The Olympics and Para-Olympics are over. Canada did so well!

I was just trying to get to the finish line – my mailbox. But my single Lutz jump only had one foot secure and the other one caught the ice. I spun and went down. The recovery was far from clean. I lost technical points for the fall, I lost artistic points for the way my arm and hand landed. But I kept my head up as I left the ice! That matters. A figure skater friend reminded me that Lutz rhymes with klutz. Yes – that was my performance. Klutz.

Later that night I joined a friend to see “West Side Story.” Thank you Regent Theatre for hanging in to give us a safe entertainment! But I hurt. The next morning, I headed to the Prince Edward County Memorial Hospital Emergency Department. That's when I encountered the folks who really deserve Olympic medals.

Water was dripping heavily from the Emergency Room (ER) ceiling plunking into a pail surrounded by towels to contain the wayward bits. High dive manoeuvres up a ladder and into the water by a maintenance team member got the water stopped. A housekeeping team sweeper moved in and cleared the way for the rest of the high performance medical team to keep going. I distinctly heard a team cheer for “That's why we need a new hospital!” And I raised my voice and said, “You're going to get it!”

Sitting on the bench, but also important to my ER game, was the “Covid Clearance” man. When he heard of my difficulty, he took my purse and book so I could change my mask. Then he manoeuvred the sanitizer pump so my hands got done. The triage nurse and the registration staff moved me along and as soon as I sat down, a nurse appeared to call me in. I was out in front in my personal race looking to get home soon to my coffee and my couch. Then the competition showed up.

Two ambulances arrived with unrelated cases. For the first time I saw ambulance attendants garbed in their “fishbowl and hose” helmets. It was like I had fallen into a Jules Verne adventure story. The ER doctor gave me an examination for broken bones and then sent me off to x-ray. “There's this little bone in the wrist that sometimes doesn't always show.” she said. “I'll immobilize it and we'll arrange another x-ray.

When I got to my car, the tears started to fall. Not for me, but for each of those care providers who were putting themselves and their family members at risk just by showing up at work and doing their job. These were the folks who deserved medals for their skills, their patience, perseverance and endurance.

As you read this, the mask mandate will have ended for most places.

I went to the grocery store mid-morning on March 21. As I stood masked and ready to pay, my clerk kindly asked how I was making out so far that day. I responded “Fine, thank you – and you?” She replied, “My first customer came up to check out without a mask on. I was really uncomfortable. The mask is important to me. I wear my mask.” Then I noticed the man behind me in line was not wearing a mask. This was going to be her daily stressor.

We don't know their stories, their health issues or those of their families. All of these folks have been taking care of us. They are exposed every day; they put their families at risk, yet they still show up. So does the checkout person... close up exposure... putting herself and family at risk. We may be done with Covid, but Covid is not done with us. Be courteous to others who perhaps can’t stand the same level of risk as you. In a public setting, wear a mask.

For information about our hospital, or to make a donation call 613 476 1008 ext. 4502, or visit the foundation’s website at www.pecmhf.ca.