My grandfather was also called to the emergency of the Great Halifax Explosion... all doctors available went. Great Uncle Fred flew out a window, still in his bed, and landed safely. Great Aunt Rose fell through the collapsing floor into the cellar. Both survived. He was also an army doctor on call (WW #1.)
Just reading Dr. Chase on the subject of baldness in canaries. They may also be prone to "moping" and "huskiness." And they might get epilepsy, for which you need to cut their "toe nail" until it bleeds. That would certainly startle them!
I so relate! Not only the same age, but grandfather was a surgeon in Windsor - went to hospitals to “save “ people, but also never turned away anyone who couldn’t pay., and was known to go and “ sit” with those who were dying. Because of “ the war" ( #2) we lived with my grandfather , so I know about this kind of dedication. Later, I married my best husband ( #2) who was a marvel, despite the slow decline from “post polio” ( he just missed the advent of the vaccine ).
Needed Google, so I don't get my five points, but loved this nonetheless.
Don't fully understand how you're all over the media with the new book, write this, and tell Matt Galloway you're lazy. How do you think that makes mere mortals feel?
Interesting, this is the Medicine grew up with in Ireland. Now they have a 2 tiered system where you can have your surgery done in another European Union Country if not available at home. The best medical care at your finger tips. I totally agree that our Govt here in Canada has sold us out.
As the widow of a family physician I have lived first hand the pressures and worries that the physician has about their patients in their care let alone being a great husband and stepfather. Our government has been betraying our caretakers for a while now.
We are now travelling backwards in time providing Medicine for all. Fasten your seatbelts it doesn’t look good.
My grandmother died in childbirth in 1947. When she got into difficulty in the hospital the nurses delayed calling the doctor because it was night-time and they didn't want to disturb him. My grandfather, a coal miner, had to choose between the baby boy and his wife. He chose his wife but both died, leaving him to bring up my 4-year-old mother. The trauma of this event had a huge impact on my family that reverberated down the years. This was right before the NHS was introduced in the UK and shows how cheaply human life was held. No money? No treatment, or in this case, not rich? Not important. The NHS promised care at the point of need from the cradle to the grave. Within 100 years it is in its death throes. Plus ça change...
Growing up in the forties in England, the closest I came to seeing a doctor was when the school nurse made an annual visit to check for head lice, inspect ears, eyes and teeth, and listen to my chest with a cold stethoscope. My dad, a painter by trade, was pressed into service as an orderly during WW2 and taught the rudiments of first aid, so he was our family doctor. "Don't get sick" was wise advice!
Like canaries (just read your addition of some15 minutes ago) I suspect that I suffer from moping and huskiness. In my case, the causes of both are known; moping about the state of this populist and conspiracy crazed world, huskiness induced by shouting at the TV.
My grandmother was from Burnt Church, New Brunswick. She came to Massachusetts and became a registered nurse. When her sister who remained behind in Burnt Church became pregnant, my grandmother went home with her young husband to be with her sister when the baby arrived. My grandparents smuggled the newborn child across the US-Canadian border, and he became the first of their nine children. No one was ever discussed the origins of their oldest child. After her retirement from Memorial Hospital in Worcester, MA, my grandmother returned to Burnt Church and purchased a small parcel of land in and build a small two bedroom cottage heated by a wood burning cook stove. She returned to the cottage every summer with any grandchildren who wanted to spend a rural summer their grandparents. I spent several summers with her eating native poached salmon and many home cooked delights obtained at the Shield’s Country Store at the dock on the Mirmashi Bay. It became a magical childhood memory. Grandma Dwyer was a formidable, loving and caring woman. All of her children are dead now, but her offspring of Grand Pa Jack and Grammy lived long lives and moved all across the US expanding their Irish-Canadian heritage.
A friend born in 1950 tells a similar story,, for her grandfather was "the father of socialized medicine in the United States," a country doctor who made house calls in horse and buggy in Elk City, Oklahoma. He ultimately established a co-op and a hospital where he treated all ailments for a set fee annually. No towels, though, or even pot holders.
This was a fascinating read, especially knowing so little of Canada's medical history myself and being of a different generation (I use that excuse because we were taught so little of this kind of thing in school). I always look forward to your posts. I am also very impressed at how much busy you've been lately, what with your new book events, interviews, and substack writings! Makes me remember to just write for the joy of it (rather than worrying about what kind of story I'll conjure up for my latest assignment). I do hope you're getting to relax too. Very much looking forward to seeing you speak in London later this week. Warm wishes from us in Norwich! Sophia.
With National Health Insurance imminent here in ANC-land, Lysol to remove objectionable thoughts ((and “odors”) from our thieving politicians would prevent great advice “don’t get sick (er) “ 🙏🏻Lionel
Thank you for this. It gives young readers perspective, as the only timeline it is easy to envision is two generations. Our grandparents health experiences all sound so archaic, but was such a short time ago in the history of things.
