A Sunday Chat with Myself—Responsible Health

Parts of this story were included in an article on this topic that I wrote for our town newspaper on 24 May, 2018.

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In Canada we enjoy a healthcare system that guarantees free health and sickness care for every citizen. It’s a pretty good deal—the envy of many countries whose politicians aren’t as concerned about the welfare of their citizens as (some) of ours are. However, it does have drawbacks, because there are times when  free health care is the worst thing our politicians could have done for us.

“Everyone should have health insurance? I say everyone should have health care. I’m not selling insurance.”  —Dennis Kucinich

When I go to pick up our mail I often can’t find a parking spot in front of the post office because most of the stalls are taken up by people visiting the health clinic which is located next to the post office. I go to the back of the post office and look for a parking stall in the public parking lot located there—same thing: most of the “up close” stalls are taken up by clinic patients.

On occasion, when I do have to use a drug store—usually for health supplements, but I have used their dispensary, and often had to stand in line waiting to be served. This wouldn’t be a significant point to ponder, except that, in a town of not much over 3,000 people, plus the Blood Reserve next door, we have four drug stores that serve us! Doesn’t that raise an alarm bell that, maybe, we’re not living as healthily as we should be?

I know that in an advanced society it’s a given—almost a right to have good hospitals, doctors, nurses and drug stores, and we should appreciate, and be very grateful for these fine institutes that we’re blessed with. In war torn countries, to even have a doctor come through on occasion is considered a God-send!

Coming back to our town, I don’t know of a person, including myself, who hasn’t, at one time or another, used all four of these health facilities. One can fall and break a limb, come down with a contagious virus, be in a traffic accident, or have some other physical health issue that is beyond one’s control. That’s pretty well a given as we go through life. And, of course, at such times it is so nice to know with confidence, that our ailment will be professionally taken care of.

But shouldn’t we be taking at least some responsibility for our general, non emergency good health? Many of our ailments can can be prevented, if we but use some common sense in both our behavioral and eating habits.

“The road to health is paved with good intestines!” —Sherry A. Rogers

Pain is usually the first indicator telling our body that there is something wrong. When we experience pain, wouldn’t we be better off if, when visiting a doctor, to inquire of him first, if there is something in our daily life—food, drink, bad habits, lifestyle—that we’re doing that could be causing our pain, rather than immediately demanding a pill to just mask the pain? Our doctors and health workers are well trained in helping us live a healthier life—God bless them for their caring professionalism!, If we but ask, they are quite willing to show us a better, healthier way to live without having to resort to medication.

Our health clinic has a Healthy Living unit, but I have yet to see a lineup at that Nurse’s Station as I do at our drug stores!

It’s up to us to utilize this professional knowledge that our health system provides us, and educate ourselves with all this information that’s so freely available—in fact, speaking of free, it is often said that, what is free is seldom appreciated. Maybe it’s time, again, that we placed a levy on our health services so that we appreciate good health!

Smoking, excess drinking, illegal drug use, improper eating habits are lifestyles well within our personal control. We can do something about those issues. It shouldn’t be up to the doctor to “cure” our bad health habits with a pill—or the taxpayer to fund such a wrong mindset, just because we feel we have a right to live as we please without considering the consequences!

“The individual who says it is not possible should move out of the way of those doing it.”  —Tricia Cunningham

About Albert Schindler

I was born on the 27th of February, 1931, on a farm near Hubbard, Saskatchewan. As far back as I can remember I had a spirit that would not stay earthbound. In junior high, I remember taking first place for a short story in which I described my terrifying encounter with a dinosaur. In outer space – that is, when the teacher wasn’t directly speaking to me, I went where Buck Rogers wouldn’t dare go. I was more of a Calvin in Calvin and Hobbes type of guy, with my own, personal, very powerful, transmogrifyer always at the ready. In my ‘teens and twenties, I pushed aside my Calvin alter ego in favour of making a living and didn’t take seriously again my ‘writer’s bug’ until my late 30s. I still saw that the world as full of exciting things to learn and investigate, which my writing reflected in the several articles and a couple of short fiction pieces that I wrote and sold, including over 30 children’s radio plays for Alberta’s ACCESS Radio. Unfortunately, I abandoned my budding writing career in favour of starting my own business as a sign painter. Now that I can officially call myself ‘retired,’ I plan to resume my writing career, only this time, writing mostly fiction. Why fiction? I have lead a great, adventurous life in which I made many mistakes (the ‘adventure’ in life), that have taught me some very important lessons and allowed my spirit to grow to unimaginable proportions, inconceivable to me while still in my thirties. In fiction, I believe, one can adventure into both the inner and outer consciousness of man and the universe to infinite levels where only the boldest dare peak. Convention holds that article writing has to be factual – oh, you can be creative in how you present your information, but ‘fact’ (whatever that means) still must have its parameters in article writing, whereas fiction is limited only by the size of a writer’s spirit, and so far, I haven’t been able to fathom my limit.
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