The call came at 3:40 a.m. On the other end of the line, a mother’s voice trembled as she described her six-year-old’s rapidly rising fever and labored breathing. As I scribbled notes in the dim light of my hotel room in Tumbler Ridge, her words crystallized the situation unfolding in this remote northeastern B.C. community.
“I drove to Chetwynd,” she told me, describing the 100-kilometer journey through mountain roads in darkness. “What choice did I have? Our health center was closed.”
This family’s middle-of-the-night odyssey represents the new reality for Tumbler Ridge residents following Northern Health’s decision to reduce emergency on-call hours at the local health center. The facility now operates with emergency services only between 8 a.m. and 8 p.m., leaving a 12-hour gap where residents must travel to neighboring communities for urgent care.
Mayor Darryl Krakowka didn’t mince words when we spoke on the community center steps yesterday afternoon. “This decision puts lives at risk,” he said, snow-capped mountains visible behind him. “When someone faces a medical emergency at 3 a.m., asking them to drive over an hour on remote highways isn’t just inconvenient—it could be deadly.”
The reduction, implemented last month with little community consultation according to Krakowka, comes amid staffing challenges that have plagued rural healthcare facilities across British Columbia. Provincial data from the Ministry of Health shows that northern communities face physician vacancy rates approaching 30 percent, significantly higher than urban centers.
“We understand the staffing challenges,” Krakowka acknowledged, his breath visible in the cool mountain air. “But temporary closures have become semi-permanent reductions. At what point does Northern Health admit this is the new normal?”
Walking Tumbler Ridge’s quiet streets, where coal mining once promised prosperity, I spoke with residents navigating this new healthcare landscape. At the local coffee shop, conversation inevitably turned to healthcare concerns.
“My husband has a heart condition,” said Eleanor Fowler, 72, stirring her tea. “Every night when I go to bed, I wonder what I’d do if something happened after hours. At our age, that’s not how you want to live.”
The BC Rural Health Network has documented similar service reductions across the province’s interior and northern regions. Their recent report, “The State of Rural Healthcare in British Columbia,” indicates that 26 rural communities experienced emergency department closures or reductions in the past year.
Dr. Margaret Thompson, a former physician at the Tumbler Ridge Health Centre who now practices in Prince George, explained the cascading effects of these service reductions.
“When one facility reduces hours, it creates pressure on neighboring communities,” she said during our phone conversation. “Chetwynd and Dawson Creek are absorbing Tumbler Ridge patients, potentially creating longer wait times for their own residents.”
Northern Health spokesperson James Rudolph defended the decision as necessary given current staffing levels. “We’re actively recruiting additional providers and hope to restore full services when staffing permits,” he stated in an email response to my questions.
But recruitment efforts face significant headwinds. Research from the Canadian Medical Association shows rural communities struggle to attract healthcare workers due to professional isolation, limited resources, and lifestyle factors. The pandemic has only exacerbated these challenges, with healthcare worker burnout contributing to departures from the profession.
For communities like Tumbler Ridge, which weathered economic challenges when mines closed in the early 2000s, healthcare access represents more than convenience—it’s essential infrastructure for community survival.
Stacey Lavoie, who runs a small tourism business showcasing the area’s dinosaur trackways, fears the ripple effects on the town’s recovery efforts. “How do we attract families or retirees if basic healthcare isn’t reliable?” she asked as we walked along a fossilized footprint trail. “And how do we keep the people already here?”
The Ministry of Health’s Rural, Remote, First Nations and Indigenous Health framework, updated last year, promises “equitable access to healthcare services” for all British Columbians. Yet communities like Tumbler Ridge suggest the gap between policy and reality remains substantial.
Mayor Krakowka and the town council have requested an urgent meeting with provincial health officials. They’ve also launched a petition that has gathered over 800 signatures—significant in a community of just 2,700.
“We’re not asking for sophisticated specialty care,” Krakowka emphasized. “We just want basic emergency services available when people need them.”
As evening settled over Tumbler Ridge during my last night in town, I watched the health centre lights dim at 8 p.m. sharp. The parking lot emptied except for a few staff vehicles. The building would remain staffed overnight for inpatients, but emergency services were now officially closed until morning.
In the stillness, I thought about the mother who made that predawn drive with her sick child, and wondered how many others would face similar journeys before morning came.
