Category: General

Woo hoo! I got me a hot date. Don’t tell my wife…

Actually, my hot date is with the knee surgeon. I’m going back for another scope and debridement (no, this has nothing to do with divorce) on June 7th. My last one was 3 years ago and probably represented about a year of no knee pain at all for the first time since about 1970. No, it’s not the replacement I was told I needed in 1985. Instead, it’s the 6th repair job on the same knee and, while I’m happy I’m getting something, I’d much rather be getting a new knee than a duct tape and baling wire job.

That, sady, is not going to happen soon, though. It’s not that I don’t need a replacement, but rather the lifespan of a replacement and the cost to the medical system of having it done. See, right now, a replacement knee lasts between 10 and 15 years. Apparently, as my surgeon tells me, they last even less time if you use it as a knee. (By the way, that is my plan. No, I’m going back to downhill skiing or anything along those lines, but I would like to go back to biking again.) As things presently sit, replacements done again do not last as long as the earlier ones too. Therfore, if they replace my knee now, they will probably have to replace it two more times afterwards. Yes, it also costs the territory about $15,000 each time.

One would think that wouldn’t be an issue. However, we recently made national news with the story of a man waiting two years for a hip replacement. The reason given is that the territory only does six hip replacements a year because of cost.

Even if I do end up on the waiting list, it will be about tw0 years before I actually get my knee replaced. Considering a first appointment with the orthopoedic surgeon took 14 months and can take up to 24, needing joint surgery here is a lengthy process. Of course, a lot has to do with the problem that the surgeon has to come up from BC to do clinics since we don’t have one here. And, this is the part I don’t really grasp. When I first wrecked my knee, Sydney, NS had a population of less than Whitehorse does now. Sydney had a greater outer area population, but we also have the rest of the territory as potential clients too. At the time I was injured, we had three orthopedic surgeons living and practising in Sydney. Sadly, the territorial government doesn’t seem to understand why we don’t have one here, although expecting the current government to have a clue (hey, our premier is a convicted heroin dealer, after all) is apparently more than one could hope…

As I have mentioned previously, we went to a friend’s memorial service on the weekend. It was quite well attended and was a very nice service. Emile Aubichon was 52 and killed in a motorcycle accident. There was a large number of friends, family, friends of family, and the biker community turned out in large numbers as well.

We met Emile through his brother and sister-in-law. I worked with both at the college, and Clara worked next door at the Archives. We would go to the Kopper King, famous in Stan Rogers’ song, on Thursday evenings for cheap beer night. Shortly after this tradition started, Emile showed up as well. He was a good friend, lots of fun, and despite his quite large size was really nothing more than a big teddy bear. I think it was almost impossible to not like Emile. Even after most of us stopped going to the KK when its food and service deteriorated badly and the realization set in that their cheap beer night wasn’t cheap, I’d still run into Emile around town and we’d hold long gabfests in parking lots or Tim Horton’s.

So, several of have gotten together and decided that his memorial service, regardless of how nice and well run it was, had to have a Part II. After work Thursday, we’re heading over to the KK for a beer or two in his memory. No, not everyone will be there, but if you knew Emile and can make it, we’d be glad to have you.

I vaguely remember learning how to drive and dealing with the concept of parking. It wasn’t an abstract concept at all. You put your car in the areas you’re allowed to and during the time you’re allowed to. Yes, you can try to say, “But my name is Noah Parking and I’m the only one allowed to put my car here between midnight and 4 AM.” Good luck with that, by the way.

But at work, parking seems to be on the level of calculus when it comes to comprehension of the, oddly enough, very few rules involved. Staff are allowed to put their vehicles in some places. Students are allowed to put theirs in others. Contractors, etc., also have places to put theirs. And, interestingly enough, there are signs indicating who can park where.

This being said, the rules don’t seem to apply to anyone… or, at least, most people who seem to think that rules are a completely unnecessary thing foisted upon them to make their lives miserable. And, as such, I am constantly amazed at how people seem to interpret the rules. Its a double whammy for me since:

1. I am a firm believer that, since its a relatively easy component of a more complicated system, if you can’t park, why would we trust you driving.
2. The staff parking area behind my office is far closer to it than any of the handicapped parking spaces, which I need until I get knee surgery. The nearest handicapped spot is about a 500 m walk from my office.

For example, one of our staff members, part of the job of his department being reporting parking offences, doesn’t want anyone parking next to his new car so he parks in a two spot parking area diagonally. Students on short term courses, who of course aren’t there for the full semester so aren’t “students,” park in the staff lot. One student had to be told five times in one week not to park in the staff lot, so he moved his truck to the fire lane in front of a hydrant and security asked him, daily, every day for the next week not to do that either. No, they didn’t have him towed, although if the fire department came up the hill for any reason during that week, they would do so automatically.

Despite the fact that we have parking regulations, we don’t enforce them. Not only that, we hired 24/7 security staff at substantial expense (no, these are not rented security but staff members with salaries and benefits), part of which to do parking supervision. However, the head of security has no interest in enforcing parking. And, despite signage to the contrary, management will not order a tow truck because they don’t want to offend people.

So, in short, parking here is a free-for-all. And, I’m not totally sure why since, I’m not sure how you got into this post-secondary educational institution when you can’t determine what the words “No Parking” mean. Don’t make me give you my explanation for why you can’t occupy a single parking spot at a time…

Someone explain to me why housecleaning is important. I mean, really important. I’m certain that most people have far more important things to do than clean the house. I work all day. I cook. I shop for groceries. I have things I do outside work. Why do I have to clean the house?

Yes, I know people are coming over. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that they, too, have lives and would be far happier taking the housecleaning thing and throwing it on the back burner. So, when you come to their place, you don’t think their house is untidy. You think, “Wow, what fulfilling lives they have” or something equally profound. “They do far more neat things than housecleaning.” Let’s be honest. Shouldn’t a really clean house be the sign of someone with no life.

My cousin Alma’s husband in Northern Ireland sent me an e-mail that sums up how to deal with it. Go to the store and buy a get well card and put a bunch of  illegible signatures on the bottom of it. A whole pile of signatures. Next, place it somewhere on the shelf where no company could possibly miss it. They’ll see it and think, “Hey, he’s been too sick to clean…”