While doing an interview with the regional chair of the B.C. Nurses Union this week, I found out about a specific cut to the health care system that hit me hard, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.
Health care has been cut so many times in the last dozen years that what used to be a sizeable roast now resembles a bit of beef jerky, and beef jerky can't sustain the millions who are coming to dinner.
Think about the overcrowded hospitals and patients left in hallways on stretchers without the slightest bit of privacy while dealing with whatever ailment or injury brought them there.
A family member shared a particularly disturbing story with me about his visit to a hospital in Alberta. He was having a violent reaction to some medication that was exiting his system at both ends, but he was left on a bed in the hallway without any screen between him and the dozens of people walking by. For a man who is fiercely proud, this was more than humiliating.
Humiliation aside, there is an obvious issue with health, cleanliness and quality of care when patients are left in hallways or coffee shops that are claimed for bed space. There are also fewer nurses and doctors to care for the growing number of people who need it, and it doesn't look like things are going to get better any time soon.
It's a dismal picture and one that we're all pretty familiar with, but this week I learned of another cut that left a gash close to my heart -a cut to a program that saved my life.
When I was 26, I gave birth to my first child, Kaitlyn. She was beautiful and perfect and I loved her more than anything, but becoming a mom came with an unexpected sadness for me. That sadness grew into despair and then serious depression, which I hid well for fear someone would think I was a bad mother and take my precious baby girl away from me.
I confided in just a few people about the dark place I was in only to have my fears reinforced with, "don't tell anyone or they'll take your baby away."
So when I was out in public, I pretended everything was alright. And when I came home, I locked my door and sunk deeper into depression.
I was struggling with thoughts of suicide and was almost ready to give up when a nurse came to my house.
She was there for the standard home visit a few weeks after I gave birth. I had cleaned the house and put on some nice clothes, even got Kaitlyn all dolled up for the visit that I thought would include talking about baby care and an inspection of my home. It turned out the visit wasn't about that.
The nurse wanted to know how I was doing and she didn't buy my prepared one-liners. She had me take a test and explained post-partum depression to me, which it turns out I was suffering from. She got me in to see a doctor right away, I got on medication and started counselling and within a month I felt like me again. If it hadn't been for that nurse, I don't think I would be here today.
I heard this week that apparently there's no longer money or time to send public health nurses on home visits to new moms.
They now follow up with a phone call, which I would have been able to fake my way through without anyone knowing the reality of my situation.
This cut, although it may seem small in the grand scheme of things, is one I think will have dire consequences for other families. I wish Vancouver Coastal Health would reconsider.
In the meantime, please talk with new moms about how they're really feeling and support them in whatever way you can. It's a tough transition for some of us.
