Tag: institutions

Re: Hospital

My dad hated hospitals and I wished I had probed his reasons why. Everyone has a different experience when it comes to seeking or getting medical care. I view hospitals as places to get repairs for the hard knocks of life, however I’ve never needed to go to one in an emergency. Lucky me; I go when I feel it’s time for mending.

My heart needed correcting for atrial fibrillation so I opted for a surgical approach. The wait was longer than a year so that added to my jubilation when I got cleared for the procedure. My bride escorted me to the correct wing of the complex and I was patient Number Five for my turn with the medical team. The plaque above the nurse’s station said CSS; Cardiac Short Stay. This ward had 18 beds with a ratio of three beds per nurse. The place was a constant buzz of activity from my arrival at 7:30 a.m. to my departure at 8 p.m.

I had lots of time to witness what a hospital (at least in this section) was all about. Computer monitors and tech-looking machines were everywhere but it became clear to me that people still drive this institution. I witnessed many types of workers with things to do, surprisingly most had a piece of paper, or a folder of papers, in one hand. Many papers were filed with other papers, which were then located and typed into an available computer to create what I imagined to be a permanent record. As time passed slowly, I pushed boredom aside by creating stories, most of which were true. I was prepped in several ways for my Pulsed Field Ablation (a new computer assisted technique). I was shaved in areas I’m too shy to mention. An IV that meant business was hooked up to my arm. In one instance a four-foot-tall nurse in full PPE hooked me up for an ECG. Meanwhile several nurses clustered nearby laughing hysterically over a gift shop novelty bag filled with stationary items, and labelled “For Those on a Diary Diet.”

I was there long enough to feel part of the gang. And then it was my turn. Anaesthetic is no laughing matter but somehow I managed to spill some unintentional jokes in the operating room. Through the mental fog, I shouted to all who were near that I was a man of words, not of numbers. Once in the doctors’ Total Control, a snake-like device entered my body to find its way to my heart where it corrected my arhythmic heart’s cadence. Seconds later (or so it seemed) I was coming out of that dreamland with difficulty; sore throat, disorientation. I even made manic calls for an imaginary chiropractor when my neck refused to work. Traumatic!

In conclusion, hospitals are institutions that rely on professional integrity. Real people seemed determined to help me feel better and I felt like an adventurer choosing a brand new medical procedure to lengthen the quality of my life. In short, it was a pretty decent way to spend a day.

Re: Zoo

I don’t like to keep words in boxes (dictionaries). I respect the notion that language is forever evolving. For example, when I come into contact with the word Zoo I jump to initial conclusions based on my experiences. The very sound of that word triggers an emotional response. Before I enter into a discussion regarding zoos, in general or specifically, I need to consider the context of the engagement. Perhaps my understanding of the meaning of this word will change as I consider a different point of view. With this word Zoo I have now covered all the letters of the alphabet. Maybe one day my effort will serve as a children’s ABC style learning book but for older folk: P is for Price, A is for Art, Z is for Zoo etc.

Language researchers like lexicographers or etymologists enjoy studying words. I am not a researcher yet I like writing about how the English language has made me who I am. Most adults have a vocabulary of 10 000 words used on a regular basis. Human beings separate themselves by language, physical borders, personal boundaries or behaviour. It almost seems natural that we seek to enclose ourselves.

Zoos as an institution can depress me. Aquariums for aquatic mammals are jails. Captivity is not something that appeals to me. Keeping (owning) pets of any kind is a questionable human habit. Surprisingly, I used to aspire to working in a zoo. I once visited a hobby farm or ‘family zoo’ that appalled me. The star attraction both times, 30 years apart, was a very sad looking chimpanzee. After all that time the pathetic creature was in the same cage, not looking any wiser. The film Planet of the Apes comes to mind. In the late eighties some zoos underwent a transformation from the confined structure of old bars, iron gates and concrete screened buildings to more open air enclosures where the wild habitat was imitated to a certain degree. On a visit to such a zoo in Europe I was enthralled that I could walk about in an open field with giraffes. I came very close to chucking a career in teaching during a mid-life crisis after reading that Al Oeming had started a conservation area for ungulates in Alberta and wanted workers educated in wildlife management. Pick me!

It’s funny how we throw our arms in the air in exasperation saying, “It’s a zoo out there.” Clearly we have built our own self confining spaces. Sometimes we live in cages of our own design. Maybe that’s why we feel a zoo is ok for animals. Maybe that accounts for our belief that it’s acceptable practise to incarcerate fellow humans. I truly think planet Earth would do better if it was less managed by our species. With climate change, perhaps we are being shown that we can’t continue to harvest/corral/confine everything just to make our lives better, richer or safer.

