The Fine Line: Public Funding vs. Hospital Foundations in Canada

Canada’s healthcare system is publicly funded, built on the principle that access to essential medical care should not depend on one’s ability to pay. Yet despite this ideal, hospitals across the country increasingly rely on charitable foundations to fill financial gaps; particularly when it comes to acquiring or upgrading capital equipment such as MRI machines, surgical suites, or even hospital beds. This raises an urgent question: where do we draw the line between what taxpayers should fund and what private donations should cover?

Historically, charitable giving and volunteerism have been strong elements of Canadian civic life. From Terry Fox Runs to hospital galas, Canadians have given generously of both time and money. Foundations like those supporting SickKids in Toronto or the Ottawa Hospital routinely raise millions for major equipment and infrastructure projects. This philanthropy has enabled many hospitals to expand their services, acquire cutting-edge technology, and improve patient care. However, relying on private donors to cover essential infrastructure can lead to inequities and accountability challenges.

Public funding should remain the primary source of capital investment for core hospital services. A hospital’s ability to deliver life-saving care should not depend on how wealthy its local community is or how effective its fundraising team happens to be. A well-off urban centre like Vancouver or Toronto may be able to raise tens of millions in months, while smaller or rural hospitals struggle to replace outdated X-ray machines. This creates a two-tiered system by the back door, one that undermines the universality and equity at the heart of Medicare.

Moreover, capital equipment is not a luxury; it is central to a hospital’s mission. When hospitals must wait on campaign goals or donor approvals to purchase a new CT scanner, patients pay the price through longer wait times and reduced diagnostic accuracy. Public infrastructure should be predictable, planned, and guided by population health needs—not marketable donor narratives or foundation marketing strategies.

Local philanthropic families who donate millions often have their names emblazoned across hospital wings or research centres, a modern version of constructing Victorian Follies or erecting statues in the town square. While some see this as genuine civic pride, and a way to give back, others question whether it’s philanthropy or vanity, blurring the line between public good and private legacy.

That said, there is still a legitimate and valuable role for hospital foundations. Philanthropy should enhance care, not substitute for the basics. Foundations can support research initiatives, pilot programs, staff development, and the “extras” that make hospitals more human; like family rooms, healing gardens, or neonatal cuddler programs. They can even accelerate the purchase of capital equipment, but only where government has committed base funding or provided a clear upgrade timeline.

Ultimately, drawing the line is about reinforcing accountability. Governments must be transparent about what the public system will fund and ensure consistent, equitable investment across the country. Hospital foundations should be free to inspire generosity, but not to carry the burden of maintaining essential care. Public healthcare must never become dependent on private generosity. That’s not a donation, it’s a symptom of underfunding.

Sources
• Canadian Institute for Health Information (CIHI). “National Health Expenditure Trends, 2023.” https://www.cihi.ca/en/national-health-expenditure-trends
• Globe and Mail. “Canada’s hospitals increasingly rely on fundraising to cover capital costs.” https://www.theglobeandmail.com/canada/article-hospitals-capital-equipment-fundraising/
• CanadaHelps. “The Giving Report 2024.” https://www.canadahelps.org/en/the-giving-report/

The Hidden Cost of Closing Local Public Health Units

Update
The board of Southeast Public Health (SEPH) has passed a motion asking its CEO to reconsider a plan to shutter eight rural offices and explain what led to that decision. The call comes as officials across eastern Ontario speak out against the proposed closures, which were due to take effect in March. SEPH announced last week that it planned to terminated leases in Almonte, Gananoque, Kemptville, Napanee, Perth, Picton and Trenton. An eighth office in Cloyne which SEPH owns would be sold.

When you’ve lived long enough in a rural place, you develop a sense for which institutions actually bind a community together. Some of them are obvious; the hockey arena, the library, the one café where you run into half the town before nine in the morning. Others do their work quietly. Public health units fall into that latter category. They never announce their importance; they simply keep a community ticking along.

That’s why the proposed closure of the Kemptville public health unit has struck such a deep chord in eastern Ontario. To anyone outside the region, it probably looks like a simple administrative shuffle: move the services to Ottawa or Kingston and carry on. But those who live here know that distance has a way of turning a small inconvenience into a real barrier. Rural health research is clear on that point. Canadian Institute for Health Information (CIHI) notes that rural residents face travel burdens six times higher than people in cities, and that even modest distance cuts down uptake of preventive care. It’s not theory. It’s Thursday morning in North Grenville.

