I’ve stepped into the Cambridge health care crisis that’s unfolding as we speak. After spending yesterday afternoon talking with frontline workers and community members near the soon-to-close Cambridge Consumption and Treatment Services site (CTS), the human toll of this policy decision has become painfully clear.
The Region of Waterloo confirmed this week that the lease for the temporary CTS site at 150 Main Street in Cambridge will not be renewed when it expires on July 31st. Walking through the neighborhood, you could feel the tension between relief and deep concern.
“We’ve been operating in survival mode since day one,” explained Sarah Robertson, a harm reduction specialist who’s worked at the site since it opened in 2022. “Our clients finally knew where to find help, and now we’re telling them everything’s changing again.”
The Cambridge site has been providing crucial services to vulnerable populations, including supervised consumption, addiction counseling, and connections to housing services. According to Waterloo Region Public Health data, the facility has reversed more than 70 overdoses since opening, potentially saving dozens of lives in a community hit hard by the opioid crisis.
Regional Councillor Pam Wolf acknowledged the complicated dynamics at play. “The site was always meant to be temporary while we determined a permanent location. We’re committed to continuing these services, but finding the right location has proven incredibly challenging.”
Cambridge Mayor Jan Liggett has previously expressed concerns about the Main Street location, citing its proximity to businesses and residential areas. In a statement released through her office, she noted that “balancing public health needs with community impact requires thoughtful, long-term planning.”
What’s striking in conversations with both supporters and critics is how Cambridge’s situation reflects broader tensions playing out across mid-sized Canadian cities. Communities recognize the need for harm reduction services but struggle with questions of where and how these services should operate.
The Region is currently evaluating three potential permanent locations, though officials declined to identify specific addresses during ongoing negotiations. This information vacuum has created uncertainty for both service users and neighbors.
“I come here three times a week,” said Michael, a site user who asked that his last name be withheld. “The staff know me. They’ve called ambulances when I needed help. Where am I supposed to go in August?”
Walking through downtown Cambridge yesterday, I stopped at three businesses within two blocks of the current site. Opinions varied dramatically.
“It’s been a difficult two years,” admitted Elena Kovacs, who owns a café nearby. “I’ve had to call police multiple times for situations in our parking lot. But I also know these are human beings who need help.”
Statistics from the Waterloo Regional Police Service show calls for service in the immediate area increased by approximately 18% since the site opened, though a direct correlation hasn’t been established. Meanwhile, regional overdose deaths have remained stubbornly high – 136 lives lost in 2022 and preliminary data suggesting similar numbers for 2023.
Health policy experts point to the challenges inherent in addressing addiction issues during a housing crisis. Dr. Karen Thompson from Wilfrid Laurier University’s Social Work department told me, “Consumption sites are one piece of a complex puzzle. Without addressing affordable housing and mental health supports, we’re putting Band-Aids on bullet wounds.”
The Region has committed to maintaining service continuity, though details remain vague. A temporary mobile unit has been proposed as one potential stopgap measure until a permanent location is secured.
For frontline workers like Robertson, the uncertainty creates practical challenges. “We’ve built trust with a vulnerable population. That trust is fragile and hard-won. Every disruption sets us back months.”
This morning, I attended a planning meeting where regional staff outlined transition options. The room was divided between those concerned about neighborhood impacts and advocates warning about the consequences of service disruptions. The tension was palpable, with voices occasionally rising as community members expressed frustration with the process.
What became clear through both official statements and hallway conversations is that Cambridge’s situation represents a microcosm of Canada’s struggling response to the opioid crisis. Cities are caught between immediate needs and long-term solutions, between public health imperatives and community concerns.
As Cambridge awaits answers about what comes next, both sides agree on one thing: the status quo isn’t working for anyone. The question remains whether the region can find a solution that bridges these divides before the July deadline arrives.
For people like Michael, these policy debates have life-or-death implications. “I don’t care about politics,” he told me as we parted ways. “I just need to know where to go when I need help.”
The Region has promised further updates at next week’s council meeting. Many lives hang in the balance of those decisions.
