14. Urban Work 1987-89

After nearly ten years with MSB, I quit. We had moved to LaRonge for my husband’s work, and I couldn’t find work there. I was on maternity leave when we moved there, and my six months passed quickly with two children under the age of two. Diapers, bottles, and staying at home wasn’t really for me. I did not value ‘being a housewife’, cooking, and cleaning were certainly not my best work.

I’m not sure how we decided, maybe it was me? There was an advertisement for the City of Regina, looking for an Indigenous nurse. I applied and went to Regina for an interview. My husband came along, and he went for a job at the Saskatchewan Indian Federated College. He laughed, because he got his job before I got mine. So, we moved from LaRonge to Regina. That made me happy (happier?). I’m a southern person through and through, and love the flat prairies and grass, and the sky that goes on forever. The north is not my thing. So, LaRonge was in the forest, and that was a bit much for me. And I won’t talk about the bugs… uggg….

Each place that I worked in my career, I learned life lessons. So, Regina was no different. In fact, I likely learned some very hard lessons here. The first was to ask for more than they offer. I went to the City with nearly 10 years experience, and they started me at the base level of pay. I could have asked for a higher level at the time, but I didn’t know it. This was the one and only job that had a uniform. In the winter, the nurses wore navy suits. At one time, they had a contract with a company to make the navy suits, but by my time, we were given money to buy any nave suit of our choice. It was a blazer with either pants or skirts. Any type of blouse could be worn under the blazer. The senior nurses used to wear really fancy blouses, as they weren’t worried about getting dirty. In the summer, we could wear a light blue uniform, like scrubs. I made myself a top and skirt in a light blue out of cotton/broadcloth. (I used to sew during this time, making clothes for myself and my kids.)

The City of Regina had initiated a Native Health Program some years earlier. There was another Indigenous nurse that worked there, Debra Wilde, and she had lasted for a year. Then the position had sat empty for at least a year, or maybe filled with non-Indigenous nurses. The Program consisted of three staff, a nurse and two Community Health Workers (CHWs). When I was hired, the two CHWs were Phyllis Thompson (Carry the Kettle), and Blanche Anderson/Walker/Smith (Fishing Lake/James Smith). They had been there a while.

I had worked with CHRs at the community level, so I was happy with the two CHWs. We were a close team. Blanche was very helpful. She was in her 60s, with grey hair and an Elder attitude. She could go into a house in the city, and scold people, and remind them of how to live better. She could get away with saying things that would have gotten me kicked right out! Blanche turned 65 not long after I started, and she absolutely did not want to retire. But, the city made her, so I didn’t have the chance to work with her very long. She remained active in the community for years after. Blanche was related to my husband, so we made a good bond early on. She was very talented and I still have a pair of beautiful mukluks that she made. She knew how to do beadwork and other traditional skills. Blanche’s son, Howard Walker recently passed away, and he was well-known as a Pow wow announcer and entertainer.

The other CHW, Phyllis, was from Carry the Kettle. She was an easy-going person. We got along well, and would divvy up the cases coming into the office. I think she got an offer from her reserve that summer, and she decided to move home and work there as a CHR.

As a rural farm girl, I knew very little about city life. This position was eye-opener for sure. I got to know about urban living and how poor people lived there. Many were unemployed and some were street workers. Levels of addiction were high, as there was access to alcohol and drugs.

The work in the office was divvied up by districts. The 35 nurses each had a district, with some larger than others. The new staff were usually assigned to the inner city, and then, as they gained seniority, they could switch districts to the more affluent area. So, the most senior nurses worked in the best areas. After leaving, I thought this process was totally wrong. The most senior nurses had the most skills and should have worked in the inner city. They had it completely backwards.

I learned much about city life in this job. Indigenous people lived in very poor conditions. Many of our referrals were for people in the inner city, where poverty was high. There were many slum landlords that rented to Indigenous people, and many lived in poor housing. We used to complain, as we were the lowest paid members of the Health Department, and we got the toughest cases to work on. The other 35 nurses would send us cases, and usually it was the cases that they didn’t want to deal with. Many were ‘multi-problem’ families – I don’t know what they are called today, I’m sure they have a different title now.

One of the stories Phyllis shared with me, was about a street worker that was referred to our group. Phyllis had chased her for a few months, going to old addresses and finding out that she had moved. One day, Phyllis found her at home. Her boy was out walking on the street. Phyllis went up to her house, and knocked on the door. She came to the door wearing a housecoat that was open, and she had on nothing underneath. Phyllis could see a man laying on the couch behind her. I’m not sure what happened to the man, maybe he left. Anyway, Phyllis went in to talk to her about the referral (I don’t recall anymore what the referral was about). She sat on the couch, and said that the couch smelled strongly of urine. We talked about that for a while. How was that man laying on the couch and she was doing whatever street workers do.