A public health visit is rarely glamorous. Nobody posts a celebratory photo after getting their drinking-water sample tested or updating their child’s vaccination record, but these are the tasks that keep a place running, in the same way tightening a hinge keeps a door from falling off. When the unit is close, as the Kemptville unit is, tucked neatly beside the hospital, parents can stop in between shifts, seniors can get help without arranging a ride, and newcomers can manage the long list of small bureaucratic necessities required to make a life in a new place. When that office moves forty, sixty or maybe eighty kilometres down the road, the entire calculation changes.

People take a full day off work. Children miss school. A family without a reliable car postpones the visit until “next month.” And a problem that could have been handled locally becomes an emergency that costs everyone more: the household, the employer, and the healthcare system itself. That is the part governments always seem to forget: the cost of a rural resident sitting in a car for two hours is not measured in fuel receipts alone. It’s measured in missed wages, lost productivity, and the slow erosion of trust in the very systems meant to safeguard public health.

There is also the quieter economic impact. Studies of rural healthcare closures show a pattern: when services disappear, the ripple effects spread. Local hiring dries up. Families choose to settle elsewhere. Seniors relocate to be closer to care. The community loses a little more gravity, a little more anchoring. Rural towns rarely collapse in dramatic fashion; they thin out one service at a time.

All of this feels especially unnecessary in a place like North Grenville. The region is one of the fastest-growing in eastern Ontario. School enrolment is up. Housing construction is steady. The local hospital is expanding, not shrinking. The public health unit is not some neglected outpost; it’s a well-used, well-located service connected directly to the community’s primary health campus. Closing it now is the policy equivalent of removing the front steps during a house renovation: technically possible, but it makes entering the home far harder for everyone.

Public health is fundamentally about prevention, and prevention only works when it’s woven into daily life. When it’s close, familiar, and easy to reach. Kemptville has all of those conditions already. The proposal to centralize services somewhere down Highway 416 or the 401 misunderstands the landscape entirely. Rural communities don’t need systems pulled farther away. They need them held closer, strengthened, and modernized in place.

The truth is simple: local public health units are part of rural infrastructure. Not decorative. Not optional. They are as important as roads, schools, and clean water. You invest in them because they prevent larger problems; social, economic, and medical from taking root.

And in a growing rural township like North Grenville, the smart money isn’t on withdrawal. It’s on staying put.

Why Canada Needs Scandinavian-Style Healthcare

Canada stands at a crossroads. After decades of underfunding, patchwork reforms, and increasing pressure on provincial systems, it has become clear that tinkering around the edges will not save our healthcare. The discussion is no longer about marginal policy adjustments. It is about fundamental structure, equity, and national priorities.

The emergence of more private clinics across the provinces signals a shift that should alarm anyone who believes healthcare is a public good rather than a marketplace. These clinics, often operating in legal grey areas, effectively allow those with means to bypass wait times. Whenever that happens, the wealthy exit the shared system and the political incentive to invest in the public infrastructure weakens. The logic is simple. When elites can buy their way into faster care, they stop fighting for the kind of universal system that benefits everyone.

If Canada wants the best possible healthcare, the solution is not more private clinics. It is adopting the guiding principles of the Scandinavian model. Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Iceland have built systems where high-quality care is universal, publicly funded, and delivered within a single unified framework. These countries consistently outperform Canada in access, outcomes, preventative care, and equity. Their success is not accidental. It comes from three structural principles that Canada must embrace if it wants to lead the world rather than trail behind it:

  1. A single-tier system with no private escape hatch. Everyone, including the wealthy, participates in the same system, which creates constant political pressure to maintain high quality. You get better healthcare when everyone — especially the most influential — depends on the same hospitals and clinics.
  2. High and stable public investment. Scandinavian countries fund healthcare at levels that match the real needs of their populations. Healthcare workers, equipment, and facilities are not considered costs to minimize but critical infrastructure, as essential as clean water or transportation.
  3. Integrated national planning. Instead of fragmented provincial systems, Scandinavian countries operate with cohesive national strategies. Canada’s provincial patchwork creates duplication, competition for resources, and wildly inconsistent service quality. A national framework would produce unified standards, better resource allocation, and greater accountability.

