BC's toxic drug crisis: Facts, figures and a video that will break your heart

I'm fresh from MC'ing a great opening event today for Peers Victoria's speaker series on the toxic drug crisis, and wanting to share some facts on the crisis here that I gathered as part of my work helping to organize the series. It really is so critically important that we shake off this paralyzed shock state we seem to be in, and do something. 

But first, watch this video of people lost to the toxic drug crisis. (Thank you to Moms Stop the Harm for the use of families' photos.) It takes 18 minutes to watch all 300 of the beautiful faces here pass by. If we made a video of everyone who has died in BC since a state of emergency was declared in 2016, it would take 16 hours to play. 

And here's a good fact sheet/backgrounder for a hot-button issue like this one, where everybody's going off about this "fact" or that to the point that nobody knows what's actually going on. These are some well-sourced, categorized facts to bring clarity, gathered with care for our series. When people say idiot remarks about the crisis, pull out this fact sheet and set them straight. 

Hope to see you Feb. 26, 3-6 p.m. for the second event in the series, and March 26 2-5 p.m. for the third and final event. More details to come soon on both of those - watch for them here. 

Fact Sheet, January 2025

The situation

·       An emergency over toxic drug deaths was declared in BC in April 2016. Overdose deaths had been slowly on their way up for many years prior to this, but the steep rise from 2016 on would be unprecedented.

·      The primary cause of increased deaths is the growing toxicity and unpredictability of the street supply of opioids, or “down,” the vast majority of which (94.4 per cent) contains the synthetic opioid fentanyl or a fentanyl analog[1]. As noted in 2022 by now-retired BC Chief Coroner Lisa Lapointe, the current drug policy framework of prohibition is the main driver of the illegal, unregulated and toxic street supply.

·         Prior to 2012, BC’s knowledge of illicit drug use in the province was limited to data from Vancouver and Victoria, which accounted for about 15% of BC’s total population at that time. Little data and many gaps in knowledge remain as to the historic impact of illicit drug use in suburban, rural, and northern populations.

A national crisis

• The toxic drug crisis affects people in every province, with 49,145 opioid toxicity deaths occurring in Canada between January 2016 – June 2024
• 84 per cent of those deaths were in BC, Alberta and Ontario

Faces of the crisis

• ·         70 per cent of people dying are ages 30-59, almost three-quarters of them male
• ·         BUT – overdose deaths among females are increasing year over year. The 2024 rate of 21 deaths per 100,000 is 60 per cent higher than in 2020.
• ·         Female death rates in the North and on Vancouver Island are higher than the provincial average - 46 per 100,000 in the North, 26 per 100,000 on the Island
• ·         A 2022 coroner’s review found that 35 per cent of those who died were employed at the time of their death, with over half of them working in the trades, transport or as equipment operators.
• ·         In 2024, 82 per cent of fatal drug poisonings were either from smoking drugs (68 per cent) or snorting them (14 per cent). Injecting accounted for just 12 per cent of overdose deaths.

 

Impact on Indigenous people

• ·         First Nations people die of opioid toxicity deaths at 6.1 times the rate of non-Indigenous people in BC (2023)
• ·         First Nations women die at 11.7 times the rate of non-Indigenous women, and account for 38.9 per cent of First Nations drug deaths. First Nations men die at 4.8 times the rate of non-Indigenous men (2023)
• ·         First Nations people make up 3.4 per cent of the BC population, but 17.8 per cent of its toxic drug deaths
• ·         The COVID pandemic and the toxic drug crisis combined resulted in the average life span of an Indigenous person in BC dropping by six years between 2017-2021

 

Dual crises: Toxic drugs and housing

• ·         Most toxic drug deaths occur in private residences (48 per cent in 2024) or shelters, hotels and other indoor locations (32 per cent).
• ·         People experiencing homelessness account for 12 per cent of toxic drug deaths, even while making up a scant 0.5 per cent of the BC population. Someone living unhoused in BC is 24 times more likely to die of a toxic drug overdose than someone who is housed.

