tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-248387378011788422024-03-19T13:03:14.750-04:00One More Potato in the Pot9 children, 9 wonders, 9 gifts from Life. A mix of children born from body-soul-heart. I was blessed with childbirth 5 times. Then came a miracle: international adoption from Vietnam. Some of us just took different paths. From a strong desire to make a difference in the lives of the poor in Vietnam came Twins for Hope. A way to give, to pay it forward. Who can't make time to lend a hand? Is 9 children a lot? Not so much. One more child just means adding one more potato in the pot!Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.comBlogger123125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-63234746029047917292021-12-25T11:44:00.034-05:002021-12-26T17:06:27.044-05:00An Orange in my Stocking<p> <span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">An orange in a stocking is said to represent a gift of gold from Saint Nicholas. Growing up, my brother and I always had a candy cane, a chocolate and an orange in our stocking. I never knew the meaning of the orange and honestly always found it quite odd. Stockings were not a big thing by any means in my family.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-fe507a1e-7fff-d131-6707-76cdc2ca9362"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we started to have children, we mixed traditions from both families and the stockings took a whole new dimension. Quantity over quality, source of stress and anxiety. Finding stuff, wrapping it, making sure the stockings are overflowing, and spending on unnecessary items. I have lost sleep over this.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Things took a different turn this year. For the first time, my children have had to split themselves between their parents. I feel sorry for the guilt they are feeling when they are with one parent and not the other. I have experienced anxiety over these holidays and wished they would never come. I am sitting here alone on this Christmas morning, not something a mom of nine would ever have imagined.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I must admit I am at peace as I reminisce over Christmas eve and early this morning with my beautiful bunch. My older daughters are absolute gems and have been pillars through this all for their younger siblings. Smiles, laughter and hugs brightened my little place up. Of course, behind the smiles there is a whole lot not being mentioned. You quickly learn to shove the dust under the rug to keep a good face in spite of your heart being in pieces. My kids need me, they need me to remain strong for them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My children and I are now making new memories, building new traditions. Maybe the time has come to renew with long lost traditions and go back to a more minimalist approach. The stockings here were not as full as they once were, and it was deliberate on my part. I decided I was not going to try to keep up with the Jones, that I was going to spare myself from the Holidays' extravagant frenzy. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The biggest lesson of this new normal came from my son who insisted with his sister that she put an orange in my stocking. This young lad made a point, a loud statement without even knowing it. I know very well that my children have a good basis laid down and that with understanding, love and a lot of acknowledgement of their feelings we will get through this together. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Son, thank you for being who you are. Thank you for showing me that you know what is essential in life.</span></p></span><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-90413729045717742592019-08-28T17:01:00.000-04:002019-08-28T17:01:13.725-04:00The Sound of the Cicadas<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 22pt;">Waking up to the bustling of my mother preparing ‘’the picnic’’ for a day at the cottage is one of my most precious memories growing up.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 20pt;">My brother and I grew up with an extension to our family of four: mom and her slightly older sister having been like two peas in a pod their whole life, it was only logical and natural for the two families to mingle and do so much together. Although different in so many ways, the two brother-in-laws were closer than brothers could ever be. There never was any open disagreement between them, and my uncle being such a wise man could always find a way to connect with dad in difficult times when everyone else would give up. Best friends until the very end, they are now side by side at the columbarium, each in their pigeon box, patiently waiting for the love of their life to join them. I grew up with three additional ‘’brothers’’: the oldest was soon on the outside, preceding us in the normal flow of life, graduating from university way before I could spell it and showing up at the house with his brand new Renault 5. The middle boy was the same age as my brother and the two of them could write a book about their many complex adventures: playing strategy board games for hours, butterfly hunting afternoons not always ending so safely, and bike excursions requiring advanced planning, to only name a few of the plans those two brains could come up with. The youngest was my age and soon displayed as much patience as his father, tolerating the bossy me and bending to my many girlish play expectations. These three cousins are now righteous grown men traveling the same path my brother and I are on, caring for their mother afflicted with Alzheimer’s.