
What charging for COVID-19 vaccines means for Albertans going forward
When the province announced that most Albertans will have to pay for COVID-19 vaccines themselves going forward, the phones at Mohamed Elfishawi's two Edmonton pharmacies started ringing.
"People are scared," Elfishawi said during an interview at his south Edmonton location, describing the calls he's had from clients – especially seniors.
Earlier this month, the province announced it would only cover vaccines for particular high-risk groups: people living in care homes and group settings, those receiving home care, people on social programs such as AISH, and immunocompromised individuals.
Everyone else will have to pay an estimated $110 if they want the vaccine.
Accessing the shot will also be more limited: in the near future, pharmacists like Elfishawi will no longer be allowed to administer them, they will only be available at health clinics.
Alberta's new path makes it an outlier in Canada, prompting questions about why the province has diverged from national recommendations on vaccines, what the timeline is for rolling out the new distribution system and whether or not the vaccine can be added to group health benefit plans.
Will group benefits offer coverage?
The United Nurses of Alberta (UNA) is already in talks with employers, seeking to get COVID immunization coverage added to group health benefits.
"But even if they do, what that means is that it will fall onto the insurance companies, which will mean increased premiums both for employees and employers," said Heather Smith, UNA's president.
UNA is also looking into benefits covering the cost for its staff. If it can't get sorted out in time for the fall rollout of vaccines, Smith said they plan to offer reimbursement for employees who pay to get immunized.
Jason Schilling, president of the Alberta Teachers' Association, said they are exploring options through insurance, but he has also written to ministers asking them to reverse the decision.
"We have policy around this that teachers should get vaccinations provided to them because they're working in congregated settings with students," Schilling said. "We know we have overcrowded classrooms."
Alberta Union of Public Employees vice-president Bonnie Gostola calls the plan to charge for the shots a "slap in the face" to members working in roles like hospital porters, housekeeping, and other service roles.
"Workers that barely make above minimum wage — $110 is one day pay for those members – it's excessive, especially when they are also responsible for looking after other people," she said.
Gostola said AUPE has been telling workers this is an occupational health and safety issue, and that it believes the employer needs to take on the responsibility of covering the cost of vaccines.
Some employers are suggesting other avenues for staff. The Canadian Air Transport Security Authority said in a statement that its workers will be able to use their employee health care spending account to pay for the shot.
A complex change
For people who do have health benefits, getting COVID vaccines added to group benefit coverage won't be simple. Alberta Blue Cross – a non-profit insurance provider that runs government coverage programs as well as private plans – has been getting inquiries from both employers and plan members about covering the vaccines.
"We are waiting for more information on the COVID vaccines — including the cost and specific details on the way Albertans will access and be charged for the COVID vaccine — before we can make a decision regarding private plan coverage," said Blue Cross spokesperson Sharmin Nault Hislop in a statement.
"The change is complex and there are a lot of factors at play."
Hislop explained that it's not a simple internal decision as private plans have many different designs, some including vaccine coverage and some that don't.
The organization also has an internal drug review process that needs to be done to determine if and how it can add COVID-19 vaccines to its roster of covered medications.
U.S. comparison
There is variability in the types of health care and medications publicly covered province-to-province. For example, shingles vaccines are free for older adults in some jurisdictions but not others.
But changing access to COVID-19 shots, which were freely available across the country for so long, creates a compelling case study, said Jamie Daw, an assistant professor at Columbia University's Mailman School of Public Health.
"I think it's not something that anyone expected access would be taken away," Daw said.
"I think that's sort of part of this broader conversation about sort of privatization in the Canadian health-care system more generally, and how we should grapple with it and what policies and regulations might be needed in cases like this."
Daw said that in the United States, about 90 per cent of Americans can still get COVID vaccines for free — covered by private insurance, and Medicare and Medicaid programs.
Unlike Canada where following the isn't required, the U.S. has federal regulations requiring that certain vaccines be fully covered by public and private coverage.
Diverging from NACI's recommendations
The province said in the 2023-2024 respiratory virus season, 135 million worth of doses went to waste. For the upcoming season, Alberta has ordered 500,000 doses – some of which will be given for free to the identified high-risk groups, and the rest available for purchase to help Alberta recoup the coast.