                                                                                                          .

Survivors risk brain injury                

• ·         A BC study that followed 2,433 patients admitted to hospital between 2006 and 2015 found that at least three per cent of those admitted for accidental opioid overdose had also suffered a brain injury due to oxygen deprivation during the overdose.
• ·         Extrapolated across the roughly 21,000 people in a typical year who BC paramedics revive after a fatal poisoning, that means a minimum 640 people a year are incurring a lifelong brain injury due to the toxic drug supply.
• ·         People with a history of overdose were 38 times more likely to have a diagnosed brain injury compared to a random sample of other British Columbians in a BC study from 2015-17.

 

Societal Costs

• ·         Death from toxic drugs is the No. 1 killer in BC for age groups 10-59
• ·         The toxic drug crisis costs Canada $7.1 billion annually – $1.6 billion in BC. Almost three quarters of that cost is due to lost productivity because of the young age of people – average age 44 - at time of death.
• ·         The number of deaths from the toxic drug crisis is so significant that in 2021, it caused a decrease in average lifespan in BC.
• ·         The peak of paramedic-attended overdoses in a single month in BC since the declaration of the 2016 emergency was September 2021, when paramedics were called to almost 2,600 overdoses in a single month.
• ·         But 2023 set the record for worst year to date, with BC paramedics responding to a record-high 42,172 overdose/poisoning incidents that year - a 25 per cent increase over 2022.

 

Health approach favoured, but spending is on enforcement

• ·         Public support in BC for harm reduction strategies has been very high for almost 15 years, with a strong majority support for harm reduction services and the distribution of safer-use equipment.
• ·         This majority support isn’t reflected at the political level, however. While 50 per cent of people in BC favour a public health approach to address substance use issues and just 4 per cent favour police enforcement, 58 per cent ($433 million) of the spending in the Canada Drugs and Substances Strategy goes to enforcement.

 

Grief and suffering

• ·         In 2014, 26 per cent of respondents surveyed at BC harm reduction sites reported witnessing an opioid overdose in the past 6 months. In 2023, 88 per cent had witnessed an overdose in the past 6 months
• ·         In 2018, 19 per cent of drug users surveyed at BC harm reduction facilities had experienced an overdose themselves. In 2023, 50 per cent had.
• ·         Between 30-40 per cent of the 6,000 members of the Ambulance Paramedics of BC have an active mental health claim, many of them related to compassion fatigue and PTSD related to the unregulated drug crisis.

A few facts on fentanyl

• ·         Created in Europe in the late 1950s as a surgical anesthetic, 50 to 100 times stronger than morphine
• ·         Now one of the most popular pharmaceutical opioids in the world
• ·         Whether diverted from legal markets or produced in home labs, it’s popular among drug suppliers because it’s potent in small amounts, odorless, and easier to produce/transport
• ·         Emerged in B.C. drug supply 2009-12. Overdose deaths in BC related to fentanyl increased dramatically at that point.
• ·         By 2016, fentanyl was being found in 42 per cent of toxicology tests following an overdose. In 2023, fentanyl or a fentanyl analog was present in 85 per cent of those tests.
• ·         Fentanyl is often combined with another pharmaceutical, benzodiazepine, to lengthen duration of effects. It has rendered heroin virtually obsolete in B.C.

 

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Sources: BC Coroners report 2022; Health Canada; BC Centre for Disease Control; First Nations Health Authority; Ministry of Mental Health and Addiction; Substance Drug-Checking; Canadian Centre on Substance Use and Addiction; Harm Reduction Journal; BC Emergency Health Services; Population Survey of Canadian Adults, University of Alberta

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[1] Based on drug sample testing

Lessons from the UnitedHealthcare murder: Yes, CEOs, that's blood on your hands

Pixabay: Valentime AI

I was in Philadelphia visiting family last month when UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson was shot dead on a Manhattan street in a carefully planned execution. The instant roar of approval that united an otherwise starkly divided America in the days and weeks that followed has been a notable reminder that people are feeling a little done these days.

