Current Affairs
This piece is inspired by the recent news of cuts to emergency surgery hours at the local hospital. It's part of a trend of declining services in rural areas which make me wonder about the future of the place I live in and love.
I had a real ginchy feeling about the whole trip, even afore we set out, a sorta squirmy stomach clenching feeling, like when you got worms, even though I'd taken them little pills we got from the last trip up the province. But Alec Handy was going, and so there was nothing for it but for me to go, too. There was no way I was letting that man out of my sight. I tried telling Leo about the little spills, the dropped tools in the workshop, but he just laughed it off. Leo the Laugher is what they call him, on account of the time he had hysterics at his grandmama's funeral. He was just a kid then, and the name stuck. But he laughed for real this time. Everybody knows Alec Handy is as steady as a rock, Doonie, he said. You're cracked. But I knowed what I seed.
So we got packed all up, me and Alec Handy and Leo the Laugher and Seumais Dhomhnall Raoighall and Lisbet, who has two whole semesters up at nursing college in Halifax, on top a being brought up to midwifing by her momma, and so is the closest damn thing we got to a trained medical professional since Doc Fraser took that wrong step through rotten ice on the long pond three winters ago. She's been running the clinic since then, and there was a big argument about her coming along, cause Leo reckoned if anything went wrong, she'd be a bigger loss to the community than, say, me who's only an apprentice carpenter. But she put the whole house about his ears and said he might be her husband but he wasn't her boss, and who else would be for certain sure what we needed? So it was fixed in a hurry.
We started out early and hiked as far as the long trestle. Us and the folks at Kiltarlity keep it pretty well in good shape. We camped up there the first night, and set off the next morning. Seumais was singing to keep us entertained, some of them his own made-up songs and some of them classics. The noise was keeping the animals away, at least. He was just starting into the seventh verse of They had neither pole nor paddle, which we were all joining in on, on account of everybody knows that one. I was just starting to relax when we came out at the Gut.
I been up to the Gut a few times on hunting trips, but I never been across before. I looked out over that grey expanse of water and that ginchy feeling came back twice as strong as ever. Think of our ancestors running right over to the other side with their combustion engines and their deepwater causeway. The Canso Causeway's a wonder they say, it's mainland rock and it's mainland clay... The words of the old song came into my head. You can still see the scar in the hills on the other side, where they mined rock once. But them days are long gone.
Leo led us down the side of the hill. Seumais and I got out the patched-up zodiac and started inflating it. Lisbet looked real pinch-faced and worried, as worried as I felt, and I knew she was thinking of the Poirier girl, who might be dead before we could get back with penicillin. We paddled across no trouble, though, a light southwest breeze making the Gut choppy but nothing we couldn't handle. Seumais is the best hand on the tiller I know, and he took us right in at the landing, neat as you please. There was a little grey dock there, looking rough but in good repair when you got down to it, so there must a been people about. But we never saw hide nor hair of them.
We camped the second night just inland from the Gut. There's a firepit there for passing travellers, and somebody'd left kindling and firewood, neatly stacked, for the next people to come along. So nothing would do except for Alec Handy to replace it, so he nudged me with his foot early the next morning, before the camp was stirring. The birds were all twittering their little heads off, the way they do just at dawn, and I was gawking around like crazy to see if there was anything different about these mainland woods, but they looked just the same as the woods on the island. I heard tell of skunks and porkypines and all kinds of creatures but I never saw a spit of them yet.
So there we were, splitting kindling with our little hatchets, and I was pretty distracted and also kind of groggy on account of the sun was just peeking over the horizon. I didn't feel like having an argument with the most stubbornest man alive, even though I been keeping him away from the axe these last few months. The axe and the adze and the bucksaw and the drawknife and whatever the else I can.
I heard Alec Handy make a little noise under his breath, and I turned to look, not thinking much of it. And I saw Alec Handy looking pale as a sheet on washday, staring at his three severed fingers laying on the wood. The blood was coming out in spurts, bright red. I gave out a yell, loud as my lungs could bear, and then I bolted for the camp to rouse Lisbet. She came out in her long drawers only, fumbling with the latch to the first aid kit. Alec Handy was still standing in the same exact way when we got back, as if he was turned to wood his own self.
There was no time for sightseeing after that, not that there would have been anyway. Alec Handy took a fever on the trail, and Lisbet kept muttering about blood poisoning, and I watched that red line moving up my mentor's arm. By the time we came to the city, I didn't have anything to spare on the wonders of the place. We came right here, to the hospital, miss, and that's how it is. Lisbet and Leo and Seumais are gone to the dispensary, and I'm waiting here for the doctors to finish working on Alex Handy. They say the arm is gone for sure.