Canada can choose this path. It can reaffirm that healthcare is a public good, not a commodity. But doing so requires political courage and a public willingness to reject the slow creep of privatization. Allowing a private system to grow alongside the public system is not harmless. It undermines the very foundation of universal care.

If Canada truly wants world-class healthcare, the answer is not creating more private lanes. It is building a system where private lanes are unnecessary because the public system is so strong, so well-funded, and so well-managed that everyone is treated with the same quality and dignity. The Scandinavian model proves that this is both possible and sustainable.

To protect universal healthcare, Canada must follow those lessons. We need a single, high-functioning system that everyone pays into and everyone relies on. Only then will the political will align with the real needs of Canadians. Only then can we build the best healthcare system in the world.


Sources and Studies

  • Canadian Institute for Health Information. “Health Spending in Canada.”
  • OECD Health Statistics. “Health at a Glance” reports.
  • World Health Organization. “Universal Health Coverage: Evidence from Nordic Countries.”
  • European Observatory on Health Systems and Policies. “Nordic Health System Profiles.”
  • Commonwealth Fund. “International Health Policy Survey” annual comparative studies.
  • Government of Canada. “Canada Health Act Annual Report.”
  • University of Toronto Institute of Health Policy. “Public vs Private Delivery: Impacts on Wait Times and Equity.”
  • Fraser Institute critique reports on privatization proposals, for contrast and analysis.
  • Norwegian Ministry of Health. “Organisation of the Norwegian Health Services.”
  • Swedish National Board of Health and Welfare. “Equity and Quality in the Swedish Health System.”
  • Danish Ministry of Health. “Health System Performance and Financing.”

The Grades Don’t Lie: How Social Media Time Erodes Classroom Results

We finally have the kind of hard, population-level evidence that makes talking about social media and school performance less about anecdotes and more about policy. For years the debate lived in headlines, parental horror stories and small, mixed academic papers. Now, large cohort studies, systematic reviews and international surveys point to the same basic pattern: more time on social media and off-task phone use is associated with lower standardized test scores and classroom performance, the effect grows with exposure, and in many datasets girls appear to show stronger negative associations than boys. Those are blunt findings, but blunt facts can still be useful when shaping policy.  

What does the evidence actually say? A recent prospective cohort study that linked children’s screen-time data to provincial standardized test scores found measurable, dose-dependent associations: children who spent more daily time on digital media, including social platforms, tended to score lower on later standardized assessments. The study controlled for a range of background factors, which strengthens the association and makes it plausible that screen exposure is playing a role in educational outcomes. That dose-response pattern, the more exposure, the larger the test-score deficit, is exactly the sort of signal epidemiologists look for when weighing causality.  

Systematic reviews and meta-analyses add weight to the single-study findings. A 2025 systematic review of social-media addiction and academic outcomes pooled global studies and concluded that problematic or excessive social-media use is consistently linked with poorer academic performance. The mechanisms are sensible and familiar: displacement of homework and reading time, impaired sleep and concentration, and increased multitasking during classwork that reduces learning efficiency. Taken together with cohort data, the reviews make a strong case that social media exposure is an educational risk factor worth addressing.  

One of the most important and worrying nuances is sex differences. Multiple recent analyses report that the negative relationship between social-media use and academic achievement tends to be stronger for girls than boys. Some researchers hypothesise why: girls on average report heavier engagement in image- and comparison-based social activities, higher exposure to social-evaluative threat and cyberbullying, and greater sleep disruption linked to late-night social use. Those psychosocial pathways map onto declines in concentration, motivation and ultimately grades. The pattern is not universal, and some studies still show mixed gender effects, but the preponderance of evidence points to meaningful gendered harms that regulators and schools should not ignore.  

We should, however, be precise about what the data do and do not prove. Most observational studies cannot establish definitive causation: kids who are struggling for other reasons may also turn to social media, and content matters—educational uses can help, while passive scrolling harms. Randomised controlled trials at scale are rare and ethically complex. Still, the consistency across different methodologies, the dose-response signals and plausible mediating mechanisms (sleep, displacement, attention fragmentation) do make a causal interpretation credible enough to act on. In public health terms, the evidence has passed the “good enough to justify precaution” threshold.  

How should this evidence reshape policy? First, age limits and minimum-age enforcement, like Australia’s move to restrict under-16 access, are a sensible piece of a larger strategy. Restricting easy, early access reduces cumulative exposure during critical developmental years and buys time for children to build digital literacy. Second, school policies matter but are insufficient if they stop at the classroom door. The best interventions couple school rules with family guidance, sleep-friendly device practices and regulations that reduce product-level persuasive design aimed at minors. Third, we must pay attention to gender. Interventions should include supports that address comparison culture and online harassment, which disproportionately harm girls’ wellbeing and school engagement.  

