Nineteen-sixty-five was an eventful year.
Lester Pearson was elected Prime Minister of Canada, defeating John Diefenbaker. Muhammad Ali knocked out Sonny Liston, producing an iconic photo. The Catholic Church began allowing Mass in languages other than Latin.
That same year, a young physician fresh out of the University of Ottawa by the name of Earle Potvin arrived in Shawville to begin his career. The rest is history.
On Sunday afternoon, the surgical wing at the Pontiac Hospital was named in Dr. Potvin’s honour after 57 years of service to the community. A reception followed at the Little Red Wagon winery, where dozens of friends and family gathered to tell stories, and reminisce about the mark he left on local health care.
Prior to the wall unveiling, Dr. Potvin spoke to his assembled family and colleagues and said his arrival in the area as a young physician was a happy accident.
“Coming to the Pontiac was a stroke of good luck,” he recalled. “I didn’t know what was happening. We had no money, Bonnie and I. She was a nurse, and a nurse isn’t paid enough, yet.”
“Never did I ever think that what I was doing was that important,” he concluded.
The news of Dr. Potvin’s arrival made the front page of THE EQUITY in September 1965.
“Dr. Potvin has found the Pontiac Community Hospital staff very helpful, excellent in fact, and has told THE EQUITY they are ‘a good crew to work with,’” it reads.
Dr. Thomas O’Neill, a local anesthesiologist and a colleague of Dr. Potvin’s for more than 40 years, told a story about one particularly memorable home visit when Potvin first arrived. Local Ford dealer Ray Sheppard had lent him a shiny black car to test drive on the way to see a patient in Bristol. Returning with a urine sample on the dash, the young doctor unfortunately put the car in the ditch and required the help of a local farmer to get back on the road.
“He attached a chain to the back of the vehicle and pulled it out, unfortunately removing the exhaust at the same time,” O’Neill said. “Driving back [ . . . ] this black car is now a grey colour, it smells of urine, and it sounds like a second world war Panzer tank. So he drives into see Ray Sheppard expecting hell. He says “Not a problem doc, we’ll have it all fixed up before you know it.’ To this day I’ve never seen Earle in anything but a Ford vehicle.”
Potvin settled into the Pontiac region as a general practitioner with his young family but quickly assessed that the community needed a surgeon, and left in 1972 for four years to train in Ottawa.
Dr. William Potvin, Earle’s eldest son, spoke on behalf of the family and said that his father’s decision to travel to the city to upgrade his skillset wasn’t an easy one with four young boys and a wife at home.
“It can’t be understated, it wasn’t easy, leaving behind his young family and his patients, but he did it because he saw what the community needed,” the junior Dr. Potvin said. “And true to his nature, he came back, bringing with him knowledge and skill that would go on to save countless lives here. Shawville, and by extension the whole Pontiac, has always been more than a place where he lived, more than a place where he worked. It’s where he belonged.”
Dr. O’Neill said that Potvin kept expanding his training based on what was needed, from obstetrics and gynecological procedures to orthopedics and plastic surgery. He pointed out that Potvin’s complication rate for major surgeries was well below the average, a testament to his excellent abilities.
Dr. William Potvin said his dad’s love for his craft was evidenced by his vast skillset, which made him both a lynchpin for the hospital, and also incredibly difficult to replace.
“He jokes, because I’m a family doctor, that he found being a GP too stressful,” he told THE EQUITY. “He did general surgery, c-sections, plastics, trauma, I mean it’s hard for the layperson to understand, but when he retired they don’t train physicians like him anymore. It’s not a skillset that exists anymore. To try and recreate that took five different surgeons.”
Prior to the wall unveiling, the CEO of regional health authority CISSSO, Dr. Marc Bilodeau, thanked Dr. Potvin for his service, calling him a “surgeon of great skill and humanity.”
“As the President CEO of the CISSS de l’Outaouais, I consider it my responsibility and obligation to take every opportunity to express my appreciation for the excellent work carried out by our health care professionals,” he said.
Shawville mayor Bill McCleary and MRC Pontiac warden Jane Toller were on hand for the presentation, and Nicole Boucher-Larivière, the CISSSO’s Pontiac manager, said they approached her after a citizen requested something be done to honour Dr. Potvin’s career. Having known Dr. Potvin since she was 17 years-old, growing up friends with the Potvin boys, she handled preparations along with Dr. O’Neill.
Natalie Romain, the administrative clinical coordinator at the Pontiac Hospital and a colleague of Potvin’s for nearly 35 years, recalled being in awe of him when she was starting her nursing career. As she rose through the ranks to be an assistant head nurse, taking notes when Potvin did his rounds, she grew to know the man behind the legend.
