Sudden Insight

We clap and sing
Happy Birthday
And implore the birthday love
To blow out candles on a cake
They do
Snuffing out the dancing flames with wind and spittle
And the host serves the cake
And we eat
We eat cake, icing
And the birthday sneeze
Surely this practice can't be sanitary

Doctor Empathy, M.D.

 While Sylvia and I were watching The Pitt a couple of weeks ago, a demented idea popped into my head. 

Imagine an emergency room doctor who never learned how to be dispassionate, how to remain composed and professional when faced with the daily horrors of the ER. This hypothetical doctor can hold his emotions in check for the first few minutes of diagnosis and treatment, but then he breaks down in tears and has to complete his work while sobbing brokenly, whether he's treating a broken toe or a mortal gunshot wound. 

In a real-world setting, I would expect that such a doctor would be eventually dismissed for his effect on morale--both patient morale and the morale of everyone else in the ER. 

But imagine further that this emotional doctor also happens to be a preternaturally gifted genius who saves people in even the most desperate medical circumstances. Time after time, he saves patients that no one else could have saved. Once, his colleagues called him Doctor, Empathy, M.D., with the M.D. standing for "Mucho Depressing" instead of "Medical Doctor." But now, they see him with a mixture of bewilderment and awe, calling him "Master Diagnostician," "Master of Disease," or "Medically Divine." His colleagues can find Doctor Empathy exasperating, but they can see the value of his work, so they devote themselves through getting Doctor Empathy through each shift with his--and their--sanity intact.

I think this might make a pretty good dramedy. 

Unconscionable

Today Alberta's UCP government announced most Albertans will have to pay for COVID-19 vaccinations starting this fall.

The government claims this is because over half of Alberta's supply wasn't used over the last couple of years. This isn't surprising, since premier Smith's government has consistently downplayed the severity of COVID-19 and refuses to properly publicize the availability of COVID-19 vaccines and booster shots.

Currently, Alberta has the highest rate of measles cases (per capita) in Canada. This is what happens when a government abdicates its responsibility to debunk anti-vaxxers and instead implicitly supports anti-vax messages through its policies. 

Anti-science, anti-intellectual, anti-vax thinking has brought measles back from the brink of extinction--a disease that can cause death and permanent disability. 

Just like COVID-19. 

Sylvia and I can and will pay for our booster shots. We have that privilege. But what about the majority of Albertans, living paycheque to paycheque, who can't afford a shot expected to cost over $100? I guess they'll just have to take their chances. 

And of course this makes life even more difficult and hazardous for the small minority of people who legitimately cannot be vaccinated for health reasons. These people are usually protected by herd immunity, but Alberta's COVID-19 vaccination rate has dropped down to around 13 percent. Herd immunity requires over 90% of any given population to be vaccinated to protect those who cannot be vaccinated. 

The UCP's decision to charge people for a life-saving vaccine could very well sicken and even kill scores of people. It will likely place immense strain on our already overworked health care providers.

Unconscionable. 

The Compassion and Excellence of Alberta's Health Care Professionals

The last few days have been pretty rough for the Woods family. But in the midst of worry and stress, we are united in our gratitude for the nurses, doctors, porters, volunteers, and lab technicians who have been unfailingly kind and relentless in their efforts to figure out why Mom is currently sick and how to heal her. She is in very good hands and we are optimistic that soon she'll be back home. It helps immeasurably that Mom is incredibly tough and brave. 

In Canada, we are blessed to have a robust publicly-funded, publicly-delivered health care system, despite unrelenting efforts by right-wing politicians to privatize that system. Our current experience reinforces my belief that Canadians everywhere should recognize that our public system needs our consistent moral, financial, and political support.

We hope to see you tomorrow, Mom, or the next day, when you're well enough. Angels and ministers of grace be with you. 

What the Heck Is Frozen Shoulder?

On Tuesday morning, I went in to see my doctor about the stiffness that's been growing in my right arm for the last few weeks. She examined me and determined that I have "frozen shoulder," AKA adhesive capsulitis. I'm in the early stages; currently I can raise my right arm almost to shoulder level, so I can still type--crucial for my job (and this blog). I'm already useless, though, for lifting anything, no matter how light, to shoulder level, let alone above that. Turning left in a vehicle is also tough because the right arm naturally stretches over as you turn the wheel. 