There will be pushback. Tech firms and some researchers rightly point to the mixed evidence on benefits, the potential for overreach, and the social costs of exclusion. But responsible policy doesn’t demand perfect proof before action. We now have robust, repeated findings that increased social-media exposure correlates with lower academic performance, shows a dose-response pattern, and often hits girls harder. That combination is a call to build rules, tools and educational systems that reduce harm while preserving the genuinely useful parts of digital life. In plain language: if we care about learning, we must treat social media as an educational determinant and act accordingly.

Sources:
• Li X et al., “Screen Time and Standardized Academic Achievement,” JAMA Network Open, 2025.
• Salari N et al., systematic review on social media addiction and academic performance, PMC/2025.
• OECD, “How’s Life for Children in the Digital Age?” 2025 report.
• Hales GE, “Rethinking screen time and academic achievement,” 2025 analysis (gender differences highlighted).
• University of Birmingham/Lancet regional reporting on phone bans and school outcomes, Feb 2025.  

The NRE Rule: Why Nothing You Say Should Count within the First 180 Days

I first shared a version of this article on Fetlife, where it sparked some discussion. My aim here is to focus on the experience of being in the NRE zone, rather than on the potential fallout that can sometimes occur around it. That said, I do include a few considerations you might find worth reflecting on. Enjoy!

Polyamory veterans know a universal truth: New Relationship Energy (NRE) makes people completely, gloriously bonkers. And not in a “quirky fun” way – in a “you just cancelled dinner with your long‑term partner because your new crush sent you a TikTok of a honey badger” kind of way.

For the uninitiated, NRE is that fizzy cocktail of dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin your brain starts shaking up the moment you meet someone new who lights up your nervous system. Think champagne meets espresso meets a sugar rush. You’re drunk on possibility, jittery with lust, and convinced you’ve found The One (or The One Plus the Others You Already Love).

Your friends nod knowingly while making silent bets on how long before you resurface. Your partners smile politely while you quietly move your toothbrush back to your bathroom. And you? You’re busy imagining joint vacations, co‑buying an air fryer, and wondering whether it’s “too soon” to introduce them to your entire extended family. (Spoiler: yes, it is.)

The NRE Rule

My personal safeguard – forged in the fires of experience – is what I call The NRE Rule:

For the first 180 days, whatever you say to each other is lovely – even magical – but it doesn’t count for shit.
Come day 181, you’d better know what you’re saying and committing to… or else.

Why 180 days? Because science says that’s about how long it takes for the champagne bubbles of NRE to start going flat. The hormonal flood subsides, reality wanders back in wearing sweatpants, and suddenly you’re seeing this person in normal lighting – not just by candlelight or after three Negronis.

Neuroscience tells us that in those first months, your brain is actively conspiring to make you overlook flaws. Evolution likes this trick – it’s great for mating – but terrible for deciding who you should let rearrange your furniture.

Why It Works

The NRE Rule is not about being cynical. It’s about enjoying the high without buying real estate while you’re still tipsy. It:

  • Protects your long‑term loves from your NRE‑drunk time‑management disasters.
  • Keeps your new connection fun without attaching premature permanence.
  • Gives relationships breathing space to prove they work in ordinary, boring, real‑life conditions.

So by all means, whisper “forever” under the covers, build blanket forts, and make each other playlists. Just don’t sign a mortgage, merge your Netflix accounts, or promise to raise alpacas together until you’ve passed the 180‑day checkpoint.

Because here’s the thing: Day 181 is when the fun talk turns into real talk. That’s when “I’ll always be there for you” starts meaning right now, in this actual moment, with all our messy schedules and emotional baggage. It’s when the NRE sparkle gives way to the glow of real compatibility — or the thud of “oh… so that’s who you are.”

Until then? Enjoy the sugar rush. Just remember: before 180 days, you’re spending Monopoly money. After that? The bank account opens for real.

And I don’t care how cute they are – no one gets the air fryer until they’ve made it to Day 181.

