How The Globe & Mail Caused a Prostitute to Turn Down My Email Address

Yep, the title is for real. But there's a lot of lead-up to the title. As is often the case with stories that I'm telling. Too long to get to the good stuff, and a lot of digressing. Sadly. But all-in-all it's a really good story.

Picture this, Sicily 1929. Or, St. Mike's Hospital in Toronto, Friday October 8th, 2010.

Well, to backtrack further, let's go back to Wednesday night.

Jodi was giving me some grief about the fact that I hadn't planned on what would happen when our daughter was born, as far as work was concerned. The JK/SK team planned on meeting Thursday at lunch, and after school if needed, and I was going to have long-range plans in place and a better sense of what we were going to report on for the first (SK) report cards.

So, I decided instead to work on my Occasional (Supply) Teacher folder.

And it's a good thing I did.

Jodi's waters broke Wednesday at midnight.

I texted my vice-principal, explaining that I had never called in an illness/absence and the system wasn't taking my information, so I couldn't register to do it myself. After going back and forth, and my sincere apologies for inconveniencing him, I was booked off for Thursday and Friday.

Now back to Jodi.

She called our fabulous midwife Jessica, and she told her that if she wasn't in labour, to go back to bed. She may go into labour in the night, and if not, she'd come to see Jodi in the morning.

No labour through the night, so Jessica came and told us that everything seemed fine with the baby, and that we should go for some long walks to possibly trigger labour. The first long walk to La Paloma caused Jodi to tighten up, but not go into labour. The same thing with the second walk.

So, no labout meant a non-stress test with Jessica at St. Mike's Friday morning at 7:45 AM. This was when there was a transfer of care, as it was decided in collaboration with the doctor, Jessica and us, that she would be induced.

So, we were in a delivery room, with Jodi hooked up to a fetal monitor, an IV and Oxytocin/Pitocin, the inducing drug. Labour started, and the surges/contractions were manageable. They then got "hyper", and there wasn't any down-time to relax, so in order to stabilize the situation, Jodi was given an epidural. This calmed down the whole process and it was restarted in essence.

We spent about ten hours with a nursing student (Sarit) who was observing the process, and that was great. She had the chance to learn about midwives and also Jessica showed her a bunch of stuff.

Our doctor, Dr. Robertson, is married to the friend of a dear friend, and he also works in St. Mike's, so he came to visit. The nurses were great, minus the initial visit from the hardcore old-school nurse, who after a stern comment from me and kind words from Jessica outside, came back in and rocked!

With active labour beginning in earnest, again, we had two midwives and a midwifery student, one nurse at all times, Dr. Robertson, her resident, two anaesthetists, a paeditrician and a partridge in a pear tree. GREAT service/experience.

Jodi worked really hard, and with really solid coaching/support from Jessica and I, and fantastic encouragement from Dr. Robertson and Sabrina (the super nurse!), she delivered Norah Inessa Kruger Rice at 11:45 PM on Friday October 8th.

Owing to no beds available, they left us in the delivery room, which was fine for Jodi and Norah, 'cause they were on the bed. The chairs were only so comfortable, so I couldn't sleep. Not to mention that I was pretty damn wired on coffee, sugar, and sugar. Oh, and coffee.

So, I wasn't sleeping.

I decided it might be a good idea to go and get the newspapers from Friday October 8th, 2010, the day my daughter was born.

I got eye and NOW. I got Metro and InToronto. I got the Star and Sun. I walked around for about 15 minutes and found the Post. I could not find the Globe & Mail. Not a chance. It only dawned on me after the fact that the reason why I couldn't find a G&M was because there aren't any boxes. They've changed the format/size and I suspect they've pulled their boxes and will be replacing them with new ones.

So, I said, f**k it. I don't need the Globe. I put the papers in the car and went back to the room. I posted on Facebook that I didn't have the Globe and a friend said that I should get it, lamenting that she didn't do it for her newborn son.

So, I decided I would go north along Yonge Street in search of a place that sells newspapers, that is open 24 hours. I walked up to Yonge/College to a Shoppers Drug Mart.

No Globe.

They suggested trying Hasty Market on Carlton.

No Globe.

I headed east to Church and Carlton.

There are often prostitutes at that corner.

There was only one that night.

And she was being yelled at by a woman who looked to be about 50, and was either drunk, high, medicated, crazy, psychotic or some combination thereof. And not just yelled at, but really being put-down with painfully aggressive language.

Then Crazy Lady slapped the hooker.

Now, I'll be honest and say that you're asking for element of verbal abuse when you're standing on a street corner and it's obvious you're a prostitute. But you don't deserve to slapped, let alone spoken to THAT aggressively. I'll also be honest when I say that I'm the first one to watch a girl-girl fight. That said, the Hooker didn't want anything to do with Crazy Lady.

I was torn.

Walk north along Church in search of the Globe, or do something about it.

She didn't ask to be slapped or threatened. There was no one coming to her aid. I couldn't watch. I knew there was risk involved, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't do something.

I walked across the street and stood between the two women. I didn't say anything, nor did I lift my hands in any way. I just slid side-to-side to be in-between the two women. Here is some of the diatribe that venomously spewed out of Crazy Lady's mouth:

"You're a slut."

(pointing to the guy she was with) "If his granddaughter ends up a whore, I'll kill you."

"You suck c**k for a living."

"It's your fault I was raped."

She then ran around me and right at the hooker. She threw her against a fence, that thankfully was only a glancing blow.

Unfortunately, her purse fell and her Blackberry felt out of the purse.

Crazy Lady picked it up, and I said, "Don't. Don't. Don't."

But she threw it. And did the same thing with the purse.

She continued with the verbal abuse, as the hooker tried to get her boots with the 6" heels off. Obviously, intending to have it out with Crazy Lady.

The whole time, the guy that was with Crazy Lady was saying, "Christine, what are you doing? Christine, stop it."

It was during the second round of verbal abuse with me standing between the two women that I said to Cray Lady, "My daughter was born tonight. Please don't do this." To which she replied, "F**K YOU!", grabbed her male friend's glasses and ran away.

Realizing that it was most likely over, or maybe more like HOPING it was over, I headed north on Church. I found the Globe in Reiter's, along with some yummy chocolate. I asked the guy for a pen and piece of paper. I wrote down my name and email address. I'm not about to give a hooker my cell number, but I wanted her to have something to contact me if she needed/wanted a witness.

I took it back to her. By now there were four hookers at the corner, and the assaulted woman was telling the story. I asked her if she was alright. She replied aggressively that she was fine. I asked again if she was okay, and she calmly and nicely said she was fine. I went to give her my email address/name, when she said, and it tore my heart out,

"I don't need a witness." in a way that said, "I will not be going to the police, even though I was physically and verbally assaulted and threatened, and my property was damaged."

That just killed me.

So, I got my papers, sadly had to make a decision about how I felt about something at a time when I shouldn't have had to, and been told by several people that I can't do things like that.

But I can.

I have to, or I won't be able to look at myself in the mirror.

This all happened shortly after a former student of my school was shot and killed because he couldn't and wouldn't change old habits. If I'm going to ask my daughter to be a change-maker and make a difference in the world then I have to do likewise.

I made a decision.

I made the right decision.

Did I get lucky?

Maybe.

Would I do it again?

Yes.

More people need to make a little bit of change in their lives, and we'll all be better off.