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Lorimer Dods 1900-1981
I am delighted to be here this afternoon for the Lorimer awards and to share with you some of my
memories of Sir Lorimer. For many of the younger members of staff the only visual image you probably
have of Lorimer is the rather forbidding portrait of him which hangs on the stairs outside the Library. That
dark, thunderous image is not at all like the Lorimer we knew.
A much truer depiction is the relaxed but thoughtful person in the portrait by Judy Cassab which hangs in
the foyer of the CMRI and portrays him as gentle and benevolent.
My earliest recollection of Sir Lorimer is when I was a medical student in the late 1950s. We had a block of
paediatric lectures in the summer term at the end of our 4th year. For students then, and probably also
now, there were many off-campus attractions in summer terms ... the harbour, the beach, tennis maybe, ...
but everyone always came to Lorimer’s lectures.
He would always start with a patient. His registrar, many of whom are seen in the photo taken in 1960 at
the time of his retirement from the Chair of Paediatrics and Child Health, would bring the patient and
mother into the lecture theatre. Lorimer would talk about the child, sometimes demonstrate a physical
sign, fumble in his pocket for a gift for the child, and proceed with the lecture after the child had been
taken out. There was something in his attitude and in the way he presented these cases, his clarity, humour
and gentleness, which made them memorable and wonderful teaching exercises.
Part of Lorimer’s ability as a teacher and a role model was his sense of the dramatic. He always knew his
lines, was well rehearsed and had great timing. He made every student and every young resident feel that
they would like to become a paediatrician – and many did so. He encouraged these young people to subspecialise, although he frequently referred to himself as “just the old family doctor”, often underplaying his
own expertise and alluding to his time as a general practitioner in Edgecliff.
From the mid-1960s I was fortunate to work closely with Lorimer in the recently established Children’s
Medical Research Foundation (CMRF), which was in the old physios’ cottage at the back of the hospital.
Lorimer seemed to have a special ability to encourage, praise and guide. When I confessed I was terrified at
the prospect of making my first scientific presentation at a meeting of the College of Physicians as we
travelled downtown together in a taxi, his advice was “just keep smiling at them and all will be well” ...
and it was. He was convinced of the need for research and the value of research experience even for
committed clinicians. He pioneered the appointment of the first paediatric surgical research fellows in
Australia, and the building of a fully equipped surgical research lab and operating theatre.
What are the highlights from my recollections of Lorimer? His wonderful sense of humour and fun, ... his
devotion to Lady Margo, ... his pleasure when “grown-up” patients (“grown-up” was a term he used in
many contexts) returned to see him ... and especially I remember his joy when one of his patients who was
an early survivor of salt-wasting adrenogenital hyperplasia had her first baby, and when a 17-year-old
young man with cyanotic congenital heart disease had successful palliative surgery and proceeded to grow
some inches in height.
I also remember the controversy over his 1972 paper entitled A Time to Die in which he bravely, for the
time, put forward the arguments for what we would now accept as appropriate palliative care, especially as
he put it particularly in the context of the very ill neonate or child with terminal malignancy. But this
proposition received hostile Media coverage, which he gently but firmly continued to refute for many
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months, while the Media portrayed him as the trusted doctor who was prepared to cease curative
treatment and allow children to die.
And I remember his desperate sadness when his own 18-year-old grandson drowned. And how, despite
this, he again bravely faced the Media as an advocate for accident prevention and water safety.
What else can I remember? Much of this you have heard before. He was an excellent speaker, always
carefully prepared and often humorous. He frequently wrote letters in an indecipherable hand on blue
paper. These often quoted the classics or lapsed into Latin. One of his obituaries noted that these letters
were “always appreciated and frequently treasured”.
And finally, he was almost always referred to by friends and colleagues as “dear Lorimer”.
What did I learn from Lorimer? So very many things:
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a good history depends on good rapport and knowing the right questions to ask. If you are stumped
and can’t make a diagnosis, go back and take the history again. Do it yourself.
If a mother thinks a child is ill or that her child’s condition has changed, she is very likely to be
correct.
The greater the clinician and teacher the more humble he or she is likely to be.
I believe Lorimer would have been so pleased, and in his own way just a little amused, to know that the
Discipline of Paediatrics and Child Health is rewarding teaching excellence in his name.
Margaret Burgess
December 2010