Parking Fees in Eastern Ontario Hospitals Are a Hidden Tax on Patients

Eastern Ontario has always prided itself on community and care. From the small-town generosity of Kemptville and Almonte to the bustling networks of support in Ottawa, people here know what it means to stand by one another in times of crisis. Yet a troubling trend is quietly eroding that sense of fairness: hospital parking fees.

In the past year, residents across our region have seen new charges introduced at hospitals once known for their accessibility. Kemptville District Hospitalbrought in a “Scan to Pay” system in July 2024, charging a flat $6 per day. This month, Almonte General Hospital, long a point of pride for offering free parking, is rolling out a gated system at $5 per day. In Ottawa, families face even steeper costs: the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario charges up to $15.60 per day, while Montfort Hospital’s daily rates range from $15 to $19, depending on in-and-out access.

For anyone who has supported a loved one through serious illness, these numbers tell a painful story. A cancer patient attending daily treatments in Ottawa could easily spend hundreds of dollars a month just to park. Families visiting sick children at CHEO or aging parents at Montfort are forced into impossible choices: pay the fee, or cut back elsewhere on essentials like groceries, fuel, or rent.

Defenders of these charges argue they are needed to cover parking lot maintenance or to discourage casual use of hospital spaces. But such reasoning sidesteps the ethical reality. The cost of public infrastructure should be borne by the public collectively, through fair taxation—not downloaded onto patients and families at their most vulnerable. To frame fees as a deterrent is worse: it implies that comforting a dying parent or spending time with a hospitalized child is somehow frivolous.

These fees are also inherently regressive. A single parent in Almonte living on Ontario Works pays the same $5 daily rate as a professional with six-figure earnings. But for the former, it may mean skipping meals or delaying bill payments. That is not just inconvenient, it is structurally unjust.

Eastern Ontario families know that healing rarely happens in isolation. Hospital visits often involve not just the patient but an entire network of care: parents, children, siblings, and friends. Parking fees act as barriers to this essential support system. They isolate patients, deepen stress, and send the message that community presence is only for those who can afford it.

Across the region, people are noticing. In Almonte, the introduction of paid parking has sparked conversations about fairness. In Kemptville, residents question why a community-driven hospital is now charging a flat rate for access. In Ottawa, families with children in long-term care quietly count the mounting costs. This is not just an inconvenience, it is a creeping inequity that undermines the very ethos of universal health care.

Eastern Ontario should lead by example. Scotland and Wales have already abolished hospital parking fees, recognizing them as barriers inconsistent with the values of public health care. We can do the same here. Local hospital boards and provincial leaders should treat these charges not as a revenue stream, but as a moral question: do we want to tax people for being sick and for supporting those they love?

Hospital parking fees in Eastern Ontario are not minor nuisances. They are hidden taxes that punish patients and families precisely when compassion should be our guiding principle. If we truly believe in fairness and universality, these fees must go.

Sources
• Kemptville District Hospital. “KDH Announces a New Barrier-Free Parking System.” July 2024.
• Mississippi Mills. “Almonte General Hospital to Implement Paid Parking.” August 2025.
• CHEO. “Parking Information.” April 2025.
• Montfort Hospital. Parking Information. 2025.
• Canadian Medical Association. “Parking Fees at Health Care Facilities.” CMA Policy, 2016.
• Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives. “User Fees: A Threat to Public Services and Equity.” CCPA Report, 2014.

Publicly Funded, Religiously Filtered Health Care? It’s Time Ontario Let Go

Imagine a sexual assault survivor rushing to the nearest emergency department, only to learn the hospital refuses to provide emergency contraception on religious grounds. Instead of treatment, she’s given a referral or sent elsewhere. Every passing hour erodes the medicine’s effectiveness. That’s not theoretical. That’s happening in Ontario today, at taxpayer-funded Catholic hospitals.

Ontarians pay taxes to fund health care. When the province funds a hospital, that hospital should deliver the “standard of care”, not a version filtered through religious doctrine. Yet, Catholic hospitals, because of conscience protections enshrined by the Charter and history, often refuse to provide emergency contraception or abortion directly. They may offer referrals, but not timely, on-site treatment.

Let’s be clear: no individual clinician’s conscience should be dismissed. Personal conscience protections are vital, and should remain, but institutions are not persons. Catholic hospitals choose to operate within the public health system, serving a broad and diverse population. When they choose public funding, they must also choose to meet public expectations: evidence-based, timely care.