The condition both arises and disappears spontaneously, lasting months or years at a time. But I'm looking into what treatments might be effective other than physio (which I've booked) and simply waiting things out. 

All in all, even with this diagnosis I still feel pretty fortunate. Even if it takes a long time, my shoulder will unfreeze one way or another, and I know I can adapt in the interim. Other people have gotten far worse news from their doctor, so I'm grateful. 
 

Something Lurking Down the Hall

 A couple of weeks ago I dreamed that I was working at Stantec Tower again. I was back on the seventh floor with several of my colleagues, but we were all wearing pajamas and bathrobes, cups of coffee or hot chocolate in hand, and our beds and clothes closets were right next to our desks. It was like one giant sleepover. And while I was genuinely glad to see everyone, I could hear people coughing and hacking down each hallway, like harbingers of plagues even worse than COVID-19. My heart started to race, and I woke up in a sweat. 

This followed a similar, earlier dream in which I went back to work at the Alberta Legislature Annex, even though I was my current age and I left my job with the Official Opposition years ago. In this dream, I had decided to just dash in to see if it was yet safe to return to the office. To my dismay, none of my colleagues of that era were wearing masks, and one even laughed at me, saying I was a fool to come back and that half our team was in hospital. 

So I guess I have some unresolved anxiety about societies around the world striving to get back to business as usual way too soon. 

Call me a worrier, but I'm just not ready. It's the prospect of so-called "long COVID" and cognitive impairment that scares me most. Plus, the idea of strictly isolating for two years only to stop too soon and get really sick, or die. . .or worse, to infect someone else . . . that haunts me. 

But people are "over it," I guess, so damn the torpedoes. 

The Swab

On Wednesday, I was so exhausted that I called in sick. On Thursday, I worked half the day and felt myself passing out again, so I called in sick for the rest of the day. On Friday I was even more exhausted, so I called in sick again, much to my aggravation and embarrassment. 

I bowed to pressure and went for a COVID-19 test today. I waited in line for one excruciating hour--normally not a big deal, but I was so tired that the short wait became a true test of my drastically reduced endurance. 

Eventually, I was escorted to a nurse. She asked about my symptoms, told me to tilt my head back, and gently rammed a Q-Tip to the hilt of my right nostril, tickling my brain. "EAUUUGGAHHHH!" I wailed, breaking my own promise not to scream. I apologized profusely as blood oozed from my nose (or at least I was certain blood must be oozing from my nose), but the nurse was unperturbed. "You'll get your results in two or three days," she called as I staggered toward the exit. 

So that was today. 

The Second Dose

It is not the end of COVID-19, nor even the beginning of the end, but it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. Earlier this afternoon, Sylvia and I received our second doses of the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine. While caution remains necessary, it's still an exciting step. To anyone who's ever visited the blog, I hope you and yours are staying safe and that your own vaccinations are coming soon. 

Vaccinated, Part 1

Today Sylvia and I received our first of two doses of the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine. We were told that it's a sixteen-week wait until the second dose, which seems like forever. But we already feel a bit safer. Not that we'll drop our guard! 
 

Mom and the Forge

One of the hardest things about COVID-19 is the cold reality of social distancing. I talked to Mom on Sunday about the pandemic and how our family is managing it, and while I recognize how lucky we are - both my brother and I are working from home, Sylvia is also safe at home, and Mom is retired - it's still tough to know that it's not safe to see Mom in person, because she's over 65 and thus at high risk of getting very sick if she gets infected with the coronavirus.

Mom is very tough, which I think I attribute to her childhood as a farm girl, and then years as a teacher and mother in Canada's north. But I still worry, and chatting with her on the phone on Sunday really brought home that it won't be safe to visit in person for weeks, or maybe months. On the flip side, that will make our next in-person visit that much more special.

Love you, Mom. 

Two Must-Read Stories on COVID-19

Here are two well-researched articles about COVID-19, the threat it poses, and why we must all, collectively, around the world, take action now to prevent a serious health catastrophe. The first article is the one that convinced me to stay at home. The second shows what we may be in for, depending on the actions that we take or do not take.

