Tag: writing

Retirement Reflections: Stories and Lessons Learned

September 6, 2025

Standing on our dock by the lake, we engaged in conversation with a woman paddling in a kayak. She introduced herself by sharing that she had just retired at the age of fifty-six after teaching for thirty-two years at the high school level. She expressed that the energy to get up in the morning and face her students was no longer there. Although she didn’t have a specific plan for her retirement yet, she was enjoying exploring the lake by boat and getting involved in her community’s social activities. She hoped she had made the right decision to retire and not work longer.

In contrast, when I had a tooth extracted the next day, the technician said she enjoyed her job and has yet to consider retiring after spending forty-two years in the office.

I compared the experiences of these two people with the retirement of some family members. My cousin secured a job right after graduating from university and spent decades enjoying his work without giving retirement a thought. However, he lost his job at age 76 due to organizational downsizing. He sought similar positions elsewhere but was unable to find one, even with the help of a job hunter. So, he turned to podcasting about making drinks with his dog as an observer and taster, keeping him engaged. Another example was my mathematician brother, who dedicated his life to teaching and writing papers until his passing. He never pursued hobbies; to him, mathematics was his passion.

These examples prompted me to reflect on whether there is an ideal age to retire. I thought of a couple of friends who retired in their early fifties.

One friend started a business after retirement, at age fifty, inspired by his passion for photography. The company closed within a year, likely because the goals he set were difficult to attain. After that experience, he took on a volunteer responsibility of leading the local photo club for several years. Eventually, he and his wife purchased timeshares in the Caribbean and began cruising around the world. His interest in photography, cruising, and staying at timeshares has ebbed recently.

Another friend retired at age fifty-four. During the summer season, he cycled and became the leader of the local bicycling club. During the winter season, he and his wife traveled internationally until they decided to stay in Mexico during the winter to escape the cold Canadian winters. His cycling days are over, but they still go to Mexico for the winter.

Both friends retired thirty-two years ago, which, in one case, is longer than the length of his working life.

Interestingly, both individuals tend to express conservative views on topics such as politics, crime, and the environment. In particular, I am surprised to hear from one that climate change is not real and from the other that environmental studies are a waste of money. Were my friends consistently conservative, or have they become so after a long period of retirement?

It is also noteworthy that both of these friends had employment with one organization from their college graduation to their retirement. And they did not seek out another job after leaving their first and only job in their career. They retired relatively early, possibly because their roles within their workplace no longer provided sufficient challenges, or there may have been incentives for them to leave.

My experience has been different. I moved from working in the public sector to the private sector and then to my own consulting business. I enjoyed all of my jobs, public and private, and continued working until much later in life than many people.

In my last career as a consultant, the work was very exciting and interesting until I acquired some clients whom I found unpleasant to work with. I also started traveling, and other hobbies gradually took priority, making the consulting work less appealing. No question, changing jobs and facing new challenges made work enjoyable and satisfying.

I have always sought something meaningful in my retirement, such as international charity work and writing a memoir, which prompted me to take writing courses to improve my writing skills. The most boring time for me is when I have no projects on the go. Paradoxically, that is also the time for dreaming up new projects.

My conclusion on the subject of retirement is that if you are happy with your work, keep on working.

Notes on Canadian Healthcare

August 23, 2025

While sitting on the porch facing the lake with my laptop open on the table, healthcare unexpectedly came to mind. It was a perfect summer morning, and with a coffee in hand, I thought about how true it is for a healthy life to live with and enjoy nature.

 Canadian healthcare has a good reputation, particularly outside the country. Although it is a universal system, accessibility remains an issue, especially for those without a family doctor. Twenty percent of Ontario families have no family doctor. These individuals end up seeking medical assistance in emergency departments, where there is a shortage of emergency physicians and nursing staff. Because of that, many emergency departments have been forced to close for a day or even a week.

A tragic example highlights this issue: a sixteen-year-old boy arrived at an emergency unit and was triaged as a “second” priority patient. This designation means that a doctor should ideally see him within fifteen minutes. The boy received attention only several hours later. He ultimately passed away due to the delay.