Most Albertans will soon pay about $110 for a COVID shot
1 day ago
Duration 2:43
With Alberta soon to end free COVID-19 vaccines for most residents, there's growing concern about cost, coverage and access — especially for vulnerable seniors. When provincial funding ends, most Albertans will have to pay an estimated $110 per dose.
A statement from Minister of Primary and Preventive Health Services Adriana LaGrange's office this week said the decision still offers protection to vulnerable Albertans, and takes low uptake of the vaccine by the general population into account.
And while Lagrange's office said the province was informed by NACI's recommendations on vaccines, it decided not to offer free vaccines to a number of high risk, priority groups that NACI identifies because of "Alberta's specific needs," such as uptake trends.
Those high-risk groups not being offered free vaccines include all people over 65, pregnant people, Indigenous people, members of racialized and other equity-denied communities, and health-care workers and other care providers in community settings.
The exclusion of people over 65 is particularly concerning to Dr. Lynora Saxinger, an infectious diseases specialist at the University of Alberta. She said it's a major deviation from NACI's recommendations, which do take cost to provinces into consideration.
"It doesn't really endorse using the vaccine very strongly from a public health perspective if they're not covering it," Saxinger said.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


CTV News
2 hours ago
- CTV News
Many forget the damage done by diseases like whooping cough, measles and rubella. Not these families
Jacque Farnham, 60, left, walks with her mother, Janith, 80, to the Visual Arts Center at the Washington Pavilion in Sioux Falls, S.D., on May 20, 2025. (AP Photo/Shelby Lum) SIOUX FALLS, S.D. — In the time before widespread vaccination, death often came early. Devastating infectious diseases ran rampant in America, killing millions of children and leaving others with lifelong health problems. These illnesses were the main reason why nearly one in five children in 1900 never made it to their fifth birthday. Over the next century, vaccines virtually wiped out long-feared scourges like polio and measles and drastically reduced the toll of many others. Today, however, some preventable, contagious diseases are making a comeback as vaccine hesitancy pushes immunization rates down. And well-established vaccines are facing suspicion even from public officials, with Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a longtime anti-vaccine activist, running the federal health department. 'This concern, this hesitancy, these questions about vaccines are a consequence of the great success of the vaccines – because they eliminated the diseases,' said Dr. William Schaffner, an infectious disease expert at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. 'If you're not familiar with the disease, you don't respect or even fear it. And therefore you don't value the vaccine.' Anti-vaccine activists even portray the shots as a threat, focusing on the rare risk of side effects while ignoring the far larger risks posed by the diseases themselves — and years of real-world data that experts say proves the vaccines are safe. Some Americans know the reality of these preventable diseases all too well. For them, news of measles outbreaks and rising whooping cough cases brings back terrible memories of lives forever changed – and a longing to spare others from similar pain. Getting rubella while pregnant shaped two lives With a mother's practiced, guiding hand, 80-year-old Janith Farnham helped steer her 60-year-old daughter's walker through a Sioux Falls art center. They stopped at a painting of a cow wearing a hat. Janith pointed to the hat, then to her daughter Jacque's Minnesota Twins cap. Jacque did the same. 'That's so funny!' Janith said, leaning in close to say the words in sign language too. Jacque was born with congenital rubella syndrome, which can cause a host of issues including hearing impairment, eye problems, heart defects and intellectual disabilities. There was no vaccine against rubella back then, and Janith contracted the viral illness very early in the pregnancy, when she had up to a 90 per cent chance of giving birth to a baby with the syndrome. Janith recalled knowing 'things weren't right' almost immediately. The baby wouldn't respond to sounds or look at anything but lights. She didn't like to be held close. Her tiny heart sounded like it purred – evidence of a problem that required surgery at four months old. Janith did all she could to help Jacque thrive, sending her to the Colorado School for the Deaf and the Blind and using skills she honed as a special education teacher. She and other parents of children with the syndrome shared insights in a support group. Meanwhile, the condition kept taking its toll. As a young adult, Jacque developed diabetes, glaucoma and autistic behaviors. Eventually, arthritis set in. Today, Jacque lives in an adult residential home a short drive from Janith's place. Above her bed is a net overflowing with stuffed animals. On a headboard shelf are photo books Janith created, filled with memories like birthday parties and trips to Mount Rushmore. Jacque's days typically begin with an insulin shot and breakfast before she heads off to a day program. She gets together with her mom four or five days a week. They often hang out at Janith's townhome, where Jacque has another bedroom decorated with her own artwork and quilts Janith sewed for her. Jacque loves playing with Janith's dog, watching sports on television and looking up things on her iPad. Janith marvels at Jacque's sense of humour, gratefulness, curiosity and affectionate nature despite all she's endured. Jacque is generous with kisses and often signs 'double I love yous' to family, friends and new people she meets. 