Like everyone who has written about Thompson’s murder, I want to stress that in no way do I condone street executions. I’m sorry that he got killed, and that a young man whose own path seemed quite promising felt compelled to take such drastic action.

At the same time, I’m awed by the powerful rage that the shooting brought out in people, and the major conversations it is sparking. (I, too, burn with fury at what the CEO class has gotten away with, though I’d like to think I’d never settle it with a gun.) The killing lit a fire under the issue of health-care claim denials in a way that a thousand of the most heart-breaking tales of life shattered by a claim denied could never do.

When terrible things are happening to ill people with no hope of seeing justice done, how can anyone be surprised when a CEO at one of the most prolific claim-denying companies ends up killed?

It’s no way to settle scores in a civil society. I really hope we don’t start murdering each other. But that’s not to deny the power of Luigi Mangione’s alleged bullets to open up an urgently needed public conversation in the U.S. on the brutal outcomes when people’s health is pitted against ruthless corporate profiteering.

The U.S. health care system is so profit-oriented that the first thing a typical American has to think about when they get sick or injured is how much it’s going to cost them. Polling by Gallup earlier this year found half of U.S. adults reporting it was difficult to afford health care costs.

One in four said they’d skipped or postponed needed health care in the previous 12 months because of the cost. Two-thirds said they went without care to escape the expense.

Until Thompson’s murder woke up the health insurance industry around just much they’re despised, one of United Healthcare’s competitors was busy setting new time limits in three states on how long a person could be under anesthesia before the insurance coverage would run out. (Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield reversed that decision after Thompson’s death.)

A dozen years ago, my partner and I lived in Honduras for the better part of three years. Justice never got done officially in Honduras, which had a four per cent criminal conviction rate.

So it was rough justice in all directions at that time. People got killed in the street and at their homes for all kinds of reasons as citizens and gangs settled up debts, grudges and issues requiring vengence, rightly or wrongly. (But there was always a reason; Hondurans were completely baffled by the random gun violence going on in the US.) 

Honduras came to my mind immediately when I heard the news of Thompson’s death.

What CEOs feared in Honduras in our time there was kidnappings. Every now and then I’d imagine how it must have felt to be a CEO in Honduras, with your kids being driven to school by guys with guns and the constant threat of something scary happening to you or someone you loved. I’m sure it must feel deeply wrong for a person who considers themselves law-abiding to experience that.

But I really hope that the Manhattan killing prompts deep soul-searching among a class of business executives who have divorced themselves from the moral impact of their business decisions. If Thompson’s death impacts such decisions in the future because CEOs start worrying that they might get killed, that would not be a bad outcome.

There’s no arguing that corporations cause the rest of us harm routinely in the course of doing business. Our governments are helpless before them, compromised by their vast economic power and political donations, and not nearly smart enough to catch corporations out on all the ways they’ve figured out to maximize profits.

What does justice look like for people irreparably harmed by corporate actions? Right now, it looks like a CEO killed in cold blood and the lionizing of the young man charged with the murder.

The ongoing rage of the American people after the killing of Thompson has not abated. Expert after expert has weighed in with comments that are prefaced with their abhorrence of the murder, but follow with a big “…but on the other hand…” analysis contextualizing the public’s fury.

In a recent poll surveying 1,000 people in 50 states, a fifth said Thompson’s killer bore only a little or no responsibility at all for his death. Almost 70 per cent put the bulk of responsibility for the killing on the health-care insurance companies that deny claims.

But of course, Thompson wasn’t doing anything illegal when he ran his company hard on health-care claims. His shareholders and his big bosses might have loved him for it.

Yet millions of Americans have died, grown sicker or been bankrupted by the decisions of their health-care insurance providers. One study found that 36 per cent of the Americans surveyed had had at least one claim denied, and most of them had been denied multiple times.