Not in the same horrid category as the above example, I had experience with our healthcare system recently that raised some questions in my mind. I twisted my leg, which made walking quite painful. After a few days with no improvements, I visited my family doctor, who provided requisitions for an X-ray and an ultrasound to determine what was wrong with my knee. However, I expressed my concerns about the long wait times for an ultrasound— the imaging center near us has openings in six months. She heard from other patients about the long wait times and suggested an imaging place on the east end of Ottawa, where one of her patients had the treatment in a month. I wondered if I really had to wait that long to find out what was wrong with my leg before any treatment could begin.

In the meantime, the doctor gave me Voltaren to help alleviate the pain, but it didn’t work for me. As a result, I scheduled an appointment with a physiotherapist, who used needling and massage techniques on the painful area and prescribed some exercises. I noticed significant improvement within just a few days.

I went to the doctor with the expectation that she would diagnose the issue and recommend a treatment plan. Instead, she provided me with requisitions for further investigations. Since the pain has been subsiding with exercise the physiotherapist suggested, I have not followed up with the requisitions. The doctor did not mention physiotherapy as a treatment.

While speaking with my family doctor, I requested a prescription for an EpiPen. I had one previously, but it had expired. She informed me that my records did not indicate a need for an EpiPen, so she was unable to prescribe one. I do not know what policies exist for prescribing EpiPen. I reminded her that I had used an EpiPen for ten years. However, she reviewed my records with this medical group that goes back six years, and there was no documentation of my previous EpiPen use. (We joined this medical group when our previous family doctor retired, and the practitioner we initially started with did not request my medical records although I offered to get it). I also mentioned to her that I had a wasp sting incident after stepping on a wasp nest. Following that, an allergist gave me shots for a few years to build my resistance to wasp stings and prescribed an EpiPan for ten years.

Following my explanation, the doctor gave me a prescription for an EpiPen. Still, this experience made me realize that a lifetime healthcare data system would be highly beneficial. Everyone should have their complete health history in one place.

I have access to my health history that is on multiple data systems. Two of the three hospitals that I visited in Ottawa use a system called “MyChart” that includes all my testing and hospitalization data. The third hospital in Ottawa uses another system called “ConnectedCare” and has my history with this hospital. Then I use a lab for blood work and other tests, and I subscribe to their data system to access their results. And, of course, my family doctor receives data from all of these systems. What is missing is the history from my retired family doctor, when most of the data was handwritten.

But beyond medical results, we use other health-related experts. We visit dentists, optometrists, physiotherapists, personal trainers, and other health care professionals. Wouldn’t it be beneficial to have all of this information together in one system?

Building Friendships at the Cottage: A New Perspective

August 1, 2025

We know our neighbors better on the island where our cottage is, than those where we live. I found that curious and made me think why.

Many people go to their summer homes to relax, to leave the city behind, and to be alone to regenerate their physical and mental health. I thought that cottagers prefer to be left alone. But I found the opposite to be the truth.

Before I go any further, I should explain how we arrived purchasing a cottage that may have relevance to my argument. We camped and tented for our vacations in the beginning until our one-year-old child woke up in an inch of water from a downpour one night. This prompted us to purchase a tent trailer, ensuring we would be above ground in case of a storm.

The tent trailer took us to Florida, the west coast (Vancouver), the east coast (Charlottetown) and many camp grounds in Ontario and New York State. The whole family enjoyed traveling and sightseeing with a tent trailer.

However, as the children grew up, summer camps, sports activities, and jobs made it inconvenient to travel with them, and we sold the tent trailer.

At the time I sold the tent trailer, a friend invited us to visit their cottage, and we canoed to their place on an islad. We had so much fun on the lake that day that we stayed overnight, and I decided I must have a cottage on this island. When I found a cottage for sale, I made a stink bid in the fall, a poor time to sell it. Since the couple owning the property was going through a divorce and the wife wanted her share of the money at once, they agreed to sell it. That property had good “bones”, or structure, but was unfinished and needed a lot of work.