'When you live through so much pain and so much difficulty and so much challenge, sometimes I think: Well, she doesn't know any different,' Janith said. Given what her family has been through, Janith believes younger people are being selfish if they choose not to get their children the MMR shot against measles, mumps and rubella. 'It's more than frustrating. I mean, I get angry inside,' she said. 'I know what can happen, and I just don't want anybody else to go through this.' Delaying the measles vaccine can be deadly More than half a century has passed, but Patricia Tobin still vividly recalls getting home from work, opening the car door and hearing her mother scream. Inside the house, her little sister Karen lay unconscious on the bathroom floor. It was 1970, and Karen was 6. She'd contracted measles shortly after Easter. While an early vaccine was available, it wasn't required for school in Miami where they lived. Karen's doctor discussed immunizing the first grader, but their mother didn't share his sense of urgency. 'It's not that she was against it,' Tobin said. 'She just thought there was time.' Then came a measles outbreak. Karen – who Tobin described as a 'very endearing, sweet child' who would walk around the house singing – quickly became very sick. The afternoon she collapsed in the bathroom, Tobin, then 19, called the ambulance. Karen never regained consciousness. 'She immediately went into a coma and she died of encephalitis,' said Tobin, who stayed at her bedside in the hospital. 'We never did get to speak to her again.' Today, all states require that children get certain vaccines to attend school. But a growing number of people are making use of exemptions allowed for medical, religious or philosophical reasons. Vanderbilt's Schaffner said fading memories of measles outbreaks were exacerbated by a fraudulent, retracted study claiming a link between the MMR shot and autism. The result? Most states are below the 95 per cent vaccination threshold for kindergartners — the level needed to protect communities against measles outbreaks. 'I'm very upset by how cavalier people are being about the measles,' Tobin said. 'I don't think that they realize how destructive this is.' Polio changed a life twice One of Lora Duguay's earliest memories is lying in a hospital isolation ward with her feverish, paralyzed body packed in ice. She was three years old. 'I could only see my parents through a glass window. They were crying and I was screaming my head off,' said Duguay, 68. 'They told my parents I would never walk or move again.' It was 1959 and Duguay, of Clearwater, Fla., had polio. It mostly preyed on children and was one of the most feared diseases in the U.S., experts say, causing some terrified parents to keep children inside and avoid crowds during epidemics. Given polio's visibility, the vaccine against it was widely and enthusiastically welcomed. But the early vaccine that Duguay got was only about 80 per cent to 90 per cent effective. Not enough people were vaccinated or protected yet to stop the virus from spreading. Duguay initially defied her doctors. After intensive treatment and physical therapy, she walked and even ran – albeit with a limp. She got married, raised a son and worked as a medical transcriptionist. But in her early 40s, she noticed she couldn't walk as far as she used to. A doctor confirmed she was in the early stages of post-polio syndrome, a neuromuscular disorder that worsens over time. One morning, she tried to stand up and couldn't move her left leg. After two weeks in a rehab facility, she started painting to stay busy. Eventually, she joined arts organizations and began showing and selling her work. Art 'gives me a sense of purpose,' she said. These days, she can't hold up her arms long enough to create big oil paintings at an easel. So she pulls her wheelchair up to an electric desk to paint on smaller surfaces like stones and petrified wood. The disease that changed her life twice is no longer a problem in the U.S. So many children get the vaccine — which is far more effective than earlier versions — that it doesn't just protect individuals but it prevents occasional cases that arrive in the U.S. from spreading further. ' Herd immunity ' keeps everyone safe by preventing outbreaks that can sicken the vulnerable. After whooping cough struck, 'she was gone' Every night, Katie Van Tornhout rubs a plaster cast of a tiny foot, a vestige of the daughter she lost to whooping cough at just 37 days old. Callie Grace was born on Christmas Eve 2009 after Van Tornhout and her husband tried five years for a baby. She was six weeks early but healthy. 'She loved to have her feet rubbed,' said the 40-year-old Lakeville, Indiana mom. 'She was this perfect baby.' When Callie turned a month old, she began to cough, prompting a visit to the doctor, who didn't suspect anything serious. By the following night, Callie was doing worse. They went back. In the waiting room, she became blue and limp in Van Tornhout's arms. The medical team whisked her away and beat lightly on her back. She took a deep breath and giggled. Though the giggle was reassuring, the Van Tornhouts went to the ER, where Callie's skin turned blue again. For a while, medical treatment helped. But at one point she started squirming, and medical staff frantically tried to save her. 'Within minutes,' Van Tornhout said, 'she was gone.' Van Tornhout recalled sitting with her husband and their lifeless baby for four hours, 'just talking to her, thinking about what could have been.' Callie's viewing was held on her original due date – the same day the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention called to confirm she had pertussis, or whooping cough. She was too young for the Tdap vaccine against it and was exposed to someone who hadn't gotten their booster shot. Today, next to the cast of Callie's foot is an urn with her ashes and a glass curio cabinet filled with mementos like baby shoes. 