss, said Dr. Don Low, microbiology chief at Mount Sinai Hospital. "Everyone knew it was coming but it is so hard," said Low, who became a friend and colleague during the SARS crisis which claimed 44 Toronto lives. "It was during those tough times at the beginning, when no one knew what we were dealing with, she was the calm and confidence that got the message across."

But it was after she became Ontario's chief medical officer of health in 2004 that Basrur really shone.

"That was such an overwhelming task she agreed to take on and she did it because (Health Minister George) Smitherman asked her to," Low said. "It was hard to say no. I don't think it was something she was anxious to do but she was called upon. Public health in Ontario had been neglected for years. She reorganized it. Got the troops fired up and made people proud of what they were doing."

The daughter of immigrants who arrived from India in the 1950s, Basrur was born in Toronto and grew up in Guelph.

Science was always part of her life. Her mother, Pari Basrur, was a veterinary genetics professor and her father, Vasanth Basrur, a radiation oncologist. Growing up, Basrur recalled being the only minority family in town at the time and creating a stir when she and her sari-clad mother walked down the street.

"She understood being a woman of colour in her position was important and that faces are reflected in our power structure," said Janzen.

Basrur graduated from the University of Toronto with a medical degree in 1982. The next year, she bought an around-the-world plane ticket and headed for Europe, Nepal and India. It was in the latter two countries where she saw the importance of preventive health practices. She became convinced that public health was where she could make the most difference.

"I saw in very stark relief some of the health-care rationalization choices that can plague patients, as well as doctors and governments," Basrur said recently. "It smacked me squarely in the face."

When Basrur explained to people why she found public health so important to society, she would often tell a story of people drowning in a river, said Janzen. "When you are downstream, you see people in the water and you drag them out but they keep coming. But you go up the river and you find out why they swam down the stream. That is why she went into public health."

In addition to SARS, Basrur deftly led the charge on other public health campaigns. In 2001, she spearheaded DineSafe, the first program of its kind in Canada, which required restaurants to post health inspection pass or fail results in their windows. She was instrumental in implementing a city-wide smoking ban in 2004. She also devised a city plan to tackle bioterrorism post-9/11.

Outspoken and independent-minded, Basrur refused to back down on issues she cared about, even earning the admiration of those with whom she had tangled.

Though she lived in Scarborough, Basrur opted to be treated in Kitchener to be closer to her parents. She leaves her daughter Simone, 17, and her only sibling, sister Jyothi.

A private funeral is planned and a public memorial will be held at a later date. Donations can be made in her memory to the Grand River Hospital Foundation in Kitchener.

A truly great woman. RIP Sheela.

[Deeps]

RIP Sheela.