What justice exists in such a system? Most companies would have an appeal process for individuals, but this 2023 ProPublica article says the appeal rate is one per cent. There’s court, but that’s money and time that few have. In truth, Americans have virtually no chance of justice against corporate decision-making around health care, yet their very lives are being ripped apart by the corporate direction being set by men like Thompson.

I could hear the hurt feelings in the voices of the CEOs quoted after Thompson’s death. Most sounded completely taken aback that people could hate them that much. It was as though their gilded life had shielded them from the harsh fact that yes, it WAS their fault that people were being killed, sickened and bankrupted by corporate policies and decisions under their direction.

That’s the takeaway that I hope lingers on in the reverberations that the murder has set off. CEOs need to internalize that when the corporation they run is routinely hurting people in order to create profit, they carry the burden of responsibility. The rule of law breaks down in societies where there is no hope of seeing justice done, and they should know that all eyes are ultimately going to be on them.

In one sense, Thompson was an innocent man that day he got murdered. But in another, he wasn’t. Let that be a cautionary tale to CEOs who still can’t see the connection between their executive actions and the mayhem on the ground.

Hang on - is that a convenient marriage you've got there?

Pixabay image: Snapito Studio

Woe is us if a “marriage of convenience” ever started to define other important matters in a person’s life beyond whether you get to become a Canadian.

Immigration is a hot issue these days, as it’s mostly been since the birth of Canada. But this week’s story about an Afghan woman rejected for permanent residency after Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada deemed her eight-year marriage to be a front to help her get citizenship – well, that’s just a whole other fascinating issue to get thinking about.

What exactly IS the definition of a loving marriage that government turns to in making decisions like this? What signs and tells in our daily relationships might be quietly signalling to government eyes whether there’s love or just mutual benefit underpinning our marriages?

I have heard stories of marriages of convenience, of course, and of the level of subterfuge necessary when the people involved still expect to have completely independent lives apart from each other but need to pretend like they’re a couple.

That’s not the situation in this case, however. We're left to speculate what IRCC saw that didn’t look loving enough when it scrutinized this Ontario couple, but they have been together for eight years and have a seven-year-old child.

Ontario immigration lawyer Binod Rajgandha told the CBC that IRCC considers factors like big age gaps or a “minimal knowledge of the partner’s life” when deciding if a marriage is real or merely convenient.

If IRCC learned while interviewing the couple “that they hardly know each other's background, such as the personal history, the interest or the family details," that could be ruled as a marriage of convenience, says Rajgandha.

Well, then. That certainly disqualifies quite a number of marriages I’m familiar with – lifelong unions where the bride wore white, the groom gave a moving toast to his beloved, and love was in the air. I guess I’d best start working harder at prying personal details out of my partner, just in case somebody shows up at the door one day with notification that we’re being investigated for having the wrong kind of marriage.

No doubt we're all familiar with marriages whose outward appearances suggest they’re likely of the “mutual benefit” kind rather than romantic love. Beautiful young wives of toadish, aging rich men come to mind.

He prizes beauty and she prizes creature comforts. Judge if you will. But who can say if that’s less of a marriage than the one that starts with an exchange of electrified gazes across a crowded room? 

I’ve made the acquaintance of couples in arranged marriages, and I can’t tell the difference between what they’ve got and what my other married friends have.

Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure all my grandparents had marriages of convenience, as did all the generations before them where women’s rights were so restricted that they had no choice but to put maximum value on a man with a job and a good future.

Is that love in the eyes of my Romanian grandmother in her wedding photo as she marries my Chinese grandfather, 10 years older than her and stranded in Moose Jaw without hope of a Chinese wife because of Canadian immigration laws at that time? I don’t think so. With her parents soon off to Alberta and looking to shed daughters, hers was a marriage of convenience if ever there was one.

Was it less of a marriage because of that? My grandparents had nine children, and their children’s children had children, and on it has gone through more than 100 years of good Canadians coming out of that long-ago arrangement. Whatever fuels the wishes of two people to say “I do,” we can only imagine the weird thinking that government must be doing in trying to draw the line between love and convenience.