'My kids to this day will still look up and say, 'Hey Callie, how are you?'' said Van Tornhout, who has four children and a stepson. 'She's part of all of us every day.' Van Tornhout now advocates for childhood immunization through the nonprofit Vaccinate Your Family. She also shares her story with people she meets, like a pregnant customer who came into the restaurant her family ran saying she didn't want to immunize her baby. She later returned with her vaccinated four-month-old. 'It's up to us as adults to protect our children – like, that's what a parent's job is,' Van Tornhout said. 'I watched my daughter die from something that was preventable … You don't want to walk in my shoes.' The Associated Press Health and Science Department receives support from the Howard Hughes Medical Institute's Department of Science Education and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. The AP is solely responsible for all content. Laura Ungar, The Associated Press


CBC
2 hours ago
- CBC
Indigenous people's health tightly tied to speaking their own languages, review finds
Social Sharing A new research review out of the University of British Columbia (UBC) has found that Indigenous people experience better health outcomes when they speak their traditional languages. Researchers analyzed 262 academic and community-based studies from Canada, the United States, Australia and New Zealand, and determined 78 per cent of them connected Indigenous language vitality with improved health. Studies found positive outcomes ranged from better physical and mental health, to increased social connections and healing, to greater educational success. One 2007 study out of B.C. revealed that youth suicide rates were down in First Nations communities where larger amounts of people spoke Indigenous languages. "Part of the reason why we undertook this literature review in the first place was because almost everyone that we speak with in Indigenous communities who is working on language revitalization report that reclaiming and learning their language has played a big role in their own personal health," said co-author Julia Schillo, a PhD student in UBC's linguistics department. She did the literature review, Language improves health and wellbeing in Indigenous communities, alongside a team of UBC researchers, with help from the University of Toronto and the University of Sydney. One of their major findings was the importance of health care being offered in an Indigenous language, with proper translation. Without that, patients were at risk of being diagnosed incorrectly or misunderstanding medical instructions, and reported feeling alienation or a lack of respect. In one example, Inuit children were misclassified on cognitive tests because their testing was in English, not Inuktitut. The review found connections between language and well being run deeper than direct communication, too. For instance, Schillo says physical health improves when Indigenous people participate in traditional sports and consume a traditional diet — and that both of those activities correlate with speaking traditional languages. "Based off of the literature review, but also people that I've talked to, it has to do with how language revitalization plays into identity and feelings of belonging and connection," she said. "It has a lot to do with healing from trauma, and intergenerational trauma that's related to the Indian residential school system." Those findings hold true for Chantu William, a young Tsilhqot'in language speaker and second generation residential school survivor who says learning her language growing up supported her mental health and identity as an Indigenous person. William, who wasn't involved in the study, is an early childhood educator and a policy analyst in her nation. She's working on language handbooks to give to parents at the local daycare, "for the language to stay inside the home." She co-developed language curriculum with her mother, as part of the Youth Empowered Speakers Program, with the First Peoples' Cultural Council. William says the idea for the language handbooks came from Māori relatives in New Zealand, who have similar programming that started in the 1980s, and are strong language speakers. "I feel so honoured to be able to teach and learn [Tsilhqot'in] with my preschool and day care kids and the youth in my life. I feel so grateful that I'm in this space, in our community sharing the language." William says hearing youth and elders speak the language with each other makes her happy, and that for her, "it gave direction in life." Johanna Sam, who is also Tsilhqot'in and an assistant professor at UBC in the department of education, says that if governments want to support Indigenous health, language revitalization needs to be part of the conversation. "Indigenous languages are so much more than words; they carry our laws, our stories and our knowledge systems that have sustained our nations since time immemorial," she said, noting that some words in Indigenous languages cannot be translated to English. Sam says she didn't have a lot of opportunity to learn her language being a first-generation residential school survivor, but she grew up hearing older generations in her family speak it and that uplifted her pride and identity. She wants to see more investment in Indigenous language curriculum and more options for health care to be provided in Indigenous languages. It's something the review's researchers are also calling for. They're asking all levels of government to provide long-term funding for Indigenous language revitalization and to recognize speaking the languages as a social determinant of health.


