Dr Robert Dick
Dr Robert Dick
Robert ‘Bob’ Dick, who died in April 2019, was a founding father of interventional radiology, past President of the British Society of Interventional Radiology (BSIR) and past President of the Royal Society of Medicine Radiology Section. He had also been a Vice-Dean of the Royal Free Hospital School of Medicine and a Chair of the Ethics Committee as well as a consultant radiologist at the Royal Free Hospital where he inspired a generation of medical students and doctors with his energetic, friendly and egalitarian approach.
Bob was born in Sydney Australia in 1937, to Mary Mercia and Dr Robert Dick. His father was a GP and his mother was one of the first women to train as a pharmacist in Australia. He was immersed in medicine from early days as his father’s GP practice operated from home and he frequently accompanied his father on house calls, waiting in the car while his father saw patients.
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7th November 1937 to 26th April 2019
After school at Riverview Jesuit College he studied Medicine at the University of Sydney and Royal North Shore Hospital and graduated in 1960 with the medal for first place in all subjects. He set off to the UK in 1966 as a ship’s surgeon on the SS Bendigo, to take up a radiological registrar post for Commonwealth graduates at the Middlesex Hospital. During this placement he passed the FRCR exam – and met (‘the greatest event of my life’) and married Diana Fairclough (a graduate of Guy’s Medical School). In 1967 they travelled together to Athens for 12 months so he could take up the post of Radiologist to the Australian Embassy, checking the chest X-rays of the many Greek migrants whom Australia was encouraging to settle. After posts at Kings College London, he was appointed consultant radiologist at the Royal Free Hospital in 1971 where he had the good fortune to work with the legendary hepatologist, Professor (later Dame) Sheila Sherlock. It was also the time of the birth of what is now known as interventional radiology and Sherlock proved a generous colleague, keen to adapt to the many new therapeutic radiological procedures. These innovative, sometimes dangerous techniques were met with excitement, scepticism and sometimes opposition from both radiologists and surgeons. Radiology was starting to shift from a diagnostic service to a therapeutic specialty at the forefront of patient management. In the early days Bob was the only person in his hospital who could be called on for an emergency procedure. When the call came in the middle of the night he would go into the Royal Free, spend the rest of the night there, before dashing home for a quick shower to return to the hospital for his usual daytime work, finishing the day with a tutorial or teaching session. Those were the glory days!
Most individuals starting to do these procedures did not have a large interventional team around them, often working solo in their department. Like all pioneers they found this lonely and difficult work. Enter Bob Dick. Bob was a driving force in setting up a London-based group that met monthly, rotating between the hospitals involved, to discuss procedures and present cases. The group shared their experiences with the techniques, including ‘mistakes’, and so developed a rapid learning curve and a deep bond between them. As might be expected from his honest nature he suggested that any failure or disaster be shared openly with the entire group. This ethos was undoubtedly a crucial factor in the advancement of the speciality, for the group could learn from each other’s experience and minimise complications. The procedures that these doctors performed and developed were the first to be undertaken in the UK and, in some cases, the world. He was one of the founding fathers of the BSIR, its second President and, in honour of his clinical and leadership qualities, became the first recipient of the BSIR Gold Medal in 2001. Bob was a pioneer in hepatobiliary interventional procedures, including the use of arterial embolisation to manage haemorrhage following percutaneous liver biopsy, and percutaneous removal of residual bile duct stones via a T tube track. He designed and modified baskets for stone removal from the bile duct and for the removal of intravenous foreign bodies. He was also at the forefront of TIPS (transjugular intrahepatic portosystemic shunt) development in the UK. Beyond hepatobiliary disease, he was a true interventional all-rounder, who excelled at embolization, angioplasty, stent insertion, stone removal and percutaneous biopsy. He published numerous articles on imaging and hepatobiliary disease: and in 1987 co-edited and contributed to the book Imaging in hepatobiliary disease with Sheila Sherlock, James Dooley and Manuel Viamonte Jr.
He will be remembered for his personal qualities: kindness, complete integrity, generosity (both social and intellectually), modesty and loyalty. His patients loved him and maintained their trust in him even when things went awry as they occasionally do at the cutting edge. He treated all his colleagues, registrars, radiographers, nurses, porters and consultants, with dignity and respect and gave them due recognition for their contributions.
Bob’s ebullient personality, keen wit and intelligence were a winning combination. He had a warmth and approachability with an enthusiasm for radiology which inspired countless junior doctors and medical students. He became known as the ‘go-to’ radiologist for junior doctors – never refusing to do a procedure after hours – and gently encouraging the nervous junior with suggestions of further relevant investigations they might like to consider.
Bob’s enthusiasm for everything he did inside and outside of medicine seemed boundless. Within the medical school he was Dean for Admissions and immersed himself fully in student activities, theatrical productions, music and tennis. He regularly appeared in Christmas pantomimes put on by the hospital, usually as the villain. He loved his native Australia deeply but was seduced by the opportunities of UK life, taking an Open University degree in Art History, travelling across Europe and indulging his passion for opera and classical music. He mixed these cerebral pursuits with a love of all sport, especially horse racing.
Bob had a genuine interest in others and the ability to glean everybody’s life stories when they met him, and to form close connections. He was an egalitarian and treated everyone with respect. A quick and intelligent mind could result in the rapid ‘fire’ of questions but Bob remembered all the answers and cared about everyone he worked with or looked after. He was an inspired and generous teacher staying late to give tutorials. He was always thrilled when his students got the right answer, and was able to carry on teaching into his late 70s. Bob championed diversity in medicine, setting up, with his wife, the Robert and Diana Dick Prize for the most improved Overseas student in Final MBBS at UCL Medical school.
Reflecting on his career, he said ‘When I arrived in the UK it was only 20 years after the inception of the NHS. It was a great privilege to be part of the NHS and long may it thrive’. He retired from the Royal Free Hospital at 60 but continued to work at King George Hospital, Ilford and the Central Middlesex Hospital into his 70s, combining this with teaching, charitable work and looking after his grandchildren, entertaining them with a selection of games and magic tricks.
He leaves Diana, four children (two doctors and two in education) and eleven grandchildren.
Addition from the RCR Obituaries Editor, a former trainee of Dr Dick:
The following experience epitomises Bob's support and friendship which I will always cherish.
In the very early eighties I was the on-call senior registrar at the Royal Free and was called in to perform an arch aortogram on a 27-year-old male with Marfans syndrome who clearly clinically had suffered an arch dissection. The tertiary unit to which he had been referred would not take him without a confirmatory angiogram (CT aortogram still being in its infancy). I 'phoned Bob to let him know the position and came in to perform the study. As I was positioning the catheter just above the aortic valve, I became aware of Bob's presence in the room. He told me to crack on, if I was happy. So I did. Immediately after the pressure injection had commenced the patient had a cardiac arrest and died. I was devastated, it had been my first on-table death. Bob was brilliant at supporting and consoling me and encouraged me to attend the post-mortem (which revealed that the coronary arteries had dissected thus exonerating me). He continued to rebuild my confidence and I never looked back. I will never forget him and my thoughts are with his family.'