A survivor’s access to medical care must not hinge on the hospital’s religious affiliation. Ontario’s policy is explicit: survivors deserve immediate access to emergency contraception and trauma-informed care. Yet religious exemptions turn policy into patchwork, a postcode lottery in survival care.

This isn’t about dismantling Catholic health care providers. It’s about accountability. The province can maintain agreements with religious institutions, but with conditions. Hospital funding contracts must mandate on-site delivery of all provincially endorsed, time-sensitive reproductive health services. If a facility cannot reconcile that with its religious identity, it should opt out of the public system and operate privately.

Ontario must uphold the principle that public funding buys uniform, high-quality, evidence-based health care for every resident. No one’s care should be delayed or denied because of a logo on a door. Ontarians, especially survivors of trauma, deserve more than patchwork conformity. They deserve consistency, dignity, and timely treatment.

It’s time to close the conscience loophole.

The Appendix Reconsidered: What We Thought Was Useless May Be Vital

For generations, the appendix was treated as a biological afterthought: a relic of evolution with no modern function, only remembered when it flared up in a bout of appendicitis. Like many others, I had mine removed in my early twenties. The procedure was quick and uncontroversial. At the time, we all thought that little wormlike organ at the junction of the small and large intestines served no purpose beyond creating emergency room drama.

But in the last two decades, and especially over the past five years, scientific understanding has undergone a dramatic shift. Far from being vestigial, the appendix is now recognized as playing an important role in immune education, microbiome regulation, and potentially even the gut-brain axis. This rethinking has serious implications for those of us who’ve had our appendices removed, and it’s informing how the next generation of clinicians approaches appendicitis.

The Microbial Safe House
Perhaps the most robust finding is that the appendix acts as a reservoir for beneficial gut bacteria, especially during and after intestinal illness. It contains dense biofilms that host species like LactobacillusBifidobacterium, and Faecalibacterium, which are central to digestion, immunity, and even mental health.

A 2023 study published in Microorganisms found that individuals without an appendix had significantly reduced microbial diversity in the colon, especially after disruptions such as antibiotic use or gastrointestinal infections. Recovery of key beneficial strains was markedly slower. The conclusion? The appendix serves as a sort of microbial “Noah’s Ark,” helping to reseed the gut in times of stress.

A Teaching Ground for the Immune System
Immunologically, the appendix functions as a training ground for B and T cells, especially in children and adolescents. The tissue is rich in lymphoid follicles, producing IgA antibodies and shaping immune tolerance, key mechanisms that help the body distinguish between friend and foe in the gut environment.

In the framework of gut-associated lymphoid tissue (GALT), the appendix plays a role in shaping long-term immune health. Its removal may not lead to immediate issues, but over decades, this could alter inflammatory responses, vulnerability to autoimmune disorders, and gut permeability, factors now being linked to everything from Crohn’s disease to Parkinson’s.

Rethinking the Evolutionary Narrative
One of the most compelling shifts has come from evolutionary biology. Comparative anatomical research across 533 mammal species found that the appendix has evolved independently at least 30 times, a sign of adaptive usefulness, not redundancy.

This repeated emergence suggests that the appendix confers a survival advantage, likely tied to immune function and gut flora stability. That explains its persistence in primates and even some herbivorous animals with complex digestive demands.

Health Consequences of Losing the Appendix
This evolving view has naturally sparked renewed attention to what happens when the appendix is removed. While appendectomy remains a life-saving necessity in acute appendicitis, the long-term consequences are more nuanced than once thought.

Health ImpactPost-Appendectomy Risk/Outcome
Ulcerative Colitis (UC)Slightly lower risk observed—some protective benefit hypothesized.
Crohn’s Disease (CD)Higher risk in some populations, especially when surgery occurs without prior appendicitis.
C. difficile Recurrence2–2.5× higher recurrence in patients without an appendix.
Microbiome RecoverySlower and less robust in patients post-surgery.

For example, a 2023 analysis in Journal of Personalized Medicine tracked tens of thousands of appendectomy patients and found elevated risks of Crohn’s disease within the first 3–5 years after surgery, particularly in younger adults whose appendix was removed for non-inflammatory reasons.

The Gut-Brain Axis and Emerging Hypotheses
We’re now in the early days of understanding the appendix’s role in the gut-brain axis, the biochemical signaling network connecting the enteric and central nervous systems. Microbial metabolites such as short-chain fatty acids, dopamine, serotonin, and GABA, all partially modulated by gut flora, are being studied for their effects on depression, anxiety, and neurodegeneration.