CTV News
5 hours ago
- CTV News
Climate change is driving a rise in tick-borne diseases. Here's what to know.
This is a March 2002 file photo of a deer tick under a microscope in the entomology lab at the University of Rhode Island in South Kingstown, R.I. (AP Photo/Victoria Arocho, File) TORONTO — A warming climate is driving a rise in Lyme disease and the introduction of lesser-known tick-borne diseases, public health specialists say. 'Climate change in Canada is happening at a much more accelerated rate than we see in parts of the rest of the world,' said Heather Coatsworth, chief of field studies at the National Microbiology Laboratory in Winnipeg. 'Ticks, which are eight-legged organisms, but general bugs, all require a certain amount of heat and humidity to complete their life cycle,' she said. Ontario, Quebec and Nova Scotia continue to be the hot spots for blacklegged ticks, which can carry bacteria, parasites and viruses that cause disease in humans — but the changing climate is allowing the tick population to grow in other parts of the country, including Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta and British Columbia, Coatsworth said. Janet Sperling, a scientist who specializes in bugs and the president of the Canadian Lyme Disease Foundation, said that means increased awareness of tick-borne illnesses is needed not only among the public, but among primary-care providers and infectious disease specialists. 'A lot of doctors have been told — this was their training — 'you can't get Lyme disease in Alberta; if you don't have a travel history don't worry about it,'' said Sperling, who lives in Edmonton. 'There's no doubt that it has changed and the education hasn't caught up with some of the doctors,' she said. The rise in tick-borne disease doesn't mean you should stay inside, experts agree. But you can protect yourself. Here's what to know about the illnesses and how to safely enjoy the summer weather. HOW COMMON IS LYME DISEASE? Lyme disease has been on the rise in Canada and the United States for several years. When provincial public health units started monitoring it in 2009, they reported 144 cases across the country. The preliminary case count for 2024 is 5,239, according to the Public Health Agency of Canada. The real number is likely higher because many people may have had very general symptoms and never got a diagnosis, Coatsworth said. 'There's estimates that if things keep going the way they are and climate change keeps going the way things go, that in 25 years we'd have about half a million cases of Lyme disease here in Canada,' she said. WHAT ARE THE SYMPTOMS OF LYME DISEASE? Lyme disease can feel like many other illnesses and may bring on fever, chills, fatigue, headache, swollen lymph nodes and/or muscle and joint aches. One telltale sign of Lyme disease is a rash that looks like a bull's eye, a target or that is circular or oval-shaped. But Coatsworth cautions that about 30 per cent of people who are infected never get a rash, so a Lyme disease diagnosis shouldn't be ruled out if people have other symptoms. WHAT ARE SOME OTHER TICK-BORNE DISEASES? In the last couple of years, some provinces have started monitoring three other diseases spread by blacklegged ticks: anaplasmosis, babesiosis and Powassan virus. Of those, anaplasmosis — although still rare — seems to be growing the fastest, said Coatsworth: 'It's kind of the new kid on the block.' When public health officials first started monitoring it around 2012, there were about 10 to 50 cases per year in Canada. There were more than 700 cases of anaplasmosis reported last year, Coatsworth said. 'It's really picking up speed within the population.' The symptoms of anaplasmosis can be similar to Lyme disease, without a rash. They can also include cough, diarrhea, abdominal pain and vomiting, according to the Public Health Agency of Canada. Babesiosis can also cause similar symptoms to Lyme disease without a rash, but it often causes anemia as well, Coatsworth said. Powassan virus can cause fever, chills, headache, vomiting and general weakness but it often progresses to serious neurological symptoms, such as encephalitis (brain swelling) and meningitis. CAN THESE DISEASES BE TREATED? Lyme disease and anaplasmosis are both caused by bacteria and can be treated with antibiotics, usually starting with doxycycline, said Coatsworth. Babesiosis is caused by a parasite and is similar to malaria, she