Learning to Deal with Late Night Alarms

We have a lot of alarms at work - no really, a whole freaking lot! We have alarms for the freezers if the temperatures vary too much (wouldn't want to lose all those valuable archived samples!), alarms if the power goes out, alarms for the fish tanks (low water, low oxygen, high chlorine, etc.) and alarms for building security (Stranger Danger!). There are various ways in which we are contacted about such alarms as well, sometimes the alarm company calls the main office phone, sometimes they set off the on-call pagers, or in the case of building security - there is a freaking loud bull horn that squeals "Weee-oooo, weeeee-oooo, weeeeee-oooo!".  Why do we need such a level of security you ask? Well, one reason is to protect our work. Whether that means keeping valuable samples frozen at -80oC or keeping the fish alive by maintaining a good environment in the tanks, it's important. But there is also the fear of Stranger Danger! 

There has always been small, relatively unorganized protesters at our door and this is something that is not expected to change. But since Green Peace decided to visit a few years back to bust windows and kick in doors, there has been added security (as in the addition of the 8ft high fence surrounding the property). And it is not unheard of, even here on the Eastern coast of Canada for "activist groups" (AKA - the dirty hippies) to break into facilities/sea cages to "liberate" the animals.



So the other night I am sound asleep in my bed, which remember is in an apartment attached to the building I work in. I am awoken by a startling noise, "Weee-oooo, weeeee-oooo, weeeeee-oooo!" Falling out of bed in surprise, I think, WTF?! An intruder ALARM?! Like I said, we have a great number of alarms which go off frequently but never have I had to deal with this. I felt a lot like Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone (Yes, I know I just dated myself).


I might also mention that this July has been one of the hottest on record here in PEI and that air conditioning is not common. So the interior of my apartment has been so hot and humid that on occasion, moisture actually runs down the walls! As a result, at the sound of the alarm, I fall out of bed wearing nothing but short shorts and a tiny tank. Since I have not yet had to deal with such a situation, I am not prepared for what comes next. I looked out the window to find that the fence gate was still closed and there were no unidentified cars in the parking lot. I think to myself, "Well, I will need some shoes in case I need to run away from someone and I will need my cell phone in case I need to call for help". So I put on my running shoes, pick up my cell and walk out into the completely pitch black facility. As I call out to see if anyone is present, I cannot hear anything over the sound of the alarm. I made my way to the security panel to turn the alarm off and turn on some lights.

As I walk towards the main door looking for evidence of a break in, I hear noise coming from downstairs where the fish are housed. Jumping to unrealistic conclusions, I automatically assume that Green Peace is here to "liberate" our fish and wonder what my next step should be. I start to head downstairs and someone pops their head in the door nearly scaring the crap out of me! Who is it? Why it's not Green Peace at all, there is no Stranger Danger, instead I find 2 of my colleagues from work. They both had the on-call pagers that night and were paged out for a freezer failure in the archive building. Without thinking, they drove straight to the far end of the property to the archive building, by passing the main facility. When they walked into the building, they set off the alarm and then had to run across the property to the main building to try to turn it off! All the while I am falling out of bed and searching for dirty hippies! Not only was I very surprised to see them, but I am pretty sure that they were surprised (if not feeling a little awkward) about finding me searching the building in running shoes, short shorts, a tank and with some serious bed-head!   

Royal Rumble: Doctor of Philosophy VS Doctor of Naturopathic Medicine

First, let me begin with a bit of background. As you may have realized, I am a skeptic. When I hear the term "Naturopathic Doctor" (ND) I often think of something simialr to the photo seen here on the right. Okay, okay, so I realize that is actually a photo of a drunk dirty hippy (may be sighted protesting outside our building) but for some reason I always equate Naturopaths with Hippies. Now I do recognize that Naturopaths do spend time pursuing post-secondary education to learn their trade and that they are often highly intelligent, successful people. However, the fact that individuals who advertize themselves as NDs are not necessarily graduates of an accredited naturopathic medical school and that the term ND is unprotected and may therefore be used by anyone, regardless of educational level makes me question their credentials.

Naturopathic medicine claims to help improve the body's ability to heal and maintain itself through the use of natural remedies. While I admit that medicinal herbs and nutritionally dense foods included in the diet can aid to improve overall health and that too many of us are heading to our doctor's office for a synthetic drug solution to our problem rather than simply putting down the fork and getting off the couch. I still back evidence-based medical science as the best option for treating serious aliments.

