LOTTERY TICKETS

I’m not one to buy lottery tickets. In fact, I think I’ve only bought lottery tickets three times in my entire life.

It may be hard to believe for some but back in the early 70’s, the only lottery tickets sold in Canada were for the Irish Sweepstakes. However, the Montreal Olympics in 1976 changed all that. Faced with the likelihood of a huge deficit for hosting the games, the federal government went into the lottery business in April of 1974 with the sale of $10 tickets for a million dollar prize. My grade 10 class actually won $100 with the ticket we shared. We re-invested our earnings in ten more tickets for the next draw and actually won $1,000.

That type of luck seems to be with me again and if good news happens in threes, then today is my day to play the lottery again.

Let me explain.

My news about my tumour last week was the first piece of good fortune. Although I still await my visit to Dr. Goldman next week for his assessment, I am optimistic that my cancer is on the run especially now that radiation is off the table.

My second bit of good news is about our good friend Jack, the retirement home prisoner. A government official from an elder abuse task force paid Jack a surprise visit last week. Although he found Jack in good health, a red flag went up when he noticed Jack’s phone had been disconnected. A call to Jack’s doctor reinforced the investigator’s suspicion that Jack’s cognitive level did not warrant that he be on an Alzheimer’s floor. Jack’s explanation that some friends had been banned from visiting aroused further misgivings and made it easy for the official to take immediate action.

Caregivers at the home have been instructed that they have no jurisdiction when it comes to who Jack can or cannot see. That’s for Jack to decide. Jack’s family has also been put on notice that any further restrictions to his lifestyle will be construed as elder abuse.

Terry and I as well as our friend Ruth and her family are no longer considered persona non grata. Although it is still unclear whether we can take Jack out for a meal or a visit to his old neighbourhood and when he will move off the Alzheimer floor, we are delighted that someone with a bit of clout heard his dead ringer bell.

And so, I’m off to buy a lottery ticket. If I win, I just might build a retirement home that would surely let in more light than Jack’s current residence.