Why is Ontario trying to force mentally injured cops back to work?When Bruce Kruger walks into a restaurant, he always requests a table near the wall, where he can sit with his back against it, facing the room.
It’s just one of the many coping measures the Bracebridge retiree, a former OPP detective inspector, manages living with post-traumatic stress disorder.
It took years to get that diagnosis. Kruger spent three decades as a cop experiencing multiple traumatic events. He shot and killed an escaped inmate poised to kill a fellow officer, was hit by a car driven by a suspect, witnessed a father and son drown and was first to the scene of his friend, murdered OPP Const. Richard Verdecchia.
Three months before retiring in 1999, Kruger came to terms with the fact that he was struggling mentally and retired early. Policing culture didn’t allow for conversations about mental health then, he said, and officers didn’t talk about what they saw because it was considered weak. Blood, death, trauma — that’s all part of the job, he and many others were told.
In 2002, he asked the OPP for help and was denied because he was retired.
Eventually he found support through the Canadian Armed Forces and in the years since, the battle to have operational stress injuries — as police call them — recognized and properly treated has been ongoing.
“I really push the envelope because no one else will,” he said.
At its June 2021 general meeting, the Ontario Association of Chiefs of Police passed two resolutions to the workers' compensation system citing “systemic issues” with the Workplace Safety and Insurance Board.
The changes were framed to “better support their members” and maintain “the operational and fiscal integrity of police organizations.”
As Kruger puts it, the changes are a “highly ill-conceived resolution that can’t be tolerated.”
“What they’re communicating to the injured officers is basically, we don’t trust you and we think you’re milking the system,” said Dr. Jonathan Douglas, a Barrie-based psychologist who works with Badge of Life Canada treating first responders.
In his experience, the culture of policing and the culture of WSIB is often at odds with psychology. Despite that relationship improving in recent years, he said this latest development shows it has “really hit a low point.”
In 2016, Douglas consulted on legislation that marked a turning point in the discussion: PTSD diagnosed in first responders was finally recognized as work-related, making available WSIB benefits and resources.
That created a logjam, he explained, as the number of first responders who came forward acknowledging their struggles increased.
“As stigma started to go down,” he said, “lo and behold, the number of claims started to increase.”
Then came the pandemic and the various mental health-related issues it triggered. Douglas expects that to increase the number of claims in the years ahead. “OACP is looking at these numbers and are horrified by them,” he said.
The status quo is a “burden on taxpayers” because of escalating costs and delays in adjudication and appeals, OACP said, claiming it has increased stress for employees and delayed their return to work.
Douglas takes issue with the language being used to communicate the changes. “They literally used the word ‘incentivized,’” he said.
“If someone is making enough money on WSIB, why would they go back? That is the definition of stigma right there.”
Treating a first responder who lives with PTSD is complex, he said. Early on, he often saw people on the eve of retirement — people like Kruger “who can see the finish line and they’re collapsing just before it.”
Now, he sees patients coming forward earlier in their career, desperate for treatment and to return to work, he said. “Work is not only a source of injury,” he explained, “it’s also a source of recovery. It’s part of the rehabilitation.”
The complexity lies in understanding that returning to a job like policing re-exposes you to trauma and a diagnosis like PTSD, cannot be cured, only managed. Sanctuary trauma, he said, is not having the support of your employer, constantly facing obstacles to get and maintain treatment without bullying or harassment.
The proposed changes also include suspended officers, which Kruger thinks is wrong. Those incidents should go through a separate appeals process, he said.
Misconduct that prompts officer suspensions can be attributed to untreated mental injuries, Douglas points out. Tardiness, absence, the effects of alcohol or drug abuse and anger management can all play out on the front lines.
In April 2021, the OPP pledged $12.5 million over three years to hire more mental health support staff for police and their families and Douglas admits he has seen a shift in its approach to mental health.
In a letter to Kruger, the OPP Association described being “deeply disappointed” with OACP’s position saying it reinforces stereotypes about mental health and undoes years of work to better assist those in need.
Mark Baxter, president of the Police Association of Ontario, called the OACP’s position “ludicrous and repulsive.”
“We don't ask someone to remove a cast from a broken leg before it's healed; why would we do the same for an injury that is not physically 'visible?'” Baxter said.
The implications are real. In 2018, nine police officers died by suicide in Ontario, an “unprecedented” number, according to the report it prompted from the Office of the Chief Coroner the following year.
As a result, the coroner now tracks first responder deaths. In 2019, seven police officers died by suicide and, in 2020, four took their lives, according to its preliminary data.
“We need to stop it now before it gets to the government,” Kruger said of the resolutions. “We’re going to create more deaths and more heartache for families.”
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