The Citizen, 2005-10-13, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 13, 2005. PAGE 5.
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How does your garden grow ?
The more one gardens, the more one learns.
The more one learns the more one realizes.
- Vita Sackville-West
hh, autumn. Bitter-sweet, happy-sad
autumn. From my window I can see
the big-leaf maples shimmying into
their annual striptease while overhead
disciplined chevrons of geese practise aerial
maneuvers preparatory to blowing this pop
stand.
Il’s autumn alright. And once again I have
been defeated.
No. ‘Defeated’ is too kind. I have been
routed. Shamed. Humiliated. Cruelly slam-
dunked and left for dead. I refer of course to
my garden.
Well, not ‘garden’ exactly. I refer to that
misbegotten patch of rogue real estate in my
yard that was by now supposed to be a
splendid cornucopia of succulent vegetables
and sensual fruits hanging heavy on the vine
and fair to bursting out of their skins.
It is to whimper brokenly. My sweet corn
looks impressive from a distance. The stalks
are well over head-high, green and robust. But
the ears they ‘support’ are a cruel misshapen
joke. More like nubbly baby fingers, pale
white and juiceless.
And tomatoes? Hah. If memory serves, (and
it will have to) I planted four varieties - a
beefsteak, a Roma, one red and one yellow
cherry tomato plant. I stand to harvest, if I can
be bothered, a pants-pocket’s worth of
bright green marbles, hard as jade and just as
juicy.
Well, I lie. My tomatoes aren’t all green.
Two of them turned brown. Before they died.
My summer’s labour has produced a sadistic
parody of a garden. Cabbages the size of
snooker balls. Peas that look like mummified
apostrophes. Carrots worthy of a backyard
Some doctors need to keep paws off
Too many doctors are unable to keep
their hands off patients and it is
becoming more difficult to keep
sweeping this under the rug.
Concern of sexual abuse of female patients
by a small proportion of male doctors has
increased over the past decade.
This column claimed recently it is among
reasons doctors no longer are on the pedestal
on which the public traditionally has placed
them.
The Ontario Medical Association, which
represents doctors, leaped as if jabbed with a
blunt needle, accusing the writer of being
negative and in the dark.
The OMA said doctors are required to keep
to the highest standards and, while some in
every profession behave badly, cases of
doctors misbehaving are few and far between.
It added most doctors do all they can for
their patients, although this was never in
dispute.
The College of Physicians and Surgeons of
Ontario, which licenses and regulates doctors,
has now delivered what is in effect a second
opinion not supportive of the OMA.
The college normally reports its disciplinary
actions against doctors in its official
newsletter, published six times a year, at the
rate of an average couple per issue.
But it has dealt with so many recently it said
it is taking the unusual step of making its
latest, October issue “a special edition devoted
entirely to the publication of discipline
summaries.”
It said this was necessary because there has
been a sharp increase in the number of
hearings of complaints against doctors and this
has created a backlog in publishing them it has
to reduce.
plot in Chernobyl.
Old Edgar up the street looks over my
Edenic Ground Zero and nods sagely. “Oh, ya.
Cold spring. ‘Way too much rain in April and
May. Ground never really warmed up in
time.”
Old Edgar is too kind. Neither grey skies,
excess moisture nor clammy, unresponsive
earth caused my horticultural .calamity. It was
me and my Black Thumb.
This year’s it-is-to-laugh ‘crop’ is but the
latest variation on a traditional theme that
unspools every fall as cyclically and
predictably as the seasons themselves. I plant
a garden, nurture it faithfully then stand by
with my Lee Valley hoe in hand and watch it
sicken and die.
Not only am I a rotten gardener; I’m a slow
learner.
My garden is seldom this bad but it’s never
up to much. I remember one autumn when I
managed to glean a few goodies from the
earth. Emboldened by semi-success I was
foolish enough to do a ‘cost-benefit’ analysis
of my harvest. Just how much money was 1
saving by eating home-grown instead of store-
bought?
I toted up the price of seeds, fertilizer,
tomato cages. Not to mention the unexpected
— polypropylene netting to discourage
rabbits, Back-Eze tablets for my overwrought
lumbar region and 20 bucks worth of vintage
Eric
Dowd
From
Queen’s Park
The wrongdoings included doctors charging
for treatments they did not give and doctors
providing substandard service, but most were
of sexual abuse.
In one, Dr. Alan Ralph Abelsohn of Toronto
was found to have sexually abused a woman
patient on more than 30 occasions by rubbing
his hands over her breast and buttocks. The
college suspended his licence for 12 months.
Dr. Stanley Thomas Dobrowolski of London
was suspended for six months after he treated
a woman for depression by means including
massaging the top of her leg. He also met her
in a hotel room where she said he fondled her
breasts.
Dr. James Rolf Gatrall of Windsor had sex
with one woman patient several times in his
office and with another in exchange for
prescribing a medically unnecessary drug to
which she became addicted. The college took
away his licence.
Dr. Larry Scott Henderson of Whitby treated
a woman and her children for five years and
soon after began a romantic and sexual
relationship with her, which the college ruled
dishonorable and unprofessional, and it
suspended his licence for three months.
