In the heart of Toronto, nestled near the bustling intersection of Bloor and Dundas streets, a gynecology clinic once stood as a beacon of care for thousands of women. Dr. Esther Park, the clinic’s sole practitioner, had built a reputation over the years as a trusted figure in women’s health. But beneath the surface of her seemingly impeccable practice, a storm was brewing—one that would soon unravel the trust of her patients and cast a shadow over her career.
It began with a letter. On a cold February morning, 2,500 women across the city opened their mailboxes to find an envelope from Toronto Public Health. The letter was brief but chilling: they may have been exposed to bloodborne infections due to the “improper cleaning” of medical instruments at Dr. Park’s clinic. The procedures in question—IUD insertions and removals, endometrial biopsies, and endocervical polyp excisions—were common, routine even. But now, they carried the weight of uncertainty and fear.
Among the recipients was Zahra Baksh, a 34-year-old teacher who had undergone an IUD procedure at the clinic just months earlier. She remembered the day vividly—the sterile smell of the office, the reassuring words of the nurse, and the searing pain that contradicted Dr. Park’s promise of a “painless” experience. When she read the letter, her heart sank. “It felt like a betrayal,” she later recounted. “I trusted her with my health, and now I’m left wondering if I’ve been exposed to something life-altering.”
The letter advised patients to consult their healthcare providers for testing for hepatitis B, hepatitis C, and HIV. Dr. Herveen Sachdeva, Associate Medical Officer of Health, emphasized that the risk of transmission was “very low,” but the damage had already been done. For Zahra and countless others, the emotional toll was immeasurable. “It’s not just about the physical risk,” she said. “It’s the anxiety, the sleepless nights, the feeling that your body isn’t your own anymore.”
As news of the scandal spread, questions began to surface about Dr. Park’s practices. The College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario (CPSO) revealed that they had previously investigated her in relation to the “care of a patient.” By December 2024, her medical license had been restricted, limiting her practice to office-based gynecology. A notice on the CPSO’s website stated that Dr. Park had agreed to undergo professional education in areas such as medical record-keeping and the management of endometrial thickening. But for many, this was too little, too late.
Dr. Park’s clinic, once a hub of activity, now stood as a ghost of its former self. The outgoing message on the clinic’s answering machine announced her retirement and the impending closure of the practice in April. Attempts by CTV News to reach Dr. Park for comment went unanswered, leaving her former patients to grapple with their anger and fear in silence.
For Zahra, the closure of the clinic brought little solace. “How is she just retiring and walking away?” she asked. “What about the 2,500 women who are left dealing with the fallout? This isn’t just a tiny problem—it’s a massive breach of trust.”
As the days turned into weeks, the story of Dr. Park’s clinic became a cautionary tale—a reminder of the fragility of trust in the medical profession and the far-reaching consequences of negligence. For the 2,500 women who received that fateful letter, the journey toward healing had only just begun. And for Dr. Park, the shadows of her actions would linger long after the doors of her clinic had closed for good.