I get that these are our laws. If you marry a Canadian, you have a better chance of becoming Canadian yourself. Obviously a law like that is motivation for immigrants wanting to stay in the country.

But who’s to say that motive is any less worthy as the foundation for an authentic marriage than any of the other motives that drive us in the hunt for a lifetime partner  – security, escape, regular sex, a better household income, two parents to share childcare, someone to eat dinner with, a travel companion?

If we’re genuinely fearful that Canada is awash in phony marriages because this law is being used as a loophole for immigration, then we can talk about that. Important to keep in mind that this 2017 report says “marriages of convenience” in Canada account for just six per cent of all rejected permanent-resident applications, so it’d be a lot of fuss for almost no gain.

But if immigrants are being judged for entry based on some checklist government has for deciphering whether a marriage is real, I think we’ll want to start there. Tell me, Minister Marc Miller – what is love? I’m pretty sure a federal bureaucracy has no idea.

Lock 'em up: Everything old is new again

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

And just like that, institutionalization is back. 

My head is in a whirl. After untold hours of my early journalism career spent documenting the hard-won battle to banish BC's bad old institutions rife with abuse and civil-liberties violations, the former executive director of the BC Civil Liberties Association is now the premier of the province and pitching involuntary care like it's a fresh new idea whose time has come. 

“This announcement is the beginning of a new phase of our response to the addiction crisis," said Premier David Eby in a statement released yesterday in which government outlined how British Columbians could now be held against their will for mental illness, drug use or brain injury if they are making their communities feel "unsafe."

"We’re going to respond to people struggling like any family member would. We are taking action to get them the care they need to keep them safe, and in doing so, keep our communities safe, too," said Eby. 

If it was possible to believe that a return to institutionalization would actually play out that way, maybe it wouldn't feel so damn sad to have us rolling the clock back 50 years. History tells us otherwise, however. The stories of suffering that journalists all heard in those years leading up to the closure of BC's big institutions were absolute heart-wrenchers.

The whole reason we abandoned institutionalization back in the 1980s is because it's a horrible idea that doesn't work, except as a means to shield "normal" people from realities they'd rather not have to think about. 

Like what happens to people with severe mental illness when they don't get help and support. Or, in this latest incarnation of "secure care" (aka imprisonment), the tremendous damage a product can have on its customers in a market totally controlled by the sellers/manufacturers and abandoned by the regulators.

Instead of trying to fix any of that, it appears we're just going to lock people up again so we don't have to see our policy failures in their shattered faces.

As researcher Gillian Kolla noted in The Tyee last week, B.C. is jumping to institutionalization without even trying to see how things might go if we actually had spaces in voluntary, trauma-informed, evidence-based treatment programs for all the people who are desperate for such services. Research and experiences all over the world - much of it right here in BC - have demonstrated time and again that institutionalization does not make people well, and in fact puts them at risk of even more harm.

Sure, temporary secure care might have a role in helping to manage some aspects of the social crisis unfolding in all of our communities. But it's meant to be a last resort, after all other attempts to help a person have failed. Please don't let anyone tell you that the people we're seeing spilling out onto our streets have had every social intervention provided to them already. That is so very far from the truth.

Our current social crises are in fact a result of decades of social needs gone unmet. We haven't even begun to try hard to help people with mental illness, substance disorders and brain injuries. Virtually all of the services we've got are patchwork, disorganized, uncoordinated, short-term and often unevaluated. BC doesn't even have an overarching social policy.

We have orchestrated a disaster with our indifference - and now we're going to "fix it" by finding new ways to hold people against their will? Not a chance. 

As Kolla also pointed out, BC does have the power right now to hold people against their will under the Mental Health Act. If someone is deemed a danger to themselves or others, they can be held. (And that definition includes threats and anti-social behaviour, as my uncle Joseph McCorkell found out back in the 1990s when he fought his own incarceration in the years before Riverview Psychiatric Hospital was fully phased out.)