For most of my two years there, I was a float. I was not assigned an area, so I just received referrals from all over the city and followed up on them. The Indigenous housing groups were having an impact, as they bought houses all over the city – both Silver Sage Housing for First Nations and Gabriel Housing for Métis. I got to know Regina very well. We were given parking passes for our cars, and we could park anywhere without paying.

I hired Enola Kayseas (Fishing Lake) as CHW after Blanche retired. Enola had been the CHR on her reserve for many years, and I knew her a bit from there. Enola spoke Anishnaabe, and was very cultural. She taught our little team a lot. I asked a lot from her, and she would comply, even when she was really scared. I remember doing an in-service for staff, and I asked Enola to sing a traditional song. She was very nervous and shaking, but she did it! The nursing staff at the Health Department had some really negative attitudes and beliefs about Indigenous people. Oh, I’m being kind. They were a racist bunch! So, we had our work cut out for us. Not just doing our job, but decolonizing the department while we were at it! I can’t recall exactly one of the first statements that someone said, something that Indigenous parents encouraged their kids to have children early in life. I remember being floored the first time I heard it, and explained that children are a gift from the Creator, and loved and cherished, but not that anyone wanted young kids having children.

After Phyllis left, I was able to convince the City to upgrade the position to another nurse. I hired Mona Maria Krumenaker, a Métis nurse living in the city. We all learned together. I never liked the term ‘native’, which is rarely used in Saskatchewan. You hear it more often in Alberta or other provinces. So, I didn’t like our name ‘Native Health Program’. Mona, Enola, and I had many discussions about this, and eventually changed our name to ‘Sunrise Health Program’. We wanted something uplifting and positive. This program continues to this day!

Besides referrals of families, I also conducted immunization clinics in the inner city. They were held in volunteer places, and I recall one being in a church basement. They also had volunteer people, so there was the maintenance guy who opened the doors (which were locked), and a lady or two who would pull files and get them ready for me. We had no appointments, which suited our clientele just fine. The Indigenous prenatal group would help (I forget the official name of this group), reminding their former clients to our clinic and providing rides if needed. They helped to insure that new moms got their babies immunized. So, some days were very busy, and some days not.

When I would visit people in the city, I would ask them where they were from. Many people that I asked were from the surrounding reserves, even some from Gordons. I didn’t know most of them. Some were also from reserves in the southeast of the province. A few owned their own house, but most were transient, moving from one place to another. Some lived in the houses provided by housing groups. Although most would respond that they were from a reserve, many would also tell me that they had never lived there, and were disconnected from their family and their culture.

One family that I did know was from Gordons. I knew of them from the reserve, as they were glue-sniffers. The reserve was not happy with them, and was considering removing the children from their care. When the reserve resources had a plan and was beginning to follow-through; they quickly moved to Yorkton and then Regina (in the six or eight months since I left the reserve). I was invited by the Infant Stimulation group, as the mom had a new baby, and the baby was developmentally delayed. I think the baby was six or eight months old, and still couldn’t sit up. So, the Infant Stimulation worker would go regularly and exercise the baby, trying to get her strengthen the muscles so that she could sit and eventually walk. Social Services was also involved in this family due to the glue sniffing. Every time I would go to their house, the smell of glue was very, very strong. The Social Worker was threatening them, that this was unacceptable. The glue smell would almost make me sick to my stomach! Eventually, the Mobile Crisis Unit did a check on the weekend, and found the baby in the basement. When asked, they said she must have gotten down there by herself (she couldn’t even lift herself, never mind crawl downstairs). The children were removed and given to their grandmother. An interesting aside, when I moved back to the reserve in 1984, the grandmother lived on the reserve down the road from us, and my kids befriended the kids in this family. The one girl was still developmentally delayed, but she could walk, and I think she eventually had kids of her own. My children and those kids had a very different life and upbringing.

Another visit sticks out. I had to do a follow-up and contact tracing with a family where two adults had Hepatitis C. The home was small, with a main floor and a few bedrooms upstairs. An older woman met me, and said that there were 17 people living in this small space, all family or likely extended family. I talked to the two women with Hepatitis C, and they said that they had went to a party in the city. At the party, apparently a ‘rig’ was being passed around, and they thought that they would try it. They weren’t sure who else was at the party, so I couldn’t pass along any names of contacts. I was shocked, although I gave many needles through immunization, I couldn’t fathom sticking one in my own arm. And they seemed to do it very casually, making a spontaneous decision. At this time in Regina, T&Rs were being done – Talwin mixed with Ritalin. Ritalin was a stimulant given to hyperactive kids (Attention Deficit Disorder or Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder), and some ended up on the street. Talwin was a downer, so apparently the T&R combo gave a nice smooth high. My team and I started collecting the names of doctors that people on the street would tell us were easy to get prescriptions from. We handed them over to the Medical Health Officer. The province eventually established a province-wide system to track narcotics, and some of this prescription abuse ended.