‘We reap what we sow’ sounds fitting in this context. 

Re: Teach

The last autumn that I entered a school to teach young children was in 2006. Sixteen years ago I rebooted the computers, put the chalk along the ledge, arranged the desks, tacked up some motivational posters, checked my lesson plans and put a new bulb in the overhead projector. I was teaching special needs students, elementary level, when I retired my career to pursue other interests. I am many things and I’m still a teacher.

As all serious parents do, I enjoyed quizzing my sons on how their school day went. I was curious to be at a certain distance from their experience even though in some cases I worked at the same school they attended. I would guard myself not to uncover their private feelings of being in so and so’s class, while knowing their teacher from another perspective. One teacher that I once worked with, a Mr.Novotny, had all three of my children in his grade five classroom. I felt this was worthy of celebration so I made a pair of bookends and asked my boys to pick their favourite book. I purchased them, along with a copy of Old Man and the Sea (the only book I’ve read multiple times). We four arranged to meet Mr.N. after my youngest had graduated from his class. Together we presented the gift. In his amazement he couldn’t stop saying he was flabbergasted. My sons still talk about this event. As a parent I was happy to use this teachable moment to build on what my lads had already been taught.

Parents are their children’s first teachers. Kids can learn negative and positive aspects of life from these dominant adults. I have always believed that it is a good thing that there is no manual for parenting. I like the idea that everyone in a family learns as they go along. That way everyone gets a chance to contribute in their own special way. Read several biographies and you’ll discover that adults have survived or thrived through all sorts of family drama, dysfunction or inspiration. My first memorable lessons outside of my family were provided by my baseball coach. He taught me that tasks are rarely DIY and not to fret about losing. Which we did do. A lot. In that same year I was influenced by my Akela in Boy Scouts. In one long memorable canoe trip I learned how to take things one step at a time.

All told, I have spent most of my life either learning or teaching. 18 years of formal education plus 31 years of working in schools is a significant amount of time being affiliated with a single institution. In my last year of teaching I made parents and colleagues laugh by telling them that I was finally being allowed to graduate from school. After retirement, folks would ask me, “Do you miss teaching?” I would answer that I missed the kids, but not the job.

These days I look for lessons from life, from art, from books. I’m still learning.

Re: Library

I have temporarily relocated to come to the aid of family. My first consideration was finding a place to stay. My second; to get myself a library card. For me, books are a source of comfort and libraries are a hub for enquiring minds.

In grade three I was intimidated by Mrs.Powers, the Teacher Librarian at my school. It didn’t help that I committed a crime that year. I lost a book that I borrowed from one of her shelves. I  searched everywhere while reporting to Mrs.P.  each week about my lack of progress. She became a constant reminder of my shame. When I found the book, months later, I couldn’t bear to return it. I tossed it down my apartment incinerator chute.

Many years later Janice appeared. She was my first high school romance. She volunteered at our town library. I would meet her there to go on a date. She encouraged me to get a membership. I developed an association between my feelings for Janice, the other librarians I encountered while waiting and the overall atmosphere of calm found in this stone building filled with things to read.

Being a solitary sort of person I somehow feel less alone while searching the stacks in a library. In University I sometimes arranged to meet someone in a library rather than a campus pub. I filled my spare time between classes in Teacher’s College sitting in a comfy chair catching up on ‘classics’ I had missed through my youth. Later as an elementary school teacher and as writer for a newspaper I depended on my town library for research material. My wife and I took our children for library programs while they were still comfortable to sit on a lap for story time.

I came across a letter my son wrote to his grandparents regarding his love of books. While in high school he worked at a Coles book store where he had borrowing privileges. He reported, “I’m so in love with words right now that I feel I could easily make my life’s ambition to read until I’ve lived thousands of lives, in thousands of lands by merely turning the pages of worn out books that come alive by my active eyes.”

Last month I was in the branch of my local library picking up a hold I had requested. I overheard a lady struggling to describe a book to the librarian at the front desk. It sounded like the very book I was about to check out so I held it up, boldly calling, “You mean this one?” I could sense the half dozen bibliophiles presently among the shelves stop breathing. The lady turned to see me holding up the book. Her eyes widened. “That’s it!” she cried. Two librarians came from a back room to confront the ruckus. There was still a pause felt in the air. A voice said, “Now that’s serendipity.” Another, “It happens all the time. You just have to be alert.” I left smiling, happy to be part of such a splendid community.