For example, a colleague of mine discussed how a member of her department was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. As a treatment option, this individual decided to start "juicing" all her foods and have 3x a week session where her blood was removed, infused with O2 and then returned to her body. Sorry honey, but science trumps your "natural remedy" in this case. Juice and O2 is not going to cure your cancer - a carefully designed plan under the supervision of your oncologist which likely includes the surgical removal of the tumor and/or chemotherapy & radiation treatments are more apt to be successful in battling the condition. 

I also find it somewhat suspicious that patients of NDs are always "prescribed" supplements/herbals/etc to heal them. Has no one else noticed how convenient it is that your ND also happens to runs a supplements/herbals/etc store where you can

purchase all your of "prescriptions"? Okay, okay, I am getting off topic. (Thanks to the Richard Dawkins Foundation Reason and Science for the little gem to the right) 


 Which brings me to my point! (Please excuse the rant and feel free to call me out on my opinion but simply stated, naturopathic medicine is not really my cup of tea.) Imagine my surprise when I was en route to a party in Charlottetown with a friend and I was advised that a number of the women who were going to be present at this party were NDs. I proceed to crack a joke about how I will have to hide my head in the sand all evening and that I will have to pretend that I work as waitress as to avoid an uncomfortable conversation about my chosen field.

All was going relatively well at this party until I head to the kitchen for a beer. At that time, the friend who invited me runs a pattern and intercepts me! She introduces me to one of the women as follows: "Hey, this is _______, she runs a naturopathic practice downtown. And this is Marcia, she's a scientist who makes "Frankenfish" for the aquaculture industry. You guys will have a lot to talk about!" End scene, she exits the room leaving me standing in front of a woman who is obviously disgusted with me. Let the Royal Rumble begin!

I tried to approach the conversation with caution as I have learned that there appears to be little support for aquaculture among many of the PEI natives. I explained that I am a salmonid geneticist, that my experience is mainly in aquaculture and that I am presently working for an aquaculture research company. What followed from there was a series of questions which to seemed be laced with some hostility.

First, I was asked what kind of research I am involved with. When started explaining the ideas of transgenics .... it just went downhill from there. "Why can't we just fish, why do you insist on farming animals that can be found in the wild?" I was asked. Well, you see, fish is a resource that is becoming rapidly depleted. "Why would you put that garbage in your body anyway? It's full of hormones and food dyes!!" I explained that exogenous hormones are not administered to fish destined for your plate and that the endogenous levels hormones are actually less than what is found in a serving of beef. Additionally, "food dyes" are not used, at least it's not what you think (picture "blue dye #2" as an ingredient listed on a juice container). I explained that Astaxanthin (a carotenoid) is used to add that red color to salmon filets, but that it is primarily produced through the fermentation of astaxanthin-producing microorganisms or via the cultivation of astaxanthin-producing algae. Microorganisms & algae are relatively benign, are they not? 

Then of course came the comments about how aquaculture is evil because it puts pressure on traditional fisheries through fish-meal production (fishing for small fishes like Herring to grind up and add to fish food for salmon). When I replied that the aquaculture industry is moving towards plant-based protein diets, I was asked, "Oh, so you think it's a good idea to take a carnivorous animal from the wild and feed it plants?!!" To which my response was, "How is it much different from what Vegans and Vegetarians do to themselves? How is it morally wrong for humans to eat meat, yet it is also wrong to replace some of the dietary protein in the diet of an agricultural animal with plant-based protein?" The response that I received was, "Well it just IS".

Moving on, the conversation turned to the addition of a single copy of the growth hormone gene to an Atlantic salmon to enhance growth. I was advised that this is also morally wrong. Actually, the quote was, "How dare we humans think that we can just manipulate animals to suit our needs!!" I paused for a second and replied, "Do you eat things like tomatoes, broccoli and milk?" To which the answer was indeed "yes". I continued with, "The source organisms for these products are drastically different from the agricultural varieties seen today. Since the origin of agriculture, both plants and animals have been altered though selective breeding and genetic manipulation to produce the food we now eat. So unless you are going out in the woods and hunting wild deer and picking native grasses, your food has been quote "altered" from its original form." 

