|
I’m typing tonight’s newsletter in a ham-fisted way, owing to a rather large bandage on my right middle finger.
Long (painful) story short: mandoline slicers are very sharp and extremely unforgiving. And my efforts last week to make a fancy family dinner were cut short when the tip of my finger was separated from the rest of my hand.
Note to self: add “cut-proof gloves” to shopping list. (Larry Crowe / The Associated Press files)
Fortunately, the wait at HSC ER was nowhere as long as feared. Fortunately, the doctor and nurse were both wonderful. Fortunately, I will eventually heal and get back to my old typing speed.
Another fortunate aspect to my mandoline misfortune is that I got to experience firsthand what’s behind so many of the health-care headlines our newsroom has written.
I witnessed how clogged that waiting room was with challenges that go far beyond what our health-care system was designed to handle. I counted five police officers spending hours in the ER rather than fighting crime on the streets.
I listened to a nurse close to losing her cool with someone who insisted her name was Mary-Kate Olsen and who was treating the triage desk as if it was a drive-through window from which she could order free food.
I prayed that everyone on duty would find the will to somehow defy the odds and get through the waiting room that got ever more crowded while I was being treated.
I’m not sure if an ER visit for the tip of my finger counts as a tipping point in making the case for local newspapers. But there’s something to be said for a newsroom led by someone who shares the same experiences as the community it serves.
I feel the same bone-jarring jolts from the potholes on our streets. I pass the same corners of Main Street and see the opioid crisis play out in displays of the “fentanyl fold.”
I breathe the same smoke from wildfires and see my breath during winter’s never-ending cold snaps. I feel the same lift when our city is celebrating White Out parties or parading the Grey Cup down Portage Avenue.
And it’s not just me who gets what it means to live in this city and province. It’s our reporters, photographers and editors, too, all rooted in this community.
The reporters, photographers and editors putting together our pages and pixels all walk the same streets as our readers. (Mikaela MacKenzie / Free Press files)
Tonight’s reminder of the deep local roots of the Free Press comes as so much of the media ecosystem is uprooted, unmoored and increasingly unhinged.
Most local newsrooms are shrinking, rather than growing. Many local newsrooms are directed from afar, usually Toronto. Some local newscasts are brought to you by anchors in a studio far removed from our city.
At the same time, influencers and AI newsbots who can’t even spell Winnipeg — let alone find it on a map — increasingly hold sway.
Trust matters. And we tend to trust the people closest to us.
I love the fact my life and the lives of those our newsroom serves are intertwined and inseparable. It’s what makes the Free Press “Canada Proud and Manitoba Strong.”
If I can finish this intro on another personal note, I’d like to mention the son who drove me to the HSC ER gives me a connection to another health-care headline from our newsroom.
Earlier today, he was part of the newest class of medical-school students at the University of Manitoba to take the Physician’s Pledge.
First-year medical students don their white coats in a ceremony earlier today at the Max Rady College of Medicine. (Mike Deal / Free Press)
For years, our newsroom has written about the province’s physician shortage. In four years, he hopes to be helping fill that gap for Manitobans — including those who have a nasty run-in with a mandoline.
|