The first task with our newly acquired property was to finish the ceiling with the tiles already stacked in the cottage. When mice dropped from the ceiling onto Kathy while she was sleeping in the bedroom, finishing the ceiling became the number one task. Other projects followed, like building steps going up the hill to the cottage, where there was a dirt path that was slippery when wet.

We also joined the local cottagers’ association, a common group in such communities. The primary function of these groups is to have an annual meeting with a BBQ event, providing the opportunity to meet others. At these AGMs, there are also talks about subjects of interest to all, like water filter systems, and how to avoid mosquitoes and ticks. Once the ice is broken, friendships form. A few years ago, there was an even bridge club on the island.

This weekend’s visit with a few neighbors shaped my views on our cottage community. The next-door neighbor from New Jersey invited us for dinner, and the discussion flowed easily despite our diverse backgrounds and lifestyles. We learned more about the neighbors’ families than we ever knew about our neighbors in town.  

Our neighbors from Michigan invited us to their spacious deck that same weekend. During a discussion about where they met, we learned that the man’s Vietnam experience ended with an injury, resulting from a grenade blowing up next to him, with long-term consequences. This neighbor has done a lot of work on his cottage and has accumulated a wide range of construction equipment. I found one of his tools helpful, a heavy-duty jack that I borrowed to lift up my sinking dock.

We paid a visit to another old friend from Pennsylvania. His grandson was there keeping them company. During our visit, another neighbor dropped in and brought a bag of fresh samosas from Toronto. We all had one and admired the new ceiling completed in their large entertainment room.

Never to miss our Canadian friends from Ottawa, we walked over to their immense deck the next day, where they always relax with a book and a glass of wine in the afternoon.

Although socializing is fun, the weekend was also work; Kathy power washed the outside decks, which are substantial, about one thousand square feet, with a wraparound deck extending into steps leading to the waterfront. I used a weed-eater to clear the front and back yards. I shaved the grass to the ground to make sure no ticks would enjoy my yard, ticks thrive in tall grass, and I had some bad experiences with them just a few weeks ago.

Despite seeing these people only during the summer months, I found that we know more about them than we know about our city neighbors. It could be because in town, most people work. In cottage land, people take their time to hang out, relax, and enjoy seeing others doing the same. Vacationing is a good time to make friends, and cottaging offers such an opportunity.

The Art of Negotiating: Lessons from Hiring Experiences

July 17, 2025

This is just anecdotal and not based on any detailed research. But impressions are essential. The first story started with a knock on my front door. A young man introduced himself and offered to trim my cedar hedge, which is a bit disheveled and can be seen clearly from the street. My hedge needs a trim, so I asked him to provide an estimate. He walked along the hedge and came back to say that his team could do it for $250. Seeing my hesitation, he brought down the price to $200.

That sounded good to me, based on experience with hedge trimming. Before making any decisions, I wanted to learn about his experience and the composition of his team. Six recent college graduates formed a team, he explained, with three of them knocking on doors to generate business, and the other three handling trimming. I thought they had no experience at all. However, he assured me that they possessed all the necessary equipment, including tall ladders and trimming equipment.

Now I am always positive about young people initiating a business, and I told him I’ll think about it and to come back next week. I prefer not to make impulsive decisions. And he did come back a few days later. When I asked him when he could do the trim, he took another walk along the same hedge. He came back, explaining that it is a tall hedge on sloping ground, making it challenging to place the ladders. It is a tall hedge, over twelve feet. So, he concluded that the price would be $600.

I said what? Now, wait a minute, I said. You told me a few days ago that it would be $250. My voice indicated exasperation and disbelief. I even smiled at him, at his chutzpah in more than doubling the price. He suddenly changed his mind and offered to do the job for $300. That offer made me more than upset, and I said that I do not negotiate; you gave me a price, and I expected you to honor it. He decided to walk away.

By the way, I thought his final price was reasonable, but I did not like the way he behaved. What guarantee did I have that his work would be good and the cleanup complete?

Several thoughts crossed my mind. When one starts a new business, one marketing approach is to undercut the current market. One should demonstrate that the new company is superior to existing alternatives in at least one way. Why should anyone pay competitive pricing for a new product or service without testing it?