Dr. Vasilios Kavouris of Brampton treated a
woman, her husband and children and had a
romantic relationship with her that included
clothing from Value Village to dress my
scarecrow.
Even discounting my own blood, sweat and
tears at minimum wage, I calculated that the
garden tomatoes that graced my dinner table
set me back about $29.95 apiece.
Discouraged? Hell, no. (Did 1 mention that I
was a slow learner?)
I have a brand new plan for next year’s
garden. It's all based on some nutritional
research 1 came across in an obscure
agricultural journal.
Listen to this:
Protein content of broccoli: 3.0 gms. Of
lamb’s quarters: 4.2.
Calcium content of leaf lettuce 18 mg. Of
purslane: 65.
Magnesium content of leaf spinach: 49 mg.
Of dock: 63 mg.
For you non-gardeners out there let me
explain what lamb’s quarters, purslane and
dock are.
Weeds! Common, garden and non-garden
variety junk plants. Stuff that I’ve blistered my
palms and cricked my back to hack out of my
garden for years.
Turns out they’re more nutritious than the
produce I’ve (not) been growing.
I can harvest these things, folks. Hell,
they’re in my garden, prime for harvesting
right now.
Along with amaranth (three times the iron of
lettuce) and dandelion (twice the calcium of
spinach).
“A weed is no more than a flower in
disguise.”
James Russell Lowell said that.
“I'm going to have a great garden next
year’.
I said that.
Did I mention that I am a slow learner?
some sexual contact, and the college
suspended him for nine months.
Dr. Philip Daniel Kernerman of Toronto,
while working in two hospitals, behaved on a
number of occasions in what the college called
an inappropriate or sexually suggestive
manner to female staff and visitors. His
licence was revoked.
Dr. Stephen George Ross of Tottenham
stood too close to patients and nurses in a
hospital and poked and touched them
inappropriately and touched his genitals. He
said he was being playful, but the college
found this unprofessional and reprimanded
him.
Dr. Ian Kent Shiozaki of Newboro had a
nurse whom he also treated and fondled her
breasts and they undressed and he lay on top
of her in his office, although they did not have
intercourse. The college suspended him for six
months.
Dr. Mark Lawrence Waxman of Hamilton
had sex with two women patients. He
discussed the marital problems of one and then
went to her home, where they had intercourse
regularly, and the college revoked his licence.
So many cases underline doctors are in a
special position to take advantage of
vulnerable women and this is not a small issue,
although some pretend it barely exists.
Final Thought
Courage is the capacity to conduct oneself
with restraint in times of prosperity and
with courage and tenacity when things do
not go well.
' i - James V. Forrestal
Bonnie
Gropp
The short of it
Celebrate community
They say it takes a community to raise a
child. If that is true it’s a distinct
advantage for those growing up in our
rural area.
Last week, the Brussels Public School
council hosted Family Fun in the Fall. The
hope was that it would be an event to be
enjoyed not just by students and their families,
but by the entire community. And when it
comes to children it would seem that’s not too
much to ask. Organizers were thrilled by the
event’s success. Many attended not because
they had any connection to the school but
simply to show their support. The arena
auditorium was packed and the simple
entertainment, the festive atmosphere
reminded me of the family fun and frolics I
attended as a youngster.
I grew up in a small town, bigger than the
one I live in now, but small by the standards of
city folk. That was brought home to me when I
first left it and was introduced to the
anonymity that comes with living in a large
urban centre. The things that I had chaffed at
back in my hometown — the familiarity, the
simplicity — I suddenly missed.
For the most part, my formative years were
spent in an idyllic Mayberry-type existence.
Twilight games of pick-up ball, rainy days for
reading and convivial evenings filled with
friends, sleepovers and backyard tenting I
rode on tractors, played in empty chicken
coops and wandered down country roads in
search of empty bottle, for spending money.
There were family dances held outdoors in
out-of-the way places.
We hiked, explored and found mystery And
never once gave a thought to the notion that the
world might be a scary place. We didn’t have
to, because while the person next to us may not
have been a neighbour or friend, they probably
weren’t a stranger either.
Many eyes watched us and protected us.
Of course, there was a downside to this
close-knit security system as well. We knew
that any transgression, any moment of
mischief would somehow miraculously find its
way back to mom and dad.
Then suddenly things started to change. The
town grew, new people moved in and others
moved away. The times were different too.
Let’s face it, things just got strange in the
1960s. And from then on society’s forward
motion accelerated at such a fast pace that
there was little left to recognize about the
simple life as I’d known it.
I was surprised when settling in a village
almost 30 years ago to be reminded of it once
again. As a mom with young children I
suddenly found myself back in a community
where many eyes were keeping watch. People
got to know you quickly and knew when
something looked wrong.
Certainly, there are times such familiarity
can be suffocating; the rumour mill thrives in
small towns and assumptions can often curve
sharply away from realities. However, it is also
an existence, rare in this bizarre world that
allows children some freedom. People look out
for each other. It’s evident in so many aspects
of rural life, from pulling together in tragedy
and hardship, to supporting local causes, to
throwing one heck of a celebration.
Brussels school council should be
congratulated on not just throwing one heck of
a celebration but in finding a way to make that
celebration one of community.