How low will be the bar be for this new initiative? No details yet, but I'm going to take a wild guess that people who are impoverished, traumatized, unable to maintain paid work and with a lifetime of struggle and hardship will be the first ones in. Interesting as well that these new secure facilities are mostly going to be sited at prisons, not hospitals. 

To see brain injury thrown into the mix this time out just adds to the wrongness. Someone suffers a serious injury that causes behavioural changes that unravels a life, and our government decides the best course of action is to make it really hard for them to get any help, and then lock them up indefinitely when they inevitably fail to recover. 

As soon as I read that Vancouver story earlier this month about one person getting their hand severed by a stranger with a machete in a mental-health crisis and another person dying, I knew where this was going, especially mere weeks before a provincial election. 

Eby has been hinting at a return to institutionalization since 2022, when he was angling to replace John Horgan. BC Conservative leader John Rustad has made institutionalization part of his party's platform.  I suspect both will get plenty of support from the electorate for their positions, because everyone I know is sickened and fed up with the social disasters unfolding on their city streets. 

But the answer to the tragedies we're seeing in the hearts of our communities is not to lock people up. Where is the announcement of preventive measures to slow the flow of people onto our streets? Where are the services that would catch people early in their crisis? Why are we embracing the harshest "solution" first? 

I wonder if I will live long enough to be throwing out a bitter "I told you so" in 15 or 20 years when we are back to trying to undo the damage of this deeply sad return to institutionalization. People, we are making a mistake. 

So you think you want to be a housesitter...

https://pixabay.com/users/sinousxl-7554155/

People who have been gone from home for a while often say some version of "I can't wait to be back in my own bed" as their time away comes to an end. I haven't had my own bed since December 2011.

My partner and I have been permanent housesitters around Greater Victoria for more than eight years now, and before that, volunteers with Cuso International in Honduras and Nicaragua. We slept in the beds that came with the house rentals in Central America, and have slept in probably 60 or more beds since returning to Vancouver Island in May 2016 and taking up a life of living in other people's houses while they travel.

We had a classic black and white striped mattress with coils you could feel through the padding in our Copan Ruinas time, and then quite a decent and stiff box spring set in Managua, where you need a bed that barely dents when laid on if you're going to survive months of 38 C with nothing but a ceiling fan. 

We logged some crazy mattress hours when travelling in the countryside with our Central American work colleagues, who could sleep with ease in the damndest situations and expected us to do the same when on the road with them. The nights of six people in one small room on homemade bunk beds stand out for me.

Since returning to Victoria, we've pretty much had every variation of bed: some with super-thick mattresses, rock-hard ones, memory foam, one that was too short, adjustable ones that tilted up at head, foot and middle. Some have rolled us inward, while others sent us plummeting to the floor on a sloped edge. We generally get a decent night's sleep no matter what.

We've had a few conversations with people who would like to be permanent housesitters like us. I wouldn't say that an ability to put up with any kind of mattress is the first thing that needs to be considered, but it definitely needs some thought. Are you prepared to spend all your nights on whatever bed is in play? Are you ready to give up that late-holiday yearning for a return to your own bed?

People hearing for the first time that we are permanent housesitters - perhaps more realistically described as houseless drifters who carry their belongings around in reuseable grocery bags and mismatched totes - have one of two reactions. Either their faces light up and they immediately start thinking about how cool it might be to do the same, or they pull back in instant horror. It's as clear as that. 

If you're the type who would lean in excitedly, housesitting as a lifestyle choice has a lot of pros. 

The permanent housesitter lives virtually without household costs, enjoying a wonderfully diverse array of experiences in all kinds of different homes and locations that might otherwise be outside their affordability range. 

They aren't weighed down by stuff, mortgages or tenancy agreements. They never have to worry about managing bad neighbours; they'll never have one for longer than a few months at most. They live in the gaps of other people's lives, which really appeals to me at a philosophical level as another way to minimize my impact on this world. 

