Hello, friends! Those who know me, may remember that I’ve had a couple of health challenges in my life. Almost 20 years ago, I spent a month in the hospital having multiple surgeries and procedures to reconstruct some internal organs that a couple of gallstones had torn asunder. The care I received was exceptional. A couple of nurses were a little grumpy, but they have a tough job. The surgical team and residents were fantastic, and I had very attentive home care for over a month after I was released from hospital. And, at the end of everything, I received no invoice or bill. It was all covered by OHIP, Ontario’s public health care system. What you Americans like to call the dreaded single-payer. I had nothing but praise for the system.
I’m a big fan of socialized medicine – I think most of us get back more from the system than we pay into in taxes. I wish that were actually communicated, though. I think that after every interaction with a healthcare provider or service, we should receive an itemized invoice, with a zero balance, but showing what it would have cost us absent OHIP. That would lead to a better-informed (and more appreciative) populace.
Fast forward to current world. I’m no longer in the big city, having moved back to my hometown, and the healthcare system is even more stressed than ever. Chatham-Kent is terribly underserved medically. Family doctors are hard to come by – many people do not have a family doctor. I lucked out when I moved, and was able to get on the roster of my sister’s doctor. I’m on a lot of meds, so I need a doctor for the refills.
Another medical provider Chatham-Kent is short on is psychiatrists. I haven’t seen a shrink since my Toronto doc retired pre-Covid, so that’s been almost 7 years. But as long as I have my meds, I’ve been okay. I’m still on the cocktail he figured out probably 10 years ago, at least. God bless Dr Meyer Hoffer.
April 2025, my company closed and I found myself unemployed. I was terrified about my prospects – I’ve written about that here before. I cratered. My family doctor didn’t feel like she had the skill set to help me, or give my meds a tuneup, so she referred me to the CK Mental Health Unit. I’m grateful that she recognized this gap in her expertise, and didn’t just start mucking about with the meds. However, I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited for the referral. This week, 15 months later, I got a call that they had an appointment with a shrink for me – in 4 hours! Nothing like giving a girl some notice. Luckily, my boss is fantastic, and he just said “Go!” So I spoke with the nurse and we went over the list of meds I’m currently on, and she prepared me to expect to be in the office for about an hour for a first appointment. I arrive early to the office, and upon check-in, I was given an information sheet: appointment booking protocol, cancellation and med refill policies, etc. The sheet also said that initial appointments are usually 60-90 minutes long, and you often are given a detailed questionnaire to complete later for the doctor. Duly noted!
Amazingly, the doctor was on time! A very good start! The doctor asked me about what meds I’m on, as if I hadn’t spent 20 minutes on the phone with the nurse mere hours earlier. He asked what brought me into his office – I may have gotten off on the wrong foot by telling him that I was in a really bad place when I was referred 15 months ago. Was that impolite? I said that things had improved since I had found employment, but that I still struggled with more than I’ve shared with you, dear friends. I talked about how my anxiety still pops up, less than before, but it’s just right below the surface. My anxiety with respect to the news, especially U.S. politics, was still a terrible trigger.
He asked about Highgate (where I live): is it a small community? Tight knit? Everyone knows everyone? I said it used to be like that, when we were kids. He said I just needed to find my community, get involved in volunteering, do some gardening, spend more time outside. I should try therapy (like I haven’t done that before in the past 40 years, and btw, isn’t that why I was there). His “prescription” may work for low grade “the blues”, but mine is chemical – the 40 years on and off meds has shown me that. At least he acknowledged that the meds I’m currently on are working, and he gave no indication that he wanted to change them in any way.
And then, at the 15 minute mark, he declared that I’d be fine if I just stay employed, and stay out of international politics. And then he dismissed me, by saying he’d see me again in 10 weeks. So that was it. One minute for every month that I waited. Is that the standard now for mental health care in Ontario?
I left completely discouraged. Is this the best there is for me? Feeling like I’m just treading water, not even getting the full hour I was allotted to explain my situation? I almost felt like I missed the opportunity to shoot my shot. Did I mishandle the appointment? I was so focused on not alienating him, or being too “aggressive” to the point that he wouldn’t add me to his roster, that I likely wasn’t forceful enough. And now here I am for 10 weeks until I get another chance. So, after some unsuccessful retail therapy, I drove home with tears streaming down my cheeks.
That was 2 days ago. I’m still replaying the appointment in my mind, wondering where I went wrong, when I could have interjected more forcefully, what I could have done differently. I’m going to make myself crazy for the next 10 weeks as I game out all the scenarios 10 different ways. As if I weren’t crazy enough already.
The public non-profit healthcare system is struggling, folks. I don’t have the public policy chops to suggest an answer, but it almost feels like it’s being starved in order to make a public-private hybrid solution more palatable. We need to keep profits out of healthcare – the public-private hodgepodge we currently have isn’t working. Psychiatrists are covered by OHIP and require a doctor’s referral; psychotherapists typically are not covered. The latter may be covered by private health insurance, but that wouldn’t help me, as I have no benefits as an independent contractor. And I’m luckier than most, as my income allows me to pay out of pocket for all of my crazy meds; most are not so lucky. I recognize that, but it doesn’t make the situation any better.
I usually try to wrap up these posts with a pithy happy ending, but I don’t have that for you today, folks. Keep your fingers crossed, and stay tuned in 10 weeks.
RC Country Life 