My Life in Pictures

And now, a pictorial description of my day walking around Montreal.

Same color as my spork:

Made entirely from recycled materials:

Rue Saint-Catherine:

Rodney Gamboz, yesterday’s DVD recipient:

Sights around the Old Port:

Sights on my walk around:

That’s right people. I am easily amused by familiar things in unfamiliar languages. We live in a big country.

Made it to Quebec city this afternoon, had a chat with Gary Doucet, and gave him a movie:

After that I made an attempt at some down time and am still attempting to have an early night. Wish me luck!


Westside Story

Made it to Quebec…again. Only this time, I have documentation:

Stopped in Westmount and gave Dr. Robin Coombs a copy of 65_RedRoses. In keeping with the enthusiasm of the day, we struck a pose:

And now I’m off to catch some zzzs.


Disturbing Display(s)

No call from the Health Minister so far. Oh well, can’t blame a girl for trying. At least she’ll get her copy of the documentary and the note I wrote if we aren’t able to connect.

In the meantime, Karen, Gage, and I had a great time cruising around the area (Carson went shopping for skates with Grandma and Grandpa). First we stopped in Chelsea, Quebec, in search of a firefighter to give a DVD to:

But this was all we could find:

And was not exactly what we had in mind. Why is this Dalmatian flashing passers by? It’s a disturbing display, particularly for a stuffed animal.

Anyhoo, we ended up finding someone significantly better to give a DVD to:

Meet Brad Steward, of We chatted with Brad for a long time and, as you can see, got a little too comfortable. Ah well, gotta keep it interesting. I think this photo was the 4th take and we were getting too acquainted for me to do any more serious attempts at a descent picture, hence him looking normal and me looking like a Bucky-o-Hare-like caricature of myself. Brad’s website raises money for charitable organizations by using social media as a way for website visitors to share videos. The sponsoring company then donates money to the charity per viewing of the video being shared. I smell potential people! I’m glad the only firefighter we could track down was a morally corrupt stuffed dog.

Karen, Gage and I then took a little tour of downtown Ottawa:

Zey popped out for a visit too.

I’m now in the process of gearing up to head to Montreal. Wish me luck!


Rule Britannica, Rule

Okay, so yesterday was rough, but I’m glad I did it. I walked down streets we used to walk down and visited places we used to visit. Most notably, Toronto General Hospital. I don’t know why I had the urge to go there, but I did. I stopped the car in the underground parking where we used to park, turned it off, and started crying. After I got enough of a grip, I went upstairs, ordered a coffee, and sat where I used to sit in the atrium when I would call people to let them know how Joey was doing. That part of the hospital looked very much the same:


I cried there too. And shook. No one batted an eye. People there have their own shit going on. I was glad to go unnoticed.

When I felt ready enough to move on, I visited the ground floor. Things there looked very much the same. The Hero Burger where Joey posed for a picture with his surgeons was still in tact, the really nice chicken wing guy is still there, as is the Greek restaurant and manager, as well as, unfortunately, Bento Nouveao Sushi:



Shudder. I stood across from the Subway where Joey took his first outing off the 7th floor after his lung transplant:

I feel a special affinity for this place. There are a lot of bad memories here, but a lot of good ones too. This is the place we came when Joey didn’t die. Where his life was saved because of his donor and a kick ass medical team. I don’t know why I had to go back, but I did, so I went. I feel better for doing it.

Afterwards, I did some more walking around, ordered Indian food from my favorite delivery place in Toronto, and hung out with Kathryn and Samuel for the rest of the evening. It was an exhausting day, but I needed to do it.

This morning, I left T-Dot bright and early. My first stop was in Pickering, where I met with Doug Dickerson, the Deputy Mayor. We had a good chat about Joey and CF. He dubbed me a “Walking Encyclopedia” about Cystic Fibrosis. Complimentary, but depressing nonetheless. Here we are with his new DVD:

From Pickerton, I moved onto Ottawa. While waiting to see my MP, John Weston, I went on a walk around the outside of the Parliament Buildings:

They are pretty impressive; the sight of them took my breath away. Cystic Fibrosis does that too, in case I haven’t mentioned. Just call me Britannica. And then make a donation to find a cure. Lol…sort of.

My meeting with John went well. He extended my appointment, took the time to listen to what I had to say about CF and organ donation, and attempted to make arrangements with the Minister of Health to meet with me tomorrow. My fingers are crossed that she has time. Just in case, I left her copy of the DVD with my MP, who agreed to deliver it to her for me, along with a note a wrote to her while I was in his office:


I am now on my way to visit Karen, Carson, Gage, Arlene, and Allen. How lucky is it that ¾ of the Canmore crew happened to be in Ottawa when I’m here? I’d say pretty freaking lucky. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get going so I can play trains my nephew.


Last Day in T-Dot

Today was exhausting, but I’m glad I dragged myself through. Had a major meltdown last night after I went to bed, obviously. Woke up with the goal of reducing that damage because I could tell already that I was in the same headspace. Talked to Richard, then dragged myself to the gym and sweat a lot. It helped a bit, for a while. But that’s the best I can do.

Right now, I am as okay as I get. The day was tough, but good overall. I’m glad I spent the extra night in Toronto.

On the road again tomorrow.


Long on the Sides and Crazy on the Top, Please

Sometimes it hits me like a punch in the face. Last night was one of those times. I am never going to get to see him again. No matter how long I stay in Toronto, no matter how many people I talk to about CF and organ donation, no matter how many walks I go on around places we have walked before or hospitals he has stayed in. He is dead. My Joey is dead. And no matter what I do I can’t bring him back. No matter how much reflecting I do, healthy activities I engage in, or attempts I make at moving forward, or keeping busy, or distracting myself. Joey is dead. I am at a loss.

Feeling marginally better this morning, although it should also be noted that it would be pretty tough to feel any worse. The day is going to start out with some form of vigorous exercise because that always makes me feel slightly less bad, then I’m going to move onto a few of my other feel good tricks that don’t always work, but do sometimes. Just got off the phone with the Sandman too. He could sense my down-in-the-dumpsishness, even from the other side of the country.

And you thought he was only good at not getting haircuts.