Coronavirus: Why You Must Act Now

Coronavirus: The Hammer and the Dance

One Nation Under Isolation

The strange days continue. Like many others, I'll be working from home for a while in an effort to slow down the spread of COVID-19. If, collectively, we succeed, we may just save the health care system from being overwhelmed, and maybe some lives will be saved. 

Like many middle-aged folk, I miss the vitality I had in my 20s and 30s. Aside from my weight, I'm pretty comfortable in my own skin--but now, more than ever, I wish I had that old spark. Not just because of COVID-19, but because I feel like youth would make it easier to bear the other existential threats to our civilization: climate change, the unsustainable gap between rich and poor, regular assaults on critical thinking and truth itself, and the return of right-wing authoritarianism. 

Some of that is nostalgia talking, of course. And in truth, things are not entirely bleak. Even at this early stage of crisis, I've witnessed people pulling together, making smart decisions, listening to experts. And yes, there's been some panic buying, some hoarding. But people do crazy things when they're afraid. And then they calm down and do the right thing. 

The Face of Alberta Health Services

"Sean Woods is putting my health information into my hands! Thanks, Alberta Health Services!"

Photo by Scott Friel. Modelling by Sean Woods. 

Spy Deterrent

Last week I had to have radioactivity injected into my veins for some medical testing. When I returned to work, I mentioned that the nurses had had to inject extra radiation, because there wasn't enough for imaging purposes the first time around. I joked that perhaps I would get super-powers, and that if I could choose, I would choose stretching abilities, since those have the most potential to annoy.

I elaborated: "For example, I could stretch my eyeballs over the barrier to Stephanie's cubicle, here, to spy on her."

"I'd spray them with Windex," she replied dryly.

A good countermeasure, I thought. 

Saw My Own Heart Beating Today

As part of a series of tests to see why I have a persistent cough, I went in for an electrocardiogram today. But I think they also gave me an ultrasound, because the technician put a bunch of gel on my chest and jammed a wand into my ribs. I could see my heart beating and lungs working on his screen. Trippy.

The tech gave me quite a bruising with the wand, too. Ouch. On the other hand, cost to me=zero dollars, so hooray for public health care.

Slash and Burn

Yesterday I made grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. The grilled cheese is perhaps the simplest of culinary exercises, and yet somehow I managed to burn two fingertips and slash two knuckles during the preparation of this repast. I can explain the fingertips; I flipped one of the sandwiches too suddenly, and to prevent it from leaving the frying pan, I held one edge of the bread up to shift its centre of gravity, tipping it back into the pan. Doing so burned my fingers on the hot toast.

I am at odds to explain how I slashed my knuckles, though I note that each knuckle slashed is on one of the burned fingers. 

Starring...Sean

Sean makes his professional acting debut in this short commercial for Alberta Health Services' wellness tips service. He did a great job! I'm very excited for him. 

Reflections on an Ancient Ambulance

Photograph, 1993. 

A Shot in the Light

Yesterday I received my flu vaccine shot at the University of Alberta hospital.

"There, you're good to go," the nurse said after jabbing me in the arm.

"You don't want me to wait around for fifteen minutes in case I faint?" It was the protocol I was used to.

"Well," she said, "You're in the middle of a hospital. If you keel over, someone's bound to help you."

"Oh yes," I said. 

Not Just an Incredible Wimp

For the last month or so, I've been exhausted by any physical activity, even things as simple as walking a block at a normal pace. Such activities have reduced me to coughing fits so violent I've nearly passed out a few times. I've been annoyed with myself for being so wimpy over what I thought was a head cold, but I finally saw my doctor today and and it turns out I have a rare form of pneumonia in both lungs.

Strangely enough, this news makes me happy, because it means there's actually good reason for my incredible lethargy. The bad news is that I can expect a long, slow recovery, as this form of pneumonia is apparently pretty tough to treat.

Naturally I've been resisting Sylvia's entreaties to go see a doctor for some weeks now, weeks that could have been spent on treatment. To her credit, Sylvia uttered not a single "I told you so." Advice to self: listen to Sylvia and stop being stubborn.