As evening settles over Winnipeg’s Health Sciences Centre, Sarah Klassen adjusts her ID badge and pushes through the emergency department doors for another 12-hour shift. The ritual feels different these days—heavier somehow. Last month, a patient in withdrawal grabbed her by the wrist, leaving finger-shaped bruises that lingered for weeks. Three colleagues have taken stress leave since spring. Another transferred to home care after 15 years in emergency medicine.
“We’re all just waiting for the next incident,” Klassen tells me during her break, stirring honey into hospital-issued tea. “The question isn’t if something will happen, it’s when.”
This growing sense of vulnerability among Manitoba’s healthcare workers has intensified following Shared Health’s recent announcement of drop-in information sessions aimed at addressing workplace safety concerns. The sessions, scheduled throughout September, have been positioned by administrators as opportunities for nurses to voice concerns and learn about existing safety protocols.
But the Manitoba Nurses Union isn’t buying it.
“These sessions look remarkably like a public relations exercise rather than meaningful action,” says Darlene Jackson, president of the Manitoba Nurses Union, during our phone conversation. “Our members have been documenting and reporting safety concerns for years. They don’t need another forum to explain what they’ve already explained. They need concrete changes to protect them while they’re trying to care for patients.”
Provincial data obtained through Freedom of Information requests shows reported incidents of violence against healthcare workers have increased by 27% since 2019. Emergency departments and mental health units report the highest numbers, though incidents occur throughout the healthcare system.
At Health Sciences Centre alone, security responded to 1,892 calls related to aggressive behavior last year—nearly double the number from five years ago, according to internal records shared by staff representatives.
When I visited Shared Health’s offices near the Manitoba Legislature, spokesperson Jason Permanand defended the information sessions as part of a “multi-faceted approach” to staff safety.
“These sessions represent just one component of our comprehensive workplace safety strategy,” Permanand explained, gesturing toward a binder of protocols. “We’re committed to creating environments where our healthcare professionals feel secure and supported.”
The strategy includes enhanced security staffing in high-risk areas, personal panic buttons for some staff, and conflict de-escalation training. Yet many nurses describe these measures as insufficient given the scale of the problem.
Lisa Bryson, an ICU nurse with 22 years of experience, invited me to her St. Boniface home to share perspective away from hospital walls. Her living room is bright with family photos and nursing school graduation portraits. A small white scar above her eyebrow serves as a permanent reminder of a workplace assault three years ago.
“The training tells us to watch for warning signs, to position ourselves near exits, to call for help early,” Bryson says. “But when you’re short-staffed, when security is stretched thin, when patients are in crisis and the waiting room is overflowing—all that training meets reality, and reality wins.”
The nurses union has proposed several measures they believe would meaningfully improve safety: mandatory staff-to-patient ratios, 24-hour security presence in all emergency departments, improved environmental design including better lighting and visibility, and consequences for those who assault healthcare workers.
Dr. Michael West, an emergency physician who serves on Manitoba’s Physician Health and Wellness Committee, says the issue extends beyond nursing.
“Healthcare violence affects everyone in the system—physicians, nurses, allied health professionals, support staff,” West explains during our meeting at a cafĂ© near the hospital. “And ultimately, it affects patients too. A traumatized workforce cannot provide optimal care.”
Healthcare violence is not unique to Manitoba. A 2023 Canadian Medical Association Journal study found that 75% of emergency department staff across Canada had experienced physical violence in the past year. However, Manitoba’s rates exceed the national average by approximately 15%, according to Statistics Canada workplace safety data.
Indigenous healthcare workers and patients face additional layers of complexity. Melanie Bearskin, a nurse of Cree heritage who works with both urban and northern communities, emphasizes the importance of culturally informed approaches.
“When we talk about safety, we need to acknowledge historical trauma and how it manifests in healthcare settings,” Bearskin says, as we walk through The Forks market area. “Some patients have deep distrust of institutions based on generations of harmful experiences. Addressing violence means addressing its roots—including poverty, addiction, and systemic racism.”
Shared Health maintains that the drop-in sessions represent just one piece of their safety strategy. Documents provided show the organization has increased security spending by 18% since 2021 and implemented a violence prevention program that includes risk assessments and incident tracking.
For frontline staff like Klassen, however, the gap between administrative responses and daily reality remains vast.
“I became a nurse to help people during their most vulnerable moments,” she says, gathering her things as her break ends. “Now I’m the one feeling vulnerable. We need real solutions, not more conversations about the problem.”
As Manitoba heads into fall, the tension between Shared Health’s approach and the nurses union’s demands shows no signs of resolution. Drop-in sessions will proceed as planned, while the union has announced plans for a “Safe Care” rally outside the Legislature in October.
What remains clear is that for Manitoba’s healthcare workers, safety isn’t an abstract concept to be discussed in committee rooms—it’s an immediate, pressing reality they face each time they report for duty.
And as Sarah Klassen disappears back through the emergency department doors, the question lingers: will tomorrow bring meaningful change, or just another incident report?
