Not My Liquor, Not My Foot.

I am in Iqaluit for a medical appointment, so finally have a moment for blogging. Also, I just had to tell this strange story. To tell the story, I have to go back to Christmas, 2008 and then come back to today. I stayed in Clyde River for Christmas that year. The day after Christmas break I got a call at school from the local RCMP detachment. I knew the guy somewhat socially, so I was really taken aback when he spoke to me in a very official voice, asking me if I had placed an order for alcohol over Christmas break. I thought he was joking and made some joke back. However, he was serious. Clyde River is an alcohol restricted community. That means that in order to purchase liquor and have it flown into the community you need to get a permit from the local liquor committee. Any other way of bringing alcohol into the community is illegal. The RCMP officer went on to inform me, in his official voice, that a liquor order in my name had arrived at the airport over Christmas. Apparently a bottle of rum had broken open and I was reported to the alcohol committee and the RCMP for illegal importation of alcohol. He also said that the alcohol committee wanted me arrested - as a message to other southerners who bring in alcohol. I was absolutely stymied - and very upset. The only thing that was absolutely clear to me was that I had not placed the order. This is a criminal code offence. Bye, bye teaching career. I went immediately to the principal and vice-principal, who knew right away that I was telling the truth. The only explanation we could think of was that somebody was using my credit card number. But how did they even make the order without a permit? I called the store in Montreal that had shipped the order (also the store who ships up my food mail) and after speaking to 3 different people, the mystery was solved. The order had been placed by a woman in Iqaluit who has the same first and last name as me. Somehow, my account number and shipping address got put with her order and I got shipped her entire Christmas liquor order. She did have a permit. I got a letter of apology from the store and an explanation was sent to the RCMP.
Fast forward to today. I am in Iqaluit for an appointment with a specialist about a problem I am having with my right foot. While I was sitting in the doctor's office I could see that the file on the desk said Debbie L. instead of Deborah A. I also thought it odd that when the doctor came to get me in the waiting room he call out "Debbie." I said to him "are you sure that's me" and pointed to the file. He looked at me like I was nuts. People will often assume Debbie so I let it go. I didn't make any connection with the liquor incident. Then he asked if I had an x-ray of my foot and I said no. Then he looked in a large envelope on his desk and sure enough, there was an x-ray - of a right foot. I am thinking that I should be seeing someone for Alzheimer's at this point. He went on to say that the x-rayed foot looked different than my foot, but that changes could have taken place since the x-ray was taken in 2005. "Where was the x-ray taken?" I asked. "Here at this hospital." I told him that I had never been in Nunavut until 2008. By now I'm sure that he thinks I am seriously nuts. I kept saying "that's not my foot." He kept saying things like "what do you mean that's not your foot?" Finally I took the file and found the birth date. Not mine. I wonder if there will be a Chapter Three in The Crossed Lives of Two Arctic Deborahs. I wonder if she knows as much about me as I do about her? I've seen the inside of her foot! I know what she drinks. I wonder how she's doing with that foot?