Next story. A couple of people were trimming the cedar hedge behind my house. I walked to the back of my garden and asked if they would be interested in cutting my cedar hedge as well. If so, I asked them to come over and give me an estimate. They did come over after finishing their job, and a young fellow said that he would message me his estimate later that day. Before leaving, I asked him about his background in landscaping and learned that he was studying to be an arborist. That sounded relevant to the job, and I awaited his estimate.

To my surprise, the estimate came in at $900, significantly above what I thought was fair (by the way, I had asked him to trim more of my cedar hedge than I had asked the young fellow I described above). To my response that he was way out of line, he messaged back that he was a bit high and that he could do it for $700. I responded negatively, to which he answered by asking me what I thought was a fair price so that he could learn from it. I give him high marks for sincerity, but why didn’t he work for a hedge trimming company and learn the pricing in the trade before starting his own business?

Now, these two stories do not provide a definitive characterization of today’s young people, millennials, to be sure. But I found it surprising that both started with a high estimate. Why did they not start with a low estimate (the first one did, but when it came to doing the job, he doubled the price)? Or, why did they not ask me what I would pay for the task? That would not be a bad approach; I think most people would come up with a reasonable estimate. When you start working, do you not need to obtain some contracts and build up experience that you can use as a form of advertising?

The new services introduced by the international telecom company I worked for were offered at less than half the price of those offered by our competitors. The purpose was to have our services used and tested by customers, demonstrating the superior quality and features of our services in comparison to the competition. The point is that the seller, a new entrant to an existing market, has to demonstrate the value of their services before prices can be raised.

I was frankly disappointed in the two young fellows trying their hands at establishing a new business without doing some background work, especially in asking for prices way above market rates.

My Emergency Room Journey: Insights and Reflections

July 6, 2025

I discovered I lost seven pounds. It was not a diet; I spent four days at the hospital, a day in the emergency observation unit, and then three days on a ward. What took me there was high fever alternating with chills in between and a general crappy feeling.

Kathy dropped me off at the Emergency entrance of the Civic Hospital, where I showed my health card and was told to sit down and join the fifty other patients in the waiting room. I observed with interest the people, some of whom did not seem to be sick at all, while others were in wheelchairs. There were people of all ages, and all ethnicities dressed informally.

The elderly gentleman, with a white beard and a black t-shirt featuring a giant fox on the front, impressed me because he wore a t-shirt befitting a teenager while having the demeanor of an academic. His partner gently guided him along while he also brandished a cane.

And then a huge African Canadian man squeezed himself into the narrow chair next to me, in a cloud of perfume, wearing multiple chains around his neck with his long hair neatly braided. Excuse me, I thought there were signs advising against using any perfume. Then he got up when the loudspeaker system called for Josephine.

Then the triage nurse took my vital health signs and gave me a bottle for a urine sample, assuming I could void at that time. I rejoined the waiting room after completing what I was instructed to do. An hour later, I was called to the registration station, where an agent placed a paper bracelet on my wrist with my DOB, name, and ID number.  

Then it was back to the waiting room again, where a sudden commotion broke out with three large policemen pushing a hollering woman into the room. Many people averted their eyes while I wanted to see why she was yelling, “I cannot take this anymore.” The policemen waited for the staff to take the hollering individual off their hands.

Complicating this atmosphere of general buzz, a young girl was throwing up, and people were getting up to register at different windows. Ambulance drivers were also pushing gurneys through the waiting room. You would think that waiting for treatment would be boring; I found the entire scene fascinating to observe. It appeared to be controlled chaos. 

I thought of getting a cup of coffee and some food to carry me through after a few hours of waiting, only to discover that the vending machines were not working. Kathy went outside and entered the main hospital door, where there were fast food places, and picked up some food for me. I wondered how people without a companion would obtain food without missing their turn when called. Finally, they called my name and instructed me to follow the yellow dots on the floor, which led to the “urgent care” door. Nine colored dots were running in parallel and then peeling off in different directions.