"Well," was the response, "I, for one, will never support aquaculture". To which I grinned and replied, "Do you like Atlantic salmon?" The ND replied, "Oh yes, I love salmon. I recommend it to my clients for the nutritional omegas." I asked, "Do you realize that Atlantic salmon is an endangered species and that it is not fished commercially in North America? Did you know that ALL the Atlantic salmon that you have ever eaten has come from an aquaculture farm?" I was then advised that I don't know what I am talking about, that salmon isn't endangered and that I am lying to try and prove an ill-conceived point. 

So what did I learn from this experience? That I need to keep my profession a secret when out in public to avoid these awkward conversations. I also learned that everyone, including myself, have preconceived notions about various topics. While I feel as though I am open minded enough to engage in an informed discussion on a variety of topics (say, naturopathic medicine as an example), others seem to be so close minded and even when confronted with logic and reason they refuse to think critically. Apparently the time spent working towards my PhD was a waste - considering that "I don't know what I am talking about, that salmon isn't endangered and that I am lying to try and prove a point". 

 

The "Open Door" Policy

I think that many central and western Canadians think that when you travel to Eastern Canada, everyone you will meet is really friendly and looks like somewhat this:

Well apparently, that generalization is not too far fetched at least in terms of the friendly demeanor (minus the pipe and hat). Everyone I have met thus far has been very friendly. I have learned that there is a strict open-door policy, at least in the area in which I am currently residing. I have to admit, living in Southern Ontario has decreased my trust in humanity. I am definitely enjoying the freedom that comes with living in an area where people do not lock their doors (actually, I do not even have a key to my apartment!) and where I can leave the dogs outside when I leave and I do not have worry about them disappearing to the hands of thieves.

This was really taken to a new level when someone I didn't know and had never seen before walked up the stairs to my apartment and just opened the door. Didn't knock, didn't loudly pronounce their intentions, just walked right in the door and said, "Oh, so you're living here now are ya?". This individual, sat right down and wanted to have a chat (no doubt wanting to get the gossip on the new folk). The most interesting part was that this seemed normal and I think perhaps I should be prepared for more impromptu visitors.

Living with Labradors

Labrador retrievers are beautiful dogs, lovely companions and sometimes, exceedingly stupid. Let me stress the exceedingly stupid part. As you may know, labs come in 3 colors (yellow, chocolate and black). Bones, a black lab, was the first to join our family. Although he has exhibited some stupid behavior, nothing prepared us for what was to come.

Enter Riker, the chocolate lab. Everyone warned us about getting a chocolate lab and tried to steer us away from that color morph. Color in labs is controlled by 2 genes which do not act independent of each other and are therefore epistatic. I was convinced that these 2 genes could not possibly contribute to all the negative traits which are commonly attributed to chocolate labs. I always believed that chocolate labs were selected by crappy owners based on color alone (because they are indeed pretty) who were not interested in putting the time into training.

Now that I am the owner of a chocolate lab, I may have to eat my words. We used all the same training techniques and tools as we had with Bones. In fact, we thought that after practicing on dog #1 that we should be better prepared for dog #2. But there is a distinct difference in the energy level and attention span between our 2 labs, one which I cannot attribute to age difference alone. Riker just never stops moving. I feel like if he were a child in elementary school, we would be diagnosed with attention deficit disorder. He gets so excited for walks and play time that he pushes himself physically to the point of injury.

Case in point: After work this evening, I put the dogs in the car to drive the 4 km to Fortune Harbor Beach. Riker is still battling a soft tissue injury resulting in lameness from a hyper-extension of the right forelimb. As a result of this injury, the only exercise he is presently allowed is swimming. Both dogs were in the back of my hatchback car as we headed to the beach for a swim. I rolled down the windows as I always do because I know the dogs enjoy the breeze and it is impossible to cool off the car with the AC during such a short drive. As we approached the beach, Riker decides that he cannot wait for my slow ass driving and launches himself out the window. Exceeding stupid, right? I should mention that the window was only half rolled down, it does not go down all the way as a child-safety precaution. Well clearly the designer did not take into account the determination of my 65 lb retriever. Out the window he goes, touches down very roughly and takes off running for the beach. When I caught up with him, I found that he had road rash on his chin from the impact!

Some of my colleagues at work seem a little surprised by the fact that I try to keep the fence closed whenever the dogs are outside. I think that the foolishness exhibited by Riker this evening certainly suggests that if the fence were left open, it would not be long before Riker became a road pancake. Although he infuriates me, I am not ready to part with him just yet.

