"Well, I painted on the strips today."
Thus began a conversation the rest of which I will spare you, because it is about collecting samples for the Fecal Occult Blood Test. Trust me, you haven't lived until you've heard a Canada Geek describe the bridge he made with toilet paper to, uh, facilitate smear collection.
This conversation was a good thing. It happened because a new nurse practitioner clinic opened recently in Thunder Bay. Finally, my retirement-age husband, whose asthma and allergies make him a surprisingly delicate flower most of the year, has healthcare again. See? A good thing.
He had the same family practice doc for decades. This doc finally retired two or three years ago, after threatening to for several years. Apparently physicians in their 70s prefer retirement, what a crazy idea. In any case, the doc referred lots of his patients but "orphaned" more--thousands of patients. Including my husband.
About 18 months ago I got into a regular practice by virtue of knowing people. My husband was accepted by this new nurse practitioner clinic by virtue of my nagging ability and his own good sense. I'm relieved for lots of reasons, not the least of which is that we are now both monitoring our health, collecting information about our bodies when we are healthy, so that when they are not, we have a better chance of noticing.
And as I have said before, ad nauseam (which, LOOK! It's spelled correctly!!), healthcare systems are systems, and are thus inherently flawed. On both sides of the border, proactive care of one's health is important. Which, when one gets to a certain age, means doing the fecal occult blood test.
But only one is at that age. The other of us had our mammogram last year, and is not anxious to volunteer to do any painting, thanks just the same.
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A U.S. writer living in Canada examines borders, boundaries, and other invisible (though not imaginary) lines.