I had a real ginchy feeling about the whole trip, even afore we set out, a sorta squirmy stomach clenching feeling, like when you got worms, even though I'd taken them little pills we got from the last trip up the province. But Alec Handy was going, and so there was nothing for it but for me to go, too. There was no way I was letting that man out of my sight. I tried telling Leo about the little spills, the dropped tools in the workshop, but he just laughed it off. Leo the Laugher is what they call him, on account of the time he had hysterics at his grandmama's funeral. He was just a kid then, and the name stuck. But he laughed for real this time. Everybody knows Alec Handy is as steady as a rock, Doonie, he said. You're cracked. But I knowed what I seed.
So we got packed all up, me and Alec Handy and Leo the Laugher and Seumais Dhomhnall Raoighall and Lisbet, who has two whole semesters up at nursing college in Halifax, on top a being brought up to midwifing by her momma, and so is the closest damn thing we got to a trained medical professional since Doc Fraser took that wrong step through rotten ice on the long pond three winters ago. She's been running the clinic since then, and there was a big argument about her coming along, cause Leo reckoned if anything went wrong, she'd be a bigger loss to the community than, say, me who's only an apprentice carpenter. But she put the whole house about his ears and said he might be her husband but he wasn't her boss, and who else would be for certain sure what we needed? So it was fixed in a hurry.
We started out early and hiked as far as the long trestle. Us and the folks at Kiltarlity keep it pretty well in good shape. We camped up there the first night, and set off the next morning. Seumais was singing to keep us entertained, some of them his own made-up songs and some of them classics. The noise was keeping the animals away, at least. He was just starting into the seventh verse of They had neither pole nor paddle, which we were all joining in on, on account of everybody knows that one. I was just starting to relax when we came out at the Gut.
I been up to the Gut a few times on hunting trips, but I never been across before. I looked out over that grey expanse of water and that ginchy feeling came back twice as strong as ever. Think of our ancestors running right over to the other side with their combustion engines and their deepwater causeway. The Canso Causeway's a wonder they say, it's mainland rock and it's mainland clay... The words of the old song came into my head. You can still see the scar in the hills on the other side, where they mined rock once. But them days are long gone.
Leo led us down the side of the hill. Seumais and I got out the patched-up zodiac and started inflating it. Lisbet looked real pinch-faced and worried, as worried as I felt, and I knew she was thinking of the Poirier girl, who might be dead before we could get back with penicillin. We paddled across no trouble, though, a light southwest breeze making the Gut choppy but nothing we couldn't handle. Seumais is the best hand on the tiller I know, and he took us right in at the landing, neat as you please. There was a little grey dock there, looking rough but in good repair when you got down to it, so there must a been people about. But we never saw hide nor hair of them.
We camped the second night just inland from the Gut. There's a firepit there for passing travellers, and somebody'd left kindling and firewood, neatly stacked, for the next people to come along. So nothing would do except for Alec Handy to replace it, so he nudged me with his foot early the next morning, before the camp was stirring. The birds were all twittering their little heads off, the way they do just at dawn, and I was gawking around like crazy to see if there was anything different about these mainland woods, but they looked just the same as the woods on the island. I heard tell of skunks and porkypines and all kinds of creatures but I never saw a spit of them yet.
So there we were, splitting kindling with our little hatchets, and I was pretty distracted and also kind of groggy on account of the sun was just peeking over the horizon. I didn't feel like having an argument with the most stubbornest man alive, even though I been keeping him away from the axe these last few months. The axe and the adze and the bucksaw and the drawknife and whatever the else I can.
I heard Alec Handy make a little noise under his breath, and I turned to look, not thinking much of it. And I saw Alec Handy looking pale as a sheet on washday, staring at his three severed fingers laying on the wood. The blood was coming out in spurts, bright red. I gave out a yell, loud as my lungs could bear, and then I bolted for the camp to rouse Lisbet. She came out in her long drawers only, fumbling with the latch to the first aid kit. Alec Handy was still standing in the same exact way when we got back, as if he was turned to wood his own self.
There was no time for sightseeing after that, not that there would have been anyway. Alec Handy took a fever on the trail, and Lisbet kept muttering about blood poisoning, and I watched that red line moving up my mentor's arm. By the time we came to the city, I didn't have anything to spare on the wonders of the place. We came right here, to the hospital, miss, and that's how it is. Lisbet and Leo and Seumais are gone to the dispensary, and I'm waiting here for the doctors to finish working on Alex Handy. They say the arm is gone for sure.