Some early investigations even link appendectomy with Parkinson’s disease onset, although evidence is still preliminary. Nonetheless, the conceptual framework is gaining traction: by eliminating a stabilizing structure for the microbiome, appendectomy may subtly alter systemic inflammation and neurochemical signaling.

An Increase in Rare Appendix Cancers
There is one surprising wrinkle in recent data: appendix cancer rates are rising, especially in younger adults. According to Health.com and Axios, diagnoses have tripled for Generation X and quadrupled for millennials since the early 2000s. While still rare (about 1–2 per million), the uptick is enough to concern oncologists.

Whether this rise is linked to better detection, environmental exposure, or changes in gut health remains unknown. But it’s another reason the once-dismissed appendix is back under the microscope, this time, literally.

New Therapeutic Paths: Do We Have to Remove It?
Perhaps most exciting is the development of non-surgical treatments for uncomplicated appendicitis. In China, a technique called Endoscopic Retrograde Appendicitis Therapy (ERAT) uses a colonoscope to drain and treat the inflamed appendix without removing it. Early results are promising and could offer a new model: one that resolves the acute episode but retains the long-term functionality of the organ.

Western clinical trials are beginning to explore similar conservative strategies, aligning with the broader trend in medicine: when in doubt, preserve structure.

Final Reflections
We now recognize that the appendix is a small, but vital contributor to long-term health. Its microbiological and immunological functions support resilience across the lifespan, and its loss, while often necessary, comes with subtler trade-offs than we once believed.

For those of us living without one, the implications are not cause for panic, but for mindfulness. Supporting gut health through diverse fiber intake, probiotics, and reduced antibiotic overuse can help compensate for what the appendix once did invisibly.

And for clinicians, this shift means asking new questions about when, and whether, to remove the appendix in borderline cases. Medicine’s job is not only to treat but to understand. And in the case of the appendix, understanding has taken a very long time, but it’s finally catching up.

Sources:
Microbiome recovery after appendectomy – PubMed, 2024
Evolutionary analysis of appendix function – J. of Evolutionary Biology, 2022
Appendectomy and IBD risk – Journal of Personalized Medicine, 2023
Appendix immune role – The Scientist, 2024
C. diff recurrence study – MDPI, 2023
Appendix cancer in young adults – Health.com, 2025
Non-surgical ERAT approach – Clinical discussions, 2025
Appendix and infection resistance – Axios, 2024

Maplewashing: The Hidden Deception in Canadian Grocery Aisles

Maple leaves on packaging, “Product of Canada” claims, and patriotic hues of red and white, these symbols of national pride are meant to instill trust and confidence in Canadian consumers. Yet behind some of these labels lies a troubling trend: the misrepresentation of imported food as domestically produced. Known colloquially as “maplewashing,” this practice is drawing increased scrutiny as Canadians seek greater transparency, and authenticity in their grocery choices.

At its core, maplewashing is a form of food fraud. Products sourced from the United States or other countries are being marketed with suggestive imagery or ambiguous labeling that implies Canadian origin. In some cases, food items imported in bulk are processed or repackaged in Canada, allowing companies to legally label them as “Made in Canada” or “Product of Canada” under current regulatory loopholes. This manipulation undermines consumer confidence and disadvantages local producers who adhere strictly to Canadian sourcing standards.

The Canadian Food Inspection Agency (CFIA) defines food fraud as any deliberate misrepresentation of food products, including their origin, ingredients, or processing methods. While the CFIA has made progress in addressing such issues, the agency still faces challenges in policing the retail landscape. Consumers have reported examples of apples from Washington state sold under Canadian branding, and frozen vegetables with packaging that evokes Canadian farms but are sourced entirely from overseas. These practices erode the integrity of the food system and compromise informed consumer choice.

In response to growing concern, some major retailers have attempted corrective measures. Loblaw Companies Ltd., for instance, has piloted initiatives to label tariff-affected American products with a “T” to signal their origin. Other grocers have begun offering clearer signage or dedicated sections for verified Canadian goods. Despite these efforts, enforcement remains patchy, and misleading labels continue to circulate freely on supermarket shelves.

Digital tools have emerged as allies in the fight against maplewashing. Smartphone apps now allow consumers to scan barcodes and trace the country of origin of a product, giving them the ability to verify claims independently. These apps, combined with mounting consumer pressure, are gradually raising the bar for accountability in food labeling.