“I remember being in awe of his knowledge, his calm presence, and most of all the deep respect he showed for every patient,” she said. “I also remember being so intimidated by him. After all, I was only a young nurse still wet behind the ears.”
Romain said Potvin often got away with behaviour that others could only dream of, which caused some anxiety when she moved into management and was in charge of enforcing rules. She recalled her husband, also a hospital employee, running into Potvin at work, in an anecdote that exemplified his silly side.
“He said, ‘Oh, I saw Dr. Potvin today. I was in the elevator with him,’ to which I replied, ‘Please, please, please do not tell me he was smoking in the elevator. I don’t want to know.’”
Potvin interjected with a quick (and unconvincing) “Wasn’t me,” to much laughter.
“To which my husband replied, ‘No, no, Dr. Potvin just said, ‘Hey you’re Natalie’s husband right?’ ‘Yes I am.’ ‘Well I’m the big cheese around here,’ that’s what he replied to my husband. No truer words have ever been spoken.”
Romain said that the dedication of the surgical unit was a long time coming.
“I’m originally from the Pontiac, and for me to see this, having worked alongside this great man and knowing some of the stories, just to see him finally recognized, it warms my heart,” she said. “I’ve always been proud to be working at the Shawville Hospital, it makes me even prouder to see this.”
There were also many fond memories retold of Potvin’s beloved wife Bonnie (née Fetterly) who passed away in 2017. Many co-workers recalled the parties that the couple would throw at their home for the operating room staff.
“There was never a Dr. Potvin without Bonnie,” said Trenna Derouin, a nurse who worked for 37 years at the Pontiac Hospital, 27 of those in the OR with Dr. Potvin. “Bonnie made us feel welcome as well and opened her home to us and we adored her very much.”
Romain recalled one time early in her career when ‘Dr. P’ asked her if she was married yet, and she jokingly replied that she was waiting to marry a doctor.
“He said, ‘Don’t do it. It takes a special woman to marry a doctor, you just ask my wife.’ And I think he was right.”
Derouin added that in addition to being a dear colleague for years, the nature of Dr. Potvin’s work was far more intimate than other professions, even within the medical field.
“I’m thankful for him being a general practitioner, as he delivered my husband,” she said. “I’m thankful for him being a general surgeon as he delivered my son by cesarean-section on the 28th of December, which I believe is his anniversary or very close to it. So when he got the call on a stormy night in December, he never said anything to me that night but later on he kept reminding me, ‘Do you realize that I got called in for your c-section on my anniversary?’”
The afternoon’s reception continued on with many stories and laughs, including highlighting Potvin’s passions for growing giant pumpkins, fireworks of questionable legality, and serving with the local Lions Club. His deepest passion however, was clearly for his family, who were well represented in the crowd.
Earle’s grandson David spoke about the kind of person his “g-pa” was, noting that despite such a heavy workload, he was a family man at his core.
“I’m sure that there were a lot of sacrifices that g-pa had to make, and g-ma had to make, as anybody who does anything really exceptional with their career has to, but as his grandchildren we didn’t feel any of that,” he said. “We grew up in an extremely warm house with our g-ma and g-pa, and g-pa was very active in our lives at Christmases, Thanksgivings, Easters [ . . . ] We never felt you were missing.”
Potvin’s son Derek recalled how they all adapted to the chaotic schedule of a rural surgeon, who for much of his career was on call 24/7. One Christmas Derek was out shoveling snow and asked his father about his work day when he returned. The answer was, “Derek I feel alive.”
“On Christmas, father did his rounds every year, no matter what time we got up on Christmas, we couldn’t open any gifts until he had gone to the hospital and done his rounds,” he said. “Often enough with the things that he was doing, because he was the only surgeon, Christmas morning turned into Christmas lunch, turned into Christmas evening or sometimes even later. It was not something we regretted or held as a negative. It’s just that was our life as the son of a rural surgeon.”
With hundreds of years of Pontiac health care experience gathered in one room, attendees were invited to reflect on the impact Dr. Potvin’s legacy will have on the next generation of Pontiac doctors and health care professionals.
“It’s fitting that his name will live on in the surgical wing where his hands and heart made such a difference over the many years,” said son Dr. William Potvin. “Dad never sought recognition. He was always more comfortable in the operating room than in the spotlight. But today we get to put his name on the walls as a reminder of what true service looks like. The surgical wing will carry not only his name, but the legacy of his skill, kindness and unwavering commitment to the people of the Pontiac. I hope that generations to come, young doctors, nurses and patients will see that name and be inspired by what it represents. A life spent in service to others.”
