Burdens & Blessings
Photo Credit: Zac Durant
“Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.” ~ Samuel Smiles
Last week I wrote about the conflicting energies of Spring’s promise of renewal and Winter’s brutal, difficult darkness. The contrasting polarities of these two energies continue to define my experiences, although they are cloaked in new and different disguises. This week I’m sharing personal stories of how burdens and blessings are manifesting in my life. I hope whatever insights I have gained give hope to you, dear reader, on your journey toward the sun.
Burdens
Monday, March 23 was my sixtieth birthday, and my journal entry that morning began with this: “My life feels like a projection outside of me, not quite real, like I’m watching it unfold as though viewing a documentary, about someone else. It’s a story of tragedy. It’s revealing a truth about the times we live in, where dark, egoic, selfish, greedy, and corrupt energies are taking hold. A society governed by billionaires who make decisions that result in severe shortages in resources for the people at every level—in government funding, costs of living, and the failings of our under-resourced health system. The people on the front lines are committed. They are doing their best to provide care. But it isn’t enough and it isn’t okay.”
The context for what I wrote in my journal is a story of heartache transformed to devastation due to frustration and anger with our health system. A family member in acute need of care, already suffering beyond anything close to humane, is still in an emergency room cubicle after arriving at eleven pm on Saturday, March 21. Back then, I’d felt a misguided seed of hope, the waiting room almost empty, the screen indicating a seven and half hour wait time. As someone who can read other people’s energies, I could tell right away that the admitting clerk had her opinions about our situation, but I reminded myself of something a dear friend shared with me years ago, that what other people think is none of my business. I knew that her opinions were rooted in ignorance, that she couldn’t possibly know the truth of our experience, and it was okay.
Until it wasn’t. At nine am Sunday (after ten hours of waiting) we were told, after having to ask for even a sliver of information, that we were next in line. New arrivals kept trickling in, people who needed care, but clearly weren’t in an emergency or even urgent situation, but who felt they had no recourse, no better options. Two doctors to serve over fifty people needing care. Three hours later our family member was still in the hallway and still hadn’t been seen by a doctor. Two more hours ticked by. Everyone was exhausted, especially his partner and son, who couldn’t leave. For emotional reasons, but in his partner’s case, she was the only one who knew his medication regimen, who could administer what he needs, and the only one who could calm his severe agitation, which was almost unbearable to witness.
Even I, a usually patient human being, was past my limit. I felt ready to explode with my anger. I didn’t. I took a deep breath. I looked inward, for my resolve. I approached the desk and firmly advocated to speak to someone in charge. Instead, I was directed to one of the unit intake nurses. I told her our situation. I told her it wasn’t acceptable. I said I was well aware of the system limitations, of a severe lack of resources, and of their protocols and procedures, but that I also knew, and that she also knew, that non-urgent cases were being seen. I told her that because our loved one hadn’t been assessed by a doctor, they weren’t fully aware of how urgent his situation was. That it was beyond anything reasonable for a human being to endure. I begged her to please do everything in her power. I expressed my concern, that a lack of action could end up causing further harm, and how horrible that would feel for everyone. It wasn’t a threat, just a real possibility I needed her to consider. She insisted they were doing everything they could. I insisted they could do more. But she dismissed me and I felt like joining the patient who was screaming and raging down the hall. Instead I went back and shared the update with my family. I said, loud enough for witnesses to overhear, that if he wasn’t seen soon, I would be compelled to escalate things. I said I am a writer and could quite easily and happily share this story publicly. I said that the people of this province would not be pleased to learn just how horribly unacceptable our health system is. Tell me, dear reader, was I misguided?
By a stroke of luck, or coincidence, or Divine intervention, depending on your beliefs, very soon after he was taken to the cubicle he still resides in, and very shortly after that he was seen by a doctor for a ten-minute interview and assessment. It was something. But it wasn’t enough. This situation is not okay. We need to speak up to our leaders and demand change and reform. I believe our Premier is a reasonable man, who wants to do the right things, but I know there is pressure on a thousand points and sometimes it’s the squeaky wheel that gets the grease.
Blessings
Rewind back to Monday, March 23, the day of my sixtieth birthday. Because that’s when the blessings began to pour in and refuel me, to give me hope, like the sun, which I moved toward with each birthday message from my loved ones, that began to cast a shadow of my burden behind me. It began with a message in a card from Mister. Then a call from my daughter on the way to the hospital, followed by more well-wishes from my family who were there, on vigil all night, providing the care the health system couldn’t. I hugged them and told them I loved them, then left to wait in the hallway, by the windows, in the sun, while the front-liners took over. I called my daughter back and she gave me the gift of witnessing my experience and her support and love flooded across the miles, followed by super cute photos of my granddaughter, who really is like a ray of sunshine. Mister came out with an update, and I realized it was going to be another long, intense day, and that I could be of little help. I decided in that moment that my birthday gift to myself would be to take care of myself. I called an Uber to take me home.
On the drive to my house, I checked my phone and discovered a voice message from a different daughter, who also lives far away. I put in my earbuds and listened. She sang an original birthday song for me, her voice like an angel. She read a poem she wrote, just for me, that honoured all things good and wonderful about me, Lynda Faye. I found myself smiling ear-to-ear, then laughing out loud, then crying tears of pure joy and gratitude, despite everything. I felt present to the fact I am so loved. What a precious gift! I got home and took care of some housekeeping items. I heated up a cup of coffee Mister had made earlier and sat in my favourite chair to write in my journal. I prepared myself a delicious, healthy meal. Just before I sat down to eat, I heard his footsteps on our wooden deck, and he joined me. He had to go back to hospital right after, so I kissed him goodbye and went up for a rest only to hear a knock on the front door. It was a delivery—gifts from my brother and sister-in-law. I called him and thanked him, then slept for almost an hour. I was preparing homemade Ratatouille for my birthday dinner, sipping a small glass of wine and listening to oldies and jazz piano and bossa nova tunes, when my son and his partner called from Brasilia. I listened to baby giggles, and engaged in lovely, heartwarming conversations about our upcoming trip to Costa Rica, where a group of us are all travelling from different points on the globe to reunite and strengthen our family connections. More birthday messages flooded in, including my oldest daughter, and despite my loneliness and despair and concern, all was well. Goodnight birthday, goodnight moon.
It is incredulous how life can freefall from one extreme experience of burden to another of blessing so quickly and completely. It is impossible for me to feel alone for long, because I have so much love in my life. I realize that’s the secret. It’s love that pulls us through. That’s the insight I want to leave you with, dear reader. It is love that gives us hope and moves us forward, and casts the shadows of our burdens behind us.
COMING UP…
Books & Projects:
· In December 2025 I signed a contract with Austin Macauley Publishers for my manuscript, The Trials of Alex Anderson, a character-driven novel that explores the relationship between mental illness and trauma. I am now on the road to publication, with an expected release date near the end of 2026. I’ll be posting regular updates here on my blog and on social media, so stay tuned for exciting new developments.
· The Rogue Scorpion is available online at Amazon, Chapters-Indigo, and Barnes & Noble. You can also find it at select Chapters-Indigo and El Hombre de la Mancha bookstores.
Reviews & Interviews:
· You can read, listen, or watch a large selection of reviews and interviews on my website.
Events:
· There are no events currently scheduled in my calendar.
YouTube Channel:
Watch The Rogue Scorpion trailer