The daily reality, of course, does have some bumps that have to be considered. 

For one thing, you're almost certainly going to have a series of dogs to look after, because that's the No. 1 reason people want a housesitter in the first place, based on our experience. We love dogs, so yay to that, but they do require your full attention, especially if you want the homeowner to invite you back.

For another, you're going to live like a packhorse. Cancel out any images in your head of a footloose housesitter arriving at your latest housesit with a breezy backpack and nothing more. This is your LIFE, so you're going to arrive at every door with bags and bags of the craziest stuff. (We never let our hosts see us move in or out.) 

Anything you can't live without, you're going to be carrying around. I think you'd be surprised at just how many things you end up carrying. 

Some examples from our own experience: My keyboard and stacks of music, because I must have  piano time in my life. Our sound bar and Roku box, because you can't be sure whether a person's going to have good TV sound and a Netflix subscription. 

Baking utensils, laptops and electronics, essential spices or cooking oils, a favourite frying pan. All bathroom stuff. (I invite you to open up your bathroom cupboards right now and reflect on how many things that actually is.) My makeup and jewellry. A giant light-up 10x mirror, because who can put their makeup on without one? 

Seasonal clothing and outer wear, while remembering at least a few fancier pieces for when you go out. The perfect collection of five pairs of shoes/boots that cover all needs. Recreational equipment, like our two bikes, a folding kayak, a blow-up boat for the grandkids. Food and baking supplies, including the 20-kg bag of sugar bought impulsively during the Rogers Sugar Crisis of 2023. 

And obviously, it would not be the life for your child-rearing years. That would just be a misery all round.

The housesit that you're moving into may or may not be ready for all the stuff you'll be dragging. We've had housesits where people kindly clear out dresser drawers and space in the closet for our clothes and leave a roomy fridge, and housesits without an inch of space to spare anywhere. You won't know which one you're getting until you move in, so that old Cuso International motto of "flexible and adaptable" that got us through our four-plus years in Central America is still as useful as ever. 

How often will you be moving? So often. Curious people who think they want to give housesitting a try ask me for advice and inevitably note that they'd prefer something long-term. Just let that concept of long-term fly right out of your head if you're thinking about this life. Mostly you're going to be moving every three to four weeks. 

As I write, we're living in a Fairfield housesit that we've been in for four years, but there is a unique and quirky series of reasons for why it has lasted this long, starting with the pandemic. I'm very sure we'll never see the likes of this housesit again. And even though it's been four years, we've still had to live that whole time in complete uncertainty, having to be at least somewhat prepared to move out at any moment.

So maybe you'll be the lucky housesitter who lands the year-long gig in some perfect beachfront home, but I'd strongly counsel against even thinking that's remotely likely. If you aren't prepared to move around a lot, with much loading and unloading of your weird pile of stuff, you'll grow tired of this life very quickly.

One more thing: It's a lot of work to ensure a steady string of housesits, particularly without a Plan B. When we're in full drifter mode, I'm constantly hustling and looking. People aren't going to drop housesits in your lap, so be prepared to devote time to the hunt. 

But if you've read to this point and are still thinking that a housesitting life sounds great, let me tell you, it's got a lot going for it (and not just the absence of household costs, though that is obviously a very significant draw.) If you like staying in motion, keeping things lean, a constant change of scenery and time spent with many, many dogs and the occasional cat, it's all that and more. 

As it turns out, housesitting also lets us spend time in beautiful homes on well-gardened properties that we'd never be enjoying if it weren't for housesitting. We had a full-size pool for one long, hot August stay, and have spent many weeks in Gulf Island homes close to the water. 

We've enjoyed the most gigantic televisions. We've lounged on the nicest of decks and the comfiest of lazyboy chairs. Housesitting brings so much variety into my dog walks and cycling as well, with one new neighbourhood after another to explore.

"It is within the tension that uncertainty brings that creativity is truly born," wrote Daniella Sachs on Medium. If uncertainty and constant change is your jam, this is the life.