Archive for the ‘my story’ Category

In Memory, Paul Scott, 1952 – 2010

February 15, 2010

Paul Scott, 1952-2010

Paul

On February 9th, 2010, my dear younger brother Paul died.  He was fighting prostate cancer, but we all thought he had a good chance to defeat it.  However painful it is now, I would not trade one second of our time together, or the wealth of memories shared with my younger brother.  Here is what I wrote…
Dear Paul,
Not a day goes by that you are not in my heart and in my thoughts.  But since last Tuesday, those thoughts and love have taken a different turn just as you have stepped off the path we shared together to follow a new journey.  I miss you.

At a time like this, my mind is full of memories:  sweet chicklets so fat in our mouths we couldn’t close them; a fishing expedition for a red satin bathing suit; wobbling out to the back yard ice rink (you were a terrible skater, but your heart was in it); birthdays and Christmas and endless summer holidays.  Do you remember the Beatles?  And dances in Camlachie?  How rich my life has been to share those memories and days with you.

There were long telephone conversations, teasing and debates ranging from current events to what’s for dinner.  There were weddings, children and grandchildren born, picnics, holidays, and shared losses as we said goodbye to those we had loved together.  All the events, from ordinary to special, that give life it’s precious meaning.

There are those who would say that a life has meaning only if one has made a fortune, or invented some revolutionary technology, created great art, or devoted one’s life to charitable works.  But no, that is not right.  Each life, yours, has so much meaning.

Your wit, sometimes as sharp as a butcher’s blade, other times as subtle as an August afternoon breeze, challenging me, making me laugh or cry.  Your fingers flying over the frets and strings, your passion for music infectious.  You made that guitar sing, and I was there to enjoy it.  Poetry, songs and words that still echo in my heart.  You could have been a rock star, but you chose instead to share your gifts with those you loved best.  What an honour.  Your compassion, your kindness and care for all those in your circle of family and friends, even when you were so sick yourself.  This is what gives life, your life, so much meaning and depth, and joy.

Paul playing the guitar

Paul playing the guitar

The world is an emptier place without you.  I miss you.  Your loving sister, Wendy.

Century Storm

Spruce

Christmas card perfect

We watched with amusement as our southern east coast neighbours struggled with a huge snowstorm this past weekend. We were of course, quite smug about the whole event, since we had just endured a whopping 121 centimetres (4 feet) of fluffy snow, which broke all local records for a single storm. As you can see, from the picture at right, my hubby made a valiant attempt to clear the snow. It was overwhelming, as you can imagine.

Our car in Snow

Our neighbour about a kilometer down the road arrived with his front end loader and worked on the whole driveway a day later, for which we are very grateful, since it is very likely we would still be shoveling a week later without his help. Now that we’re cleared… gorgeous scenery, sparkling snow and intensely blue skies to frame our yard, our road and our region.

Bright Snow, Blue Sky

Bright Snow, Blue Sky

There is something wondrous in experiencing a snowstorm, a blizzard by environmental standards, standing at the windows watching the ground whiten with heaps of snow, burying all the drabness of a cold wet November, gifting us with a bright new world. Wherever the birds have gone during such terrible weather, they return to our feeder, hungry, but as cheerful as always, chittering and chirping to let us know how pleased they are with themselves. Our cats pause at the door, wondering where their familiar landmarks have gone. We struggle with heavy boots and coats, remembering long-ago days when we tobaggoned, made snow angels and hurled snowballs at each other. Today we sit by the fire, enjoying its warmth as we watch the results of the snowfall all over the east coast just in time for the holiday season.

Read about another snow fall experience here… How My Neighbor Saved America

Happy Season to All!

Organs for Sale

Warren, a kidney transplant recipient

Warren

Transplants and organs for sale has become a hot topic on TV these days.

In an interview, one doctor shrugged when he was asked if he cared where the donor organs came from.

Another man told the interviewer that his mother accepted an organ from a poor foreigner, rather than the one he had offered her. The donor, an 18-year-old girl from China, died shortly afterward. When asked if he and his mother believed that wealthy peoples’ lives have more value than the poor, he said simply, ‘that’s the way it is.’

Brokers pay the poor a few thousand dollars for their organs, then sell them to patients for thousands more.

And yes, I do know whereby I write in this blog. My husband suffered acute renal failure some years ago. He underwent dialysis for 6 years while he waited for a kidney to become available, receiving his from a young man who died suddenly. My husband, another kidney recipient, and others who received this young hero’s heart, lungs, pancreas, liver and corneas, are alive and living quality lives today for the compassionate and brave decision he and/or his family made.

We do not know the young donor’s name, but he lives in our hearts day and night. Now, since watching TV tonight, a young Chinese girl joins him in our prayers, and so many others who are offered cash instead of compassion by the wealthy, their doctors, their families.

Before Warren received his transplant, he signed up with a New England company that we now know was one of these horrible brokerages for human organs. They were aggressive and expensive and we asked them repeatedly to stop calling and emailing us, which they refused to do until after he received his transplant in Ottawa.

These brokers in human organs play upon the desperate, whether they are the poor who are lured with what they probably believe will be ‘easy money’, or the sick who want to be well, and their families.

The Ottawa General Hospital, Ontario, Canada, where my husband had his transplant, has a strict policy in effect: They will accept organs for transplant only from family members or the deceased who have signed their donor cards, or their families, who, like our young donor, agree. Otherwise, these exceptional transplant teams simply refuse to do the surgery.

On December 7th, we will celebrate Warren’s second anniversary of renewed life.

We will honor the young man who died early that same morning in 2007, and the doctors, nurses and support teams whose skills made Warren’s recovery possible. We will recognize the gifts of modern medicine, dedicated medical teams, and especially the kindness of strangers who have sacrificed so much, but there will be little room in our hearts and prayers for people such as the ones mentioned in the first paragraphs who don’t hesitate to take advantage of others.

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