One of our best visits was to the Early Learning Centre. This was situated in an old house in the inner city. This Centre had actual teachers, and they would take preschool children to prepare them for school. The staff at this place were amazing, one I recall was Rosaline Lerat. They worked with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder kids, helping them to know their boundaries by giving them samples of carpet that they carried everywhere, and sat in their own space/bubble, with the carpet giving them boundaries. They had vans, so they could pick children up from all areas in the city. They fed the children with food they received from the food bank.

One time, Mona and I decided to do a presentation for the children at the Early Learning Centre. We wanted to talk about nutrition, combined with a cultural approach. We found a traditional story (I think it was Cherokee) about strawberries, being the first fruit of the season. We bought strawberries to give to the children. Mona was very creative and made a small teepee. We each made sock puppets for the people in the story. The story was inappropriate, as it was about a couple not getting along, and eventually the woman threw his moccasins out of the teepee, and the relationship was over! Somewhere in the story was strawberries and that they were the first of the season, so we went with it. The kids enjoyed the story, especially when the moccasins were thrown out of the teepee. But, I was shocked. Many children had never seen a strawberry, never tasted a strawberry. Some even cried, and were scared of a strawberry! I think that I’ve said before, that growing up, I always thought that we were poor, compared to others in our community. But, I was always shocked when I seen poverty up close. And I certainly saw it in Regina.

We were fortunate one summer to be given a summer student from Saskatchewan Indian Federated College/SIFC. Darryl Windigo was assigned to us, and he joined our team. He was very useful, as he had some connections with the inner city people. He explained to us the lifestyle of the street workers and their friends. If they wanted to party, the girls would go to work and earn some money. Then they could buy booze or whatever they wanted, and the party would begin. I was saddened to hear this. Indigenous women have put themselves at risk for centuries, and it continues to today. They put themselves at risk for their families and friends. I don’t know much about today, but I hear people talking about ‘meth’, and the impact it is having, both in the cities and on reserve.

The nurses had a weekly in-service, and one hit home to me. Two men came from Mental Health and were talking about a program they offer for men who are abusive. They handed out the Violence Wheel, and I was able to place myself in many places on the wheel. When we first met, my husband was very abusive and physically abusive, beating me up after he would go on a 3-4 day drunk. After he quit drinking, most of the physical abuse stopped, and I thought we were okay. When I looked at the Wheel, I could relate to the mental abuse (hurtful words, minimizing, name-calling, etc), financial abuse (we struggled with managing our money, even though both of us were working), etc. I joined the Battered Women’s Program though the Family Services Centre, and I talked to my husband about joining the men’s program at Mental Health. I learned a lot about myself in the program and my co-dependent behaviours. I especially appreciated the other women’s stories.

The Senior Nursing Officer (I think that was her title?) that hired me was quite respectful, and gave me quite a bit of leeway in my work. As the position had been empty for a lengthy time, she was appreciative of me. Also, my experience working on reserves, and in community health was a big bonus. I knew how to get things done, and had good ideas. The Sunrise Health Program was slowly growing and progressing.

Sadly, that boss left and a new one came along. She was not friendly with us, and was very rule and policy driven. A few things were going on for me, like addressing my abuse, caring for two little kids, a husband who was erratic, etc. And I had an offer to teach a course at SIFC for 2 months. I put in for 2-months of leave without pay. My boss denied my request, and had the following conversation with me, “you are just a small cog in a big corporation, who do you think you are to ask for this? If I let you do this, all the other nurses will want it. And I can’t have 35 nurses off on leave…”

I went home after this conversation and I was extremely upset. Normally, I’m a pretty calm person. I couldn’t sit still and was pacing in my kitchen, with this conversation playing over and over again in my brain. She didn’t value me one bit! I was just another cog in the big wheel! Wow! Eventually, I called my sister, Jean and she didn’t give me advice, but she asked a question, “What are you doing all of this for?”

Her question stopped me cold. Yes, what was I doing all this for? I had bought a house, and had my dream – white picket fence (well, there was no fence), beautiful house, two cars in the driveway, two children, a husband, and a job where I wasn’t valued. I realized that I was very unhappy, and that my dream was not what I wanted at all. I put my house on the market, a car got repossessed, my husband left me for a few days, and I quit my job! I sat down and wrote out my resignation letter.

I went to work the next day and put my resignation letter on my boss’ desk. She may have said something to me, but I was past listening. The Medical Health Officer called and tried to get me to change my mind. I talked to the Union sometime later, and they told me that I should have sent to them, and that the a leave of absence was certainly in the union contract!

I was on to my new life – teaching at Saskatchewan Indian Federated College (now called First Nations University Canada)!

I learned several lessons at this position. One, that there were 35 other nurses with the same qualifications as I had. So, to be better, to stand out from this group, I needed a Masters degree.

I enrolled in University of Regina for a Masters of Administration. Because my degree was not in business, I had to take the 12 core classes of Administration. So, besides teaching at SIFC, I was also a student taking difficult classes.