Still, the systemic nature of the problem requires more than consumer vigilance. Regulatory reform is essential. Advocacy groups have called on the federal government to tighten definitions for what qualifies as “Product of Canada.” Under current guidelines, a product can be labeled as such if 98% of its total direct costs of production are incurred in Canada. Critics argue that this threshold allows too much flexibility for products with foreign origins to slip through.

Maplewashing is not merely a matter of misplaced labels. It is a breach of trust between food producers, retailers, and the Canadian public. As more shoppers demand transparency and local accountability, there is an opportunity to rebuild confidence through clearer standards, stronger enforcement, and a renewed commitment to honest labeling. Food should tell the truth about where it comes from, and no amount of patriotic packaging should be allowed to obscure that.

Sources:
Canadian Food Inspection Agency – Food Fraud
New York Post – Canadian shoppers frustrated at confusing US food labels
Business Insider – Canadian stores labeling American imports to warn consumers
Barron’s – Canadian boycott of American goods

Transparency on Tap: Why All Canadian Cider Should List Sugar Content

Back in December 2024, I wrote about the need for Ontario Cider to be labeled with its sugar content, and now with removal of interprovincial trade barriers there is a more urgent requirement for this change to be implemented nationwide.

As Canada steadily dismantles its long-standing patchwork of interprovincial trade barriers, from wine to eggs to trucking regulations, we must also address the smaller, subtler obstacles to open commerce and informed consumer choice. One such barrier, hidden in plain sight, is the inconsistent requirement for sugar labelling in Canadian craft cider.

Currently, cider producers are not required to list residual sugar content on their bottles or cans: not in Ontario, not in Quebec, not in B.C., or anywhere else in Canada. This lack of transparency undermines both public health goals and consumer trust. It also creates an uneven playing field for craft producers committed to lower-sugar products who must compete in a marketplace where consumers are left guessing.

Sugar Content: A Consumer Right
Residual sugar in cider can vary wildly, from dry, brut-style ciders with under 5 g/L to sweet dessert ciders with over 60 g/L. Yet without disclosure, consumers are flying blind. For diabetics, keto adherents, or simply those who want to monitor their sugar intake, this is more than a minor inconvenience, it’s a barrier to safe and informed consumption.

By contrast, wine labels often include sweetness descriptors like “dry” or “off-dry,” and many producers voluntarily publish grams per litre. Even big-brand soda discloses exact sugar content, so why are fermented apple products exempt?

A Barrier to Fair Trade
The newly energized national push to eliminate interprovincial trade barriers, backed by premiers and the federal government alike, is about more than just moving goods freely. It’s about creating a common regulatory language so producers in Nova Scotia can sell into Alberta without retooling their labels or marketing. If one province (say, Ontario) were to mandate sugar content on cider labels and others did not, that becomes a de facto barrier.

If Health Canada or the Canadian Food Inspection Agency mandated a national requirement for sugar content in grams per litre on all cider products, we’d level the playing field and remove an ambiguity that hinders cross-provincial commerce. More importantly, we’d be empowering Canadian consumers to make more informed decisions in a market that’s become increasingly diverse, from bone-dry craft ciders to syrupy-sweet fruit blends.

The Health Argument Is National Too
According to Statistics Canada, the average Canadian consumes about 89 grams of sugar per day, well above the World Health Organization’s recommended maximum of 50 grams. Alcoholic beverages, especially “alcopops” and flavoured ciders, are a hidden contributor. The federal government has already moved to require nutrition labels on prepackaged foods and some alcohol categories; cider should be next.

A Simple, Feasible Fix
Requiring sugar content on cider labels is not technically difficult. The metric, grams per litre, is already measured during fermentation and used internally by cideries to define style and taste profile. A national labelling requirement would cost little to implement and make a meaningful difference to consumers.

One Label, One Standard
As Canada moves toward true internal free trade, let’s make sure consumer transparency travels alongside it. Listing sugar content on cider labels isn’t just good policy for public health, it’s a smart, simple step toward harmonizing our food and drink economy. When it comes to cider, it’s time Canadians knew exactly what they’re drinking, no matter where it’s made.

On a personal note, my interest goes beyond the health issue, it’s that I much prefer ciders with less than 5 g/L and that currently just because a can or bottle says “Dry” doesn’t mean the cider is actually dry.