By: Betty Bechtel
I wish to thank the many students who came to my rescue on Nov. 29 at around 3.30 p.m.
I was picking up litter in front of my home when I slipped on the grass and fell, hitting the right side of my head on the sidewalk. Many students came to help me. Two, whose names I have forgotten, said they were in Health Sciences; helped me to get up and to retrieve my glasses. They also gave me a Kleenex as I was bleeding from a cut on my forehead. They offered various forms of help. I thought I would be fine, thanked them and went into my home to clean the wound, apply a pressure bandage and a cold compress.
Later I noticed that the two young women were still at the front of my house. They informed me that they had called 911. I mentioned to them that I was a retired nurse and thanked them for their caring and help.
The paramedics checked me over and reminded me about getting a tetanus shot. This was good advice as I would not have remembered on my own. I'm 86. They made several suggestions about further help, which I did not think I required. The next day I saw my doctor and had the tetanus shot. The wound is healing very well although my right eye looks like I had a run-in with someone!
I remarked to the paramedics that we have many wonderful caring students in this community. They agreed.
With the thoughtfulness, concern and quick action shown by these many young future leaders, we know the future is in good hands.
My best wishes and thanks to all of you.
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Flint is one of Hamilton’s sister cities. It is located in the state of Michigan, and it has a population of 102,434. It would take roughly four hours to fly there, and like Hamilton, it was built upon a prominent trade industry (in our case, steel; in theirs, lumber). We don’t typically have much to do with Flint, and most of the time the idea of a “sister city” seems like something arbitrarily assigned across the globe.
Our status as sister cities was made official by Sister Cities International, and we have been linked to them — along with our other sister city, Fukuyama, Japan — for close to 60 years.
We aren’t very close, geographically or socially, but we hold a connection with them that is beyond our local bounds. For those who do not know, the citizens of Flint are currently the victims of a water crisis. Their only sources of water have been contaminated due to old and poorly maintained piping infrastructure made of lead, and their water is currently considered poisonous. They need $55 million dollars to fix the existing damage, and their citizens, including children, the elderly and animals, are falling ill at a rapid pace.
We know that they need help, and we know that we’re intrinsically on their side, but why aren’t we, as a community, doing anything?
Hamilton’s Mayor Eisenberg has reached out to the mayor of Flint, offering to provide necessary aid, but aside from one dedicated citizen donating a few thousand water bottles to the city, we don’t have much else to show for ourselves in terms of providing tangible help in any form. And when I refer to “us” or “our,” I don’t necessarily just mean the city as a whole, but the separate McMaster community as well.
It’s an age-old fact that McMaster students have found it difficult to assimilate into the city and become members of the community. But so long as we are living, working, or being educated here, we are part of the “City of Hamilton.” And with that being said, we are more connected to our brothers and sisters in Flint than any other university community.
Our lack of initiative related to helping Flint speaks to the rough connection we have as a university to our city and municipal responsibilities.
Flint has multiple colleges and universities within its borders. Students and faculty are people who are being affected by this lead poisoning, and if we were in their place, the support of our sister university could mean a lot and make a difference.
The University and its hospital are two of the largest businesses in the city. Even if the city may not necessarily be able to provide some form of financial support to the citizens of Flint, it could be possible that the lucrative business of our institution could be able to provide help in some way, shape or form.
Our lack of initiative related to helping Flint speaks to the rough connection we have as a university to our city and municipal responsibilities, a shortcoming that we have been trying to mend. Many people have no idea that Flint is Hamilton’s sister city, let alone that Hamilton has sister cities. While most students can get away with going a full undergrad not getting to know their city, when something like this comes up, as members of this community, we should be proactive (as we are with many other initiatives on campus) in doing something to help or raise awareness for this cause. As a campus, the biggest thing we have going for us, outside of our finances, are our numbers. We have bodies, and lots of them, who can stand up and make a difference for a municipality that doesn’t have a lot of support from elsewhere, and one that is an innate part of our own city culture.
Not too far from us, and not too long ago, the town of Walkerton, Ontario was in a somewhat similar situation with an E. coli problem. The town benefited from the help of its neighbours, and Flint is now in an even worse situation that needs dire help. We may not always identify with this city we live in, but when Hamilton and its related communities needs us, we need to be there to help facilitate action and effort.
Photo Credit: Rebecca Cook/ Reuters
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My entire weekend was not spent writing in the unmade comfort of my bed as I am now. It was in part spent taking a number in the emergency room entrance to St. Joseph’s.
My arrival had been preceded by a not insignificant amount of whining on my part, countered by the steely caring of my housemate, hell-bent on my health. Though accustomed to my insistent independence, this time she’d dug in her heels and forcibly accompanied me to the ER.
In the second waiting room there was a young couple, a man and woman, across from us; the man making jokes despite his possible hip fracture, the woman laughing earnestly. But when he was looking away, I saw her steal glances of compassion so sincere I felt guilty to have seen them.
I remembered an experience I’d had in November of last year, when I was spelunking in Kentucky. It was the first cave of the trip, and my group was made up of myself and about eight other people. About two-thirds through we were about three-thirds covered in mud, and making our way down a somewhat tall space. By tall I mean I could stand up straight, which I was doing, holding onto a ridge of limestone as I waited for the person in front of me to move forward. All of a sudden, my feet slipped in the mud (affectionately called “peanut butter mud”) and I fell onto my side.
Now I’m pretty accustomed to falling, so my legs and hips were fine, but I felt a slight twinge in my left hand’s fingers. I looked down at them, but the palm was so completely covered in mud that it was a rather useless exercise. A few steps later though, my suspected cut had revealed itself as a totally real cut by trying to bleed all over the cave wall. I asked to have the first-aid kit passed back to me, and apologized for the holdup.
Resultantly drawing the attention of two trip supervisors and a fellow student, I grudgingly realized that given the severity and location of the cut, I couldn’t clean and bandage it by myself. As they dotted cheerfully over me like a trio of older brothers, I felt a bit of my reluctance melt away.
I remembered a time a year before that, my first time getting really sick in first year. In between classes I was grabbing some food with my housemate-to-be and she brought me to her residence’s common room so we could eat in peace. I’d bought a hashbrown to cheer me up, but couldn’t eat it I was feeling so unwell. I asked if she would sing to me, “Wave Over Wave” by The Great Big Sea.
I’m not used to accepting help, whether it be forced upon me, because I simply can’t do it or because I’ve reached a point of complete exhaustion and defeat. I’ve described myself as “stubbornly independent,” but it’s probably just a euphemism for a pride that’s somehow bruised by helping hands.
I know that’s silly. I know there’s real strength in being able to reach out, ask for help, rely - even just sometimes - on someone other than yourself. And more than that, I think about how much I like helping the people I like, and am trying to really realize that maybe they like helping me too, and I should give them that chance.
In the emergency waiting room that night, I turned to my housemate and asked if she remembered singing to me, that time in first year as I’d clutched an uneaten hashbrown. She said that yes, she did. And smiled.
@samwisegodfrey