My mother was born in 1918 and educated at Mount Alison and then McGill because of a lovely maritime benefactor…and because females graduating as physicians was not “done”, she went on to a career teaching nursing. However before I was born in 1959 so much of our family experience had repercussions due to lack of health care funding … my big sister died six weeks after birth, and the hospital stay ruined my parents savings, my mothers’ cohorts effectively allowed the baby to die because the treatment she needed was beyond their means. Other horrible choices before that time had to be made within our family history … amputations, withholding feeding, ravages of diseases that penicillin would have cured. Yes, my mother’s mantra was also “don’t get sick!”
I am presently deeply in mourning for the state of our health care, as I was always enamoured with our luck in having it available, and have been lucky enough to live in the heyday of its benefit. I’m alive today because of OHIP … but I wonder if the same funds would be as easily available now. One of the supporting drugs I needed was $2500 an injection, and I needed it every week for 6 months.
Having friends in the USA has made this gift of funding all the more precious, as I have watched young friends die due to a lack of funds for treatment. Fundraisers help … but are often not enough. Yes, what is a life worth? And who has the right to decide?
The one strange human behaviour I have noted as a result of a socialized medical fund is in part that ancient homily “don’t get sick.” Often it is implied that illness is the fault of the host … that you are responsible for your own inability to thrive - and it is discrimination in an ugly way.
As a super healthy person who was diagnosed with cancer while still under 40, I was a recipient of that bias from several sources, and even though I was able to get treatment without the costs that would have ruined us, and make the decision to get treatment instead of dying, I still had to fight for what I wanted, and research my own treatment. The alternative passivity would have had me falling victim to a system that did not see me as a viable young human, and wanted to treat me within a “study group” and treat with a status quo prescription. “In the interests of furthering medical research” ….because if you are already compromised and need our help, you need to help us too” was what one nurse said to me when I refused to be part of a blind study for chemotherapy.
As a result I am very sympathetic to others who have the social stigma of transmittable dis-ease because of the discrimination I faced as a patient in the Ontario Health Care System. My research was simple, and the treatment I wanted and fought for, based on my age, health and diagnosis was determined two years later to be the preferred and efficacious treatment.
Thanks for letting me chime in.
I have had your novels as a backdrop to my education my whole life, and I am so grateful for your eagle-eye on social justice, Ms. Atwood. These writings sustain me even more. Many thanks.
What Is This Health Care, Earthlings? #2: THE TOMMY DOUGLAS TEA TOWEL
My grandfather was also called to the emergency of the Great Halifax Explosion... all doctors available went. Great Uncle Fred flew out a window, still in his bed, and landed safely. Great Aunt Rose fell through the collapsing floor into the cellar. Both survived. He was also an army doctor on call (WW #1.)
Just reading Dr. Chase on the subject of baldness in canaries. They may also be prone to "moping" and "huskiness." And they might get epilepsy, for which you need to cut their "toe nail" until it bleeds. That would certainly startle them!
I so relate! Not only the same age, but grandfather was a surgeon in Windsor - went to hospitals to “save “ people, but also never turned away anyone who couldn’t pay., and was known to go and “ sit” with those who were dying. Because of “ the war" ( #2) we lived with my grandfather , so I know about this kind of dedication. Later, I married my best husband ( #2) who was a marvel, despite the slow decline from “post polio” ( he just missed the advent of the vaccine ).
i so enjoyed this!
Needed Google, so I don't get my five points, but loved this nonetheless.
Don't fully understand how you're all over the media with the new book, write this, and tell Matt Galloway you're lazy. How do you think that makes mere mortals feel?
Interesting, this is the Medicine grew up with in Ireland. Now they have a 2 tiered system where you can have your surgery done in another European Union Country if not available at home. The best medical care at your finger tips. I totally agree that our Govt here in Canada has sold us out.
As the widow of a family physician I have lived first hand the pressures and worries that the physician has about their patients in their care let alone being a great husband and stepfather. Our government has been betraying our caretakers for a while now.
We are now travelling backwards in time providing Medicine for all. Fasten your seatbelts it doesn’t look good.
My grandmother died in childbirth in 1947. When she got into difficulty in the hospital the nurses delayed calling the doctor because it was night-time and they didn't want to disturb him. My grandfather, a coal miner, had to choose between the baby boy and his wife. He chose his wife but both died, leaving him to bring up my 4-year-old mother. The trauma of this event had a huge impact on my family that reverberated down the years. This was right before the NHS was introduced in the UK and shows how cheaply human life was held. No money? No treatment, or in this case, not rich? Not important. The NHS promised care at the point of need from the cradle to the grave. Within 100 years it is in its death throes. Plus ça change...
Growing up in the forties in England, the closest I came to seeing a doctor was when the school nurse made an annual visit to check for head lice, inspect ears, eyes and teeth, and listen to my chest with a cold stethoscope. My dad, a painter by trade, was pressed into service as an orderly during WW2 and taught the rudiments of first aid, so he was our family doctor. "Don't get sick" was wise advice!