In one of the examining rooms in the urgent care unit, they took my blood from both arms and put me through tests. An hour later, a medical student interviewed me and said he would advise the emergency doctor, who would then advise me on the next steps. In the meantime, I socialized with my neighbor, a young woman with sepsis, who showed me a portion of her arm from where four skinny hoses hung out of a port. I did not think I wanted to further our medical conversation about her history of sepsis.

 I had been here for over five hours when the Emergency Department doctor showed up and explained that I seemed to be alright overall but had an infection and ordered a CT scan of my pelvic region. My mind did not connect the CT scan with my complaint that brought me in here; it was beyond my comprehension. I just waited to have the scan completed and then waited again until the nurse showed up with a couple of pages of text and a prescription for two medicines. One was an antibiotic, while the other had something to do with acid reflux and GERD; the latter was a complete mystery to me. But I was drained and happy to get out after seven hours in the ED without asking any further questions.

The antibiotic prescription did not work; after four days, I still had a fever and chills. I found antibiotics to work in a day or so in the past, so it was time to go back to the hospital, this time to another one, the Queensway Carleton. After seeing the triage nurse, I was pleasantly surprised when a young attendant quietly asked me if I was Andy. When I said that it was me, she asked me to follow her into the ED observation rooms, where they put me in a cubicle. I asked the attendant how she knew who I was and found out that I looked my age and was the only one of my age in the waiting room, one benefit of growing old.

They performed all the blood work and testing again, and then it was a matter of waiting again. However, I knew I could ask for some food that they provided for lunch, a nice feature. In this ED, a doctor came around to discuss my symptoms, and later the internal medicine doctor came and provided a diagnosis that was satisfying, knowing that he was pretty convinced I had a tickborne infection called anaplasmosis. The reason the previous antibiotic did not work, in his opinion, was that it did not address this infection; it targeted Lyme disease. By the way, I have recently read several articles about the proliferation of ticks in the Northeast, attributed to the warming climate.

So, the treatment started with an IV drip and doxycycline pills, a double attack to begin the healing, while waiting for the blood analysis proving that it was anaplasmosis. Start the treatment and save time while waiting for confirmation.

Now, if you have ever been in an ED space overnight, you know that it is not the place for a quiet sleep. The traffic was constant all night, in addition to the nurses taking your vital signs every couple of hours. So, little snippets of sleep, each two hours in duration, was my night. The next day, they found a room for me upstairs, advising me that my infection had to improve before they would let me go home.

I was miffed to find out that I was in a geriatric ward until my daughter informed me that I was one of them chronologically, if not by physical condition.

Sleeping in the ward was a bit better than sleeping in the ED space, although bells were ringing all night, patients were requesting attention, and the nurses still checked my vitals every three hours, day and night.

Furthermore, I found out I was in a ward with Alzheimer’s patients, and my next-door neighbor was either yelling, listening to a radio, or crying. I heard the nurse coming, informing her colleagues that she brought some “great” music for the gentleman next door: Nat King Cole and Dolly Parton. Fortunately, I enjoy a wide range of music. By the way, I couldn’t leave the ward without someone taking me, due to the type of ward I was in.

And then the nurse came in with the news that I would have to wear a pulsating sleeve on my leg, powered by an air pump, to prevent a blood clot from forming due to lying in bed all day (the name of the gadget was a sequential compression comfort sleeve). Wait a minute, I said, what do I do when I have to void at night? No problem, the nurse said, “You just take off the sleeve. I didn’t like the idea at all, since I get up a few times a night. Without saying another word, the nurse left and consulted with someone. When she returned, she explained that instead of the sleeve, I would get a shot in my belly to thin my blood. I had no choice at this time.

With the daily blood work showing improvement, they decided to let me go home in three days with a doxycycline prescription for another four days. And a follow-up visit with the infectious disease doctor.

Overall, I would have preferred not to have the experience. But going from feeling awful to good was worth it. The amount of attention I received from the nurses and doctors was genuinely excellent at the Queensway Carleton Hospital. Also impressive is the amount of paperwork I found on my account, which documents all the tests and the extensive reporting by doctors on X-rays, CT scans, ECGs, and the opinions of specialists in emergency medicine, internal medicine, and infectious diseases. And don’t forget, I’m still down seven pounds!