If Canada ever decided to scrap public healthcare, I would have to bubble-wrap myself and roll everywhere like a human hamster ball. Honestly, I don’t even think I’d qualify for a warranty at this point. I’m like a used car with too many previous owners and no one can remember who last changed the oil.
Let’s take a quick tour of my medical highlight reel. I’ve had surgeries for endometriosis, my gall bladder peaced out years ago, my bladder got a lift, and my breasts got downsized like they were middle management in a recession. I’ve broken my ankles twice, broken a foot, and then just to keep things interesting, I capped it all off with cataracts. Cataracts. At my tender age. My eyes apparently decided to retire early before the rest of me got the memo.
If I had to pay for all of this out of pocket, I’d be asking my friends to start a GoFundMe titled “Help Keep Louise From Falling Apart.” Actually no, scratch that. It would need to be called “Support Louise Before She Starts Paying Doctors with Homemade Cookies.” Because truly, none of this comes cheap. One surgery alone would probably cost more than my car. And my car was not cheap.
People sometimes say Canadians take public healthcare for granted
I would like to assure those people that I do not. This Canadian appreciates our healthcare system the way some people appreciate fine wine. I savour it. I study it. I whisper sweet nothings to it every time something else in my body decides to malfunction.
And I defend it every chance I get. I always will.
Do I want shorter wait times? Of course. Do I want a government that doesn’t chip away at it bit by bit while acting like nothing’s happening? Absolutely. I’m painfully aware that without Medicare, I’d have been bankrupt by age twenty, blind by thirty, and probably held together with Gorilla Glue by forty. The fact that I’m still walking around now is a testament to the miracles of modern medicine.
So yes, I love public healthcare. I need it. I rely on it the way some people rely on vitamins or prayer. And until the day my body stops auditioning for a medical drama, I will keep fighting for it. Because if I ever had to pay American prices for this nightmare roller coaster of injuries and surgeries, I’d be writing this from a sagging tent behind Canadian Tire, stealing their wifi.
And even then, I’d probably still need physio.
In case you’re wondering about the cookies… here is my friend Barb’s excellent shortbread cookie recipe:
Barb’s shortbread cookie recipe
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
1 lb butter
1 c extra fine sugar
1 c cornstarch
3 c flour
Put butter on counter & cut a few times with knife, add sugar, cornstarch and 2 cups of flour.Knead with heels of hands until mixed. Add last cup of flour and knead. Do not over-knead.
Place on a cookie sheet and press evenly (good luck!). Poke the dough with a fork into neat (or messy) rows, with the fork touching the bottom of the cookie sheet.
Bake at 325 for 40 to 50 minutes. Around the 40-minute point, take it out, cut it into squares, and put it back in the oven until it reaches your preferred level of golden perfection. I usually get 10 or 11 pieces across and 6 or 7 down, depending on how generous I’m feeling.
Tip: If you’re planning to pay for medical bills with these, cut them smaller. It’ll look like you’re paying more.
And please don’t store these in plastic. A tin keeps them happier. They freeze well.