Like canaries (just read your addition of some15 minutes ago) I suspect that I suffer from moping and huskiness. In my case, the causes of both are known; moping about the state of this populist and conspiracy crazed world, huskiness induced by shouting at the TV.
My grandmother was from Burnt Church, New Brunswick. She came to Massachusetts and became a registered nurse. When her sister who remained behind in Burnt Church became pregnant, my grandmother went home with her young husband to be with her sister when the baby arrived. My grandparents smuggled the newborn child across the US-Canadian border, and he became the first of their nine children. No one was ever discussed the origins of their oldest child. After her retirement from Memorial Hospital in Worcester, MA, my grandmother returned to Burnt Church and purchased a small parcel of land in and build a small two bedroom cottage heated by a wood burning cook stove. She returned to the cottage every summer with any grandchildren who wanted to spend a rural summer their grandparents. I spent several summers with her eating native poached salmon and many home cooked delights obtained at the Shield’s Country Store at the dock on the Mirmashi Bay. It became a magical childhood memory. Grandma Dwyer was a formidable, loving and caring woman. All of her children are dead now, but her offspring of Grand Pa Jack and Grammy lived long lives and moved all across the US expanding their Irish-Canadian heritage.
A friend born in 1950 tells a similar story,, for her grandfather was "the father of socialized medicine in the United States," a country doctor who made house calls in horse and buggy in Elk City, Oklahoma. He ultimately established a co-op and a hospital where he treated all ailments for a set fee annually. No towels, though, or even pot holders.
https://www.historynet.com/dr-shadids-maverick-medicine/?f
Don’t get sick, and don’t vote conservative.
This was a fascinating read, especially knowing so little of Canada's medical history myself and being of a different generation (I use that excuse because we were taught so little of this kind of thing in school). I always look forward to your posts. I am also very impressed at how much busy you've been lately, what with your new book events, interviews, and substack writings! Makes me remember to just write for the joy of it (rather than worrying about what kind of story I'll conjure up for my latest assignment). I do hope you're getting to relax too. Very much looking forward to seeing you speak in London later this week. Warm wishes from us in Norwich! Sophia.
With National Health Insurance imminent here in ANC-land, Lysol to remove objectionable thoughts ((and “odors”) from our thieving politicians would prevent great advice “don’t get sick (er) “ 🙏🏻Lionel
This is just as applicable in the UK as in Canada. It’s horrifying. Why do some people think they’ll never be old or get sick?
I would like to pre-order seven (7) Margaret Atwood tea towels. One for every member of my family.
Thank you for this. It gives young readers perspective, as the only timeline it is easy to envision is two generations. Our grandparents health experiences all sound so archaic, but was such a short time ago in the history of things.
My mother was born in 1918 and educated at Mount Alison and then McGill because of a lovely maritime benefactor…and because females graduating as physicians was not “done”, she went on to a career teaching nursing. However before I was born in 1959 so much of our family experience had repercussions due to lack of health care funding … my big sister died six weeks after birth, and the hospital stay ruined my parents savings, my mothers’ cohorts effectively allowed the baby to die because the treatment she needed was beyond their means. Other horrible choices before that time had to be made within our family history … amputations, withholding feeding, ravages of diseases that penicillin would have cured. Yes, my mother’s mantra was also “don’t get sick!”
I am presently deeply in mourning for the state of our health care, as I was always enamoured with our luck in having it available, and have been lucky enough to live in the heyday of its benefit. I’m alive today because of OHIP … but I wonder if the same funds would be as easily available now. One of the supporting drugs I needed was $2500 an injection, and I needed it every week for 6 months.
Having friends in the USA has made this gift of funding all the more precious, as I have watched young friends die due to a lack of funds for treatment. Fundraisers help … but are often not enough. Yes, what is a life worth? And who has the right to decide?
The one strange human behaviour I have noted as a result of a socialized medical fund is in part that ancient homily “don’t get sick.” Often it is implied that illness is the fault of the host … that you are responsible for your own inability to thrive - and it is discrimination in an ugly way.
As a super healthy person who was diagnosed with cancer while still under 40, I was a recipient of that bias from several sources, and even though I was able to get treatment without the costs that would have ruined us, and make the decision to get treatment instead of dying, I still had to fight for what I wanted, and research my own treatment. The alternative passivity would have had me falling victim to a system that did not see me as a viable young human, and wanted to treat me within a “study group” and treat with a status quo prescription. “In the interests of furthering medical research” ….because if you are already compromised and need our help, you need to help us too” was what one nurse said to me when I refused to be part of a blind study for chemotherapy.
As a result I am very sympathetic to others who have the social stigma of transmittable dis-ease because of the discrimination I faced as a patient in the Ontario Health Care System. My research was simple, and the treatment I wanted and fought for, based on my age, health and diagnosis was determined two years later to be the preferred and efficacious treatment.
Thanks for letting me chime in.
I have had your novels as a backdrop to my education my whole life, and I am so grateful for your eagle-eye on social justice, Ms. Atwood. These writings sustain me even more. Many thanks.