Living AT WORK!

I got lucky. Just as I was in need of finding a new place to live, the apartment that is attached to the building where I work became available. Interestingly, I now have the shortest commute ever, I just open my door and VOILA! Having an apartment to myself once again does have its advantages, however, as part of the exchange I am required to be on call for fish related emergencies. A fair trade.

Although I have the apartment to myself, I do have to share the property with my coworkers. Today for example, I learned a valuable lesson - NEVER leave the property without your keys. I crossed the road to take the dogs to the beach for a swim after work. The last person who left the building decided to close the gate. This is not unusual as we have a 8 ft high fence around the entire property to keep the dirty hippies out. The gate is left unlocked during the day (unless there is a scheduled protest by the local activists), especially when I am on site. For whatever reason, today my colleague decided to lock the gate when he left.

As I returned to the property after exercising the dogs, not only did I find the gate to be locked but as well, everyone had left for the day. I tried to slide myself under the small gap between the gate and the driveway without any success. Because I couldn't go under, I knew that the only way in was to go OVER! At first, I attempted to climb the gate itself as there is no barbed wire on the top of that section. As soon as I started my ascent, the gate made sounds of protest and did not want to support my body weight. My last option was to go over the fence topped with wire.

Let me remind you the fence is 8 ft tall. I made the climb to the top with relative ease, but once there things became a little dicey. after swinging my right leg over the fence top, I had to straddle the fence as to not sit directly on the jagged wire. I couldn't go anywhere until I readjusted my hand position to swing the left leg over and go down the other side. Try as I might, I could not find a place for my left hand to rest where no barbs were present. Finally, my strength gave out and I came down hard with my left hamstring landing right on the barbs. Frustrated and spewing profanity, I tried to dislodge my leg which was bleeding at this point. The next thing I know, I lose my balance, fall to the interior of the fence and end up getting caught by the pants on the barbs. Picture it - I am now hanging on a chain link fence, 8 ft off the ground by the ass of my pants, bleeding profusely. The only way down was to reach back and tear the material that was caught up right off the ass of my pants which sent me plummeting back to Earth.

It didn't make it any better that the entire time, both my labs were jumping and barking at me from the other side of the fence. I can only imagine what was running through their heads witnessing this shit show!

Challenges with apartment hunting when you don't "know someone who knows someone"

When I first moved to this province, I had to find a place to live without having the benefit of visiting in advance. So my first attempt was in a town called Montague, population ~5000. There are very few apartments for rent in this area and even fewer which do not require a 12 month lease, so I settled for the only one which did not have a lease. This was mistake #1!


When I arrived in Montague after a 20 hour drive, I pulled up to this address on Queen's Extension Road and was so terrified by the neighborhood that I nearly got back in my car to return to Guelph. Those of you who live in Guelph will recognize the name "Willow Road" and will understand the comparison. I soon found out that I had selected an apartment in the "low-income housing" area and that all the people in my building were unemployed alcoholics.

 Not to mention the house across the street comprised of a family of drug dealers. Twice, in the first week I came home from work to find the RCMP parked outside my building dealing with various alcohol and drug related issues. What I discovered inside my building was even more exciting! Uncashed welfare checks, burn spoons and drug paraphernalia littered the uncleaned apartment upon my arrival. Within minutes, I already knew that I had to find somewhere else to live!

After a few weeks, I started to get to know some locals so I was able to search around for some leads on a place to live. It was suggested that I rent a room from "a friend of a friend" so I took the opportunity to leave the Montague's version of Willow Road. I now had a great place to live, with a beautiful view and neighborhood in which I could actually go outside.

There was only one problem with my new accommodations - the landlord/roommate kind of went a little nutty. In one week, I came home to find some cheating going on, which lead to a bit of a domestic followed by some binge drinking which turned into theft. Therefore, once again, I was looking for new accommodations.

The tales of a non-native living on Prince Edward Island

As native New Brunswicker who spent the last 5 years living in Southern Ontario, I have been taught a few interesting lessons since moving to PEI this past February. Regardless of where I live, I seem to have this uncanny knack to be followed by unusual and/or peculiar occurrences. As suggested by some of my Ontario friends, I have decided to start a blog to share some of my experiences of East Coast living.