said. It can be treated with anti-parasitic medications. There is no treatment for Powassan virus. Patients are treated with supportive care, which can include intravenous fluids, medications to reduce brain swelling and respiratory assistance. WHAT KIND OF TICKS CARRY THESE DISEASES? Two types of blacklegged ticks carry these diseases: Ixodes scapularis, also called a deer tick, is found in several parts of Canada, especially Ontario, Quebec and Nova Scotia. In parts of British Columbia, the dominant tick is Ixodes pacificus, also known as the western blacklegged tick. Ticks feed on the blood of deer, mice, rabbits and other mammals, as well as birds and reptiles. Birds can carry the ticks long distances, so they can be transported to different parts of Canada. The ticks get infected if the host animal is infected, and they in turn transmit the disease to humans when they bite them and latch on. WHAT DO THE TICKS LOOK LIKE? 'A lot of people are very surprised when I show them a blacklegged tick. They can't believe how small they are,' said Dr. Curtis Russell, a vector-borne disease specialist at Public Health Ontario. An adult tick that isn't full of blood is about the size of a sesame seed. A younger tick is about the size of a poppyseed. WHERE ARE TICKS FOUND? Ticks are found in wooded and grassy areas, according to the Public Health Agency of Canada. That includes forests, parks and hiking trails, but ticks can also live in more populated areas, Coatsworth said. '(It's) a lot about the animals that exist in those environments. So a lot of those are peri-urban spaces ... kind of those in-between spaces that now have become just maybe your local neighbourhood park where there's a lot more squirrels. Small rodents and white-tailed deer, especially, have really contributed to sustaining the populations of ticks.' HOW DO I PREVENT TICK BITES? Preventing tick bites is similar to repelling mosquitoes, said Dr. Mayank Singal, a public health physician with the BC Centre for Disease Control. Wearing long sleeves, long pants and using bug spray are all important measures. Choosing light-coloured clothing is best because it's easier to spot a tick when it lands. Singal also encourages 'trying to not come in contact with foliage and bushes, because that's typically how they will latch on.' Russell said that means when hiking, stay in the middle of the trail. After outdoor activities, do a full-body tick check, including parts of the body that weren't exposed. Russell suggested taking a bath or a shower. 'You can check all your areas where the ticks might have been and if they haven't bit you yet ... they can maybe wash off,' Russell said. 'They usually crawl around ... before they bite and they usually tend to bite your hairline, your armpits, the back of your legs, your groin area.' Russell also recommends washing your clothes and putting them in the dryer, where the high heat will kill ticks. IF I FIND A TICK, SHOULD I REMOVE IT? Yes. Do it with tweezers as soon as possible, experts agree. A tick will embed its mouth in the skin as with the legs sticking out and it's important to remove the whole tick. 'You want to grab it as close to the skin edge as possible, squeeze the tweezers ... and grab the tick and then pull it straight up,' said Singal. 'We don't want to twist, we don't want to go left and right. Just pull it straight up so that we get all of it out as much as possible.' It generally takes about 24 hours for the tick to transmit Lyme disease, anaplasmosis or babesiosis while it's latched on. Powassan virus can be transmitted as quickly as 15 minutes after attachment, but very few ticks currently carry the virus, according to the Public Health Agency of Canada. THEN WHAT? People can take a photo of the tick and submit it to along with information about where you were when you think it bit you. The service, run by several universities and public health agencies, will tell you what kind of tick it is and how much tick-borne disease risk there is in the area. If you had a tick on you and begin to develop any symptoms, see your health-care provider and let them know you were possibly exposed to tick-borne illness, Russell said. -- This report by The Canadian Press was first published June 28, 2025. Canadian Press health coverage receives support through a partnership with the Canadian Medical Association. CP is solely responsible for this content. Nicole Ireland, The Canadian Press