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 20pt;">The cottage was not ours. It belonged to my aunt and uncle. We visited several times during the summer and cross-country skied over during winter. Located in Sainte-Catherine-de-la-Jacques-Cartier, this log cabin on stilts, bordering a small lake filled with trout, was separated from the main drag by a dirt road and a gully, which became inaccessible by car during winter. These ski adventures in winter were just as enjoyable as our summer days visiting aunt Paulette, uncle Claude and the cousins.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 20pt;">I can close my eyes and vividly remember the days filled with simple pleasures spent in this secluded haven. The fire was comforting in winter, as we would eat the lunch my mother had packed for us: a sandwich and a thermos of warm soup. With rosy cheeks and toes barely thawed out, the children would run back outside to explore the surroundings and try to find animal footprints in the fresh snow, while the adults would stay inside and chat, enjoying the warmth of the fire burning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 20pt;">In the summer, we spent the afternoons by the lake capturing tadpoles and frogs, avoiding snakes (or in my case running away from boys chasing me with snakes), or ‘’boating’’ in the inflatable raft. Maybe once or twice a summer, dad and uncle Claude would actually leave the comfort of their chair on the veranda of the cottage to come join us at ‘’the beach’’ for a dip. I loved when my very tall uncle carried me on his shoulders, thus giving me a whole new perspective on life from up above, or hold me when I tried to walk on the unsteady split-rail cedar fence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 20pt;">The tension would rise as the day went by and the older boys levelled the golf croquet ‘’field’’ for the traditional game after supper. They would rake the sandy space with care and fend the playing field from people walking through until the game took place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 20pt;">How I loved the quietness of this cozy place surrounded by the forest, where occasionally, a woodpecker would break the silence, pounding at a tree I would try to locate to see the culprit in action. Otherwise, the only sounds breaking the stillness were the children’s laughter as they played in the water, the wooden mallets striking the balls and followed with joyful cheers or the crickets waking up at dusk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 20pt;">But there was more… I never realized at the time that the one sound of nature that would have the power to bring me back to all those memories and make me long for the days of my childhood innocence is the sound of the cicadas. This long and increasingly powerful crescendo heard on warm summer days, reminding us that summer will soon come to an end. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 20pt;">A busy life, my mind racing a hundred miles an hour, making me unable to stop and appreciate the present moment. Even if the present is not quite what I wish it was. Running away from the present, longing for a past that no longer is or could never be, and worrying about what the future holds. The power this harmless insect has on my subconscious with its lament, bringing me to revisit the past with such intensity. A past I can’t change. A past I can’t go back to. A past I must draw lessons from to fuel the energy to better my future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-63303779477119145062019-01-04T20:00:00.005-05:002021-04-29T18:25:47.513-04:00La table de cuisine<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-caps: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Table</span></i><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-variant-caps: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">: Nom commun, féminin. </span></i><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-style: inherit;"><i>Meuble sur pieds offrant une surface plane et destiné à un usage déterminé.</i></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Couchée béatement sur le dos sur la table de cuisine, alors que ma mère me changeait de couche: voici mon tout premier souvenir, d'aussi loin que ma mémoire me permette de remonter dans l'échelle du temps. Âgée tout au plus de deux ans? Je me souviens de la boîte jaune à mes côtés, affichant l'image d'un beignet sur une de ses façades. Je crois bien qu'il s'agissait de fécule de maïs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">J'ai grandi au sein d'une famille canadienne française bien typique. Nous prenions place autour de la table de cuisine à chaque jour et avions l'habitude de flâner après le souper. Nous n'étions que rarement pressés de nous lever pour nettoyer. La vieille table ronde en érable à pied central (la même table à laquelle mon père avait pris place en grandissant) était l'endroit de prédilection pour entendre mon père nous raconter ses histoires drôles -et parfois moins drôles- de son jeune temps dans la campagne des années 40, sur la rive-sud de Québec. On entendait toujours les mêmes histoires, avec les mêmes personnages, mais nous ne nous en lassions jamais. Le grand conteur qu'était mon père arrivait à nous faire rire aux larmes, ajoutant chaque fois de plus en plus de détails à ses histoires. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">J'ai vraiment cru, du temps de mes études primaires, avoir été en proie à un traitement injuste et avoir enduré des abus totalement non justifiés, assise à cette même table: après chaque jour d'école, ma mère me faisait faire des travaux supplémentaires en mathématique et en analyse grammaticale; elle ne faisait pas confiance au système scolaire québécois des années 70 et j'en ai payé le prix. Je lui dois mon plaisir à valser avec la langue de Molière et la maîtrise des tables de multiplication dès mon jeune âge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JwALpoWfqwE0jITPV1mwUENzDhlqB71qXrtK4OuGQr1MDixxg5Y0fw9P-WZhy3th9F-CcatTeJp8yqbVJy3vFly3RhVLy0jpSa73visVXFWdFakaQXrzCPT9KazGtvVEtnstsas_9w/s1600/IMG_3766.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JwALpoWfqwE0jITPV1mwUENzDhlqB71qXrtK4OuGQr1MDixxg5Y0fw9P-WZhy3th9F-CcatTeJp8yqbVJy3vFly3RhVLy0jpSa73visVXFWdFakaQXrzCPT9KazGtvVEtnstsas_9w/s320/IMG_3766.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Le temps est un jour venu de quitter le nid familial pour poursuivre mes études à l'extérieur. J'ai vécu dans une dizaine d'appartements différents, parfois avec des co-locataires, parfois seule. Mais d'une façon ou d'une autre, ma contribution au ménage était toujours la table de cuisine. Avec des chaises si on était assez chanceux. Des chaises achetées pour peu cher. M'accommodant d'abord d'une vieille table en bois ronde et laide avec quatre pattes, achetée dans une ressourcerie pour $10, je me suis ensuite ''gâtée'' chez IKEA: un plateau de table rectangulaire blanc monté sur quatre pattes en métal vissées. Enfin le ''style contemporain''! Comme j'étais fière. Je me souviens avoir dû quémander l'aide d'un ami avec sa perceuse puisque je n'y arrivais pas avec mon tournevis d'occasion. C'est à cette table que j'ai rédigé mes premiers bulletins en tant qu'enseignante. J'ai échangé bien des confidences à cette table en buvant du café. Mes amies et moi nous sommes fait d'innombrables petits soupers accompagnés de vin acheté au dépanneur du coin. Si cette table pouvait parler...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Puis ''je'' a fait place à ''nous'' quand Michael et moi nous sommes rencontrés et avons emménagé ensemble sur un coup de tête. Je ne recommanderais ceci à personne en passant, surtout pas à mes enfants: apprendre à se connaître en jouant à la maison n'est pas l'idée du siècle. L'heure avait sonné d'apprendre à mettre de l'eau dans mon vin. Je dois admettre que je n'ai jamais été la championne des compromis, pas même maintenant. En fait, je crois être de plus en plus intransigeante avec l'âge. Ce qui m'a tout de même rendu service à bien des occasions. Mais pour en revenir à la table, nous avons convenu de l'utiliser comme espace bureau. En toute honnêteté, le gars est arrivé avec une bien plus belle table: je me suis retrouvée assise à une table ronde à pied central. Cette pièce en bouleau de chez Bass River lui avait été donnée par ses parents. J'ai même pris le temps de lui refaire une beauté pour effacer ses années passées dans un appartement de gars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">On a eu du bon temps assis à cette table: avant les enfants, on avait coutume des jouer au Skip-Bo pendant des heures après le boulot le vendredi, en fumant un paquet de cigarettes. C'est à cette table que j'ai eu mes premières nausées (oui, j'ai cessé de fumer après avoir pissé sur le petit bâton), puis un jour la table est devenue trop petite pour notre famille bourgeonnante. Et nos ardeurs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Nous avons fait le grand saut lors d'une mutation de Ottawa à Valcartier en achetant la plus grande table disponible chez IKEA: modèle Norden, 87 pouces de bouleau messieurs dames, avec une rallonge de 20 pouces par-dessus le marché. Nous n'en verrions sûrement jamais le bout! Et voilà, papa, maman et deux enfants, avec une troisième peu après assise au bout de la table dans son siège de bébé, à se dire qu'on avait vu un peu grand. Une table bien trop grande pour notre logement militaire, égale à nos ambitions. Durant notre séjour de trois ans à Valcartier, notre maison est devenue le lieu des rencontres familiales durant les Fêtes. Au quotidien, avec la famille sous l'effet popcorn, la table servait de lieu pour devoirs-pliage-couture-bricolage-station de premiers soins, alors que le dessous devenait tour à tour une maisonnette ou un autobus. Ils se sont tous frappés la caboche sur les coins, un rite de passage, et ont tous survécu avec peu de séquelles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">Mon défunt père et mon aînée, Rose</span></td></tr>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">Quelques années plus tard, notre famille de 11 s'est agrandie suite aux greffes de foie avec Kris joignant nos rangs, et la présence fréquente d'amis fidèles toujours prêts à partager un repas avec nous, pour notre plus grand plaisir. J'aime quand mes amis se sentent bien dans ma maison. Je suis retournée sur le marché du travail il y a quelques années, et j'ai la chance de travailler de la maison, en prenant toujours soin d'empiler mes papiers à un bout de la table. Oui, je suis du genre à m'étaler dans mon désordre de paperasse. En conséquence, moi, la reine du foyer, me suis retrouvée à manger debout plus souvent qu'autrement. Cette situation ne perdurerait pas en 2018. Maintenant que je récoltais un salaire, j'ai décidé, en dépit du front de résistance familiale, d'acheter une nouvelle table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">Ce monstre en érable, couleur d'ébène, d'une longueur de 96 pouces (144 pouces incluant les quatre rallonges) fit son entrée. Cette table allait nous achever, comme un mauvais sort jeté sur notre famille. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;">Notre famille est passée au travers bien des écueils en 2018. Et comme j'ai tendance à être un tantinet irrationnelle, aussi bien blâmer la table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">A peine janvier entamé, ma fille de 16 ans a fiché le camp suite à une chicane entre elle et moi. Voilà: la grosse table de cuisine à moitié vide me faisait le doigt d'honneur, en me rappelant jusqu'à quel point je peux être intransigeante. La nouvelle liberté de ma chère fille est vite devenue un fardeau pour elle, surtout quand les fonds se sont épuisés et que les ''amis'' ont insisté qu'il y avait des règles à respecter, tout comme chez papa et maman. Elle a trouvé refuge chez mon amie, le temps que nous lavions notre linge sale... Je remercie mon amie d'avoir joué le rôle de maison de transition pour quelques semaines! Ma fille est revenue à la maison un certain soir, après qu'on l'ait presque perdue des suites d'une réaction anaphylactique causée par une infusion de Remicade pour son arthrite. Même si en surface la situation a eu l'air de s'être replacée, les choses ne sont jamais revenues comme auparavant. Des relations entre frères et soeurs, une fois brisées, peuvent prendre ce qui peut sembler comme une éternité à guérir. Et je sais de quoi je parle. Ma fille est ressortie grandie de cette expérience et a appris à faire des meilleurs choix. Mais quand le train déraille, on ne peut l'arrêter. Mon aînée est partie étudier au collège avec comme focus principal d'avoir son espace bien à elle. ''C'est normal'' me direz-vous. Oui, jusqu'à un certain point. Je ne me suis jamais préparée à voir mon nid se vider. Le syndrome du nid vide.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Paradoxal quand je pense à quel point je suis découragée que les plus jeunes n'auront que huit ans en mai. Il y a de ces jours où je voudrai</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">s les avoir encore tous à la maison, et il y en a d'autres où je ne vois pas la lumière au bout du tunnel.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;">Je crois sincèrement avoir pleuré ch</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">aque jour en 2018. Pleurer me soulage. Je pleure encore la mort de mon père il y a presque quatre ans et je tente d'accepter la perte de la mère que j'ai connue. De longs au revoir.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Je préfère vivre mes émotions seule. Je visite ma mère régulièrement seule, à six heures de route de chez moi. Je visite mon père au mausolée, seule. J'ai besoin de moi plus que jamais, de ramasser mes morceaux éparpillés à force d'avoir été une bonne mère et une bonne partenaire pendant toutes ces années. Je veux me reconstruire. Qui suis-je donc au fait?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Cette nouvelle table est comme une épine au pied, un constant rappel que ma famille et mes relations avec plusieurs sont brisées ou du moins changées. J'avais beaucoup d'espoir en achetant cette table: l'espoir d'y voir rassemblés mes enfants et leurs partenaires, leurs enfants, tandis que mon meilleur ami et moi vieillissons ensemble.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Rien n'est certain en ce bas monde. Les gens sont en constante mutation et les circonstances de la vie ont un impact sur notre façon de se percevoir et de voir les autres. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Devrais-je vendre la table? Est-ce que ce serait la solution à tous nos problèmes? Je n'ai pas la réponse. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Mon aînée est venue nous voir la veille de Noël. J'ai pu la serrer dans mes bras et la voir rire avec ses soeurs. Tous mes enfants sous un même toit et personne ne s'est opposé à ma demande de prendre une photo de famille. Kris n'y étant pas, la photo semble incomplète. Ma nouvelle amie, ma voisine, ma soeur a pris la photo pour nous et je l'en remercie. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Je tourne le dos à 2018 avec grand plaisir. Je demande à 2019 de m'aider à réparer ce qui peut être réparé. A chacun de vous qui devez prendre soin d'un être cher qui est soit malade ou dans le besoin, je souhaite le courage et la force de persévérer. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-size: medium; text-align: center;">A chacun et chacune de vous, je souhaite une année 2019 remplie de succès: veillez à conserver ce qui vous est cher, et trouvez la force d'aller chercher ce qui enrichira votre existence. Répandez le bien autour de vous et évitez la haine à tout prix.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_O0rc1AiLr2acqwbv9n2C4Emy1aM0aSXQ6gsNPBOtkHdU8xPLpY2RWRBZ6E53AXOlWj7llTqyVDsjLXpenmms5K-hUsubxFRDutVu4ERmAsIQ3PtLqaaaFegVWnrT53QK_iKAKbz6Q/s1600/IMG_1481.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_O0rc1AiLr2acqwbv9n2C4Emy1aM0aSXQ6gsNPBOtkHdU8xPLpY2RWRBZ6E53AXOlWj7llTqyVDsjLXpenmms5K-hUsubxFRDutVu4ERmAsIQ3PtLqaaaFegVWnrT53QK_iKAKbz6Q/s640/IMG_1481.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i style="font-family: cambria;">En passant, j'ai dû </i><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="font-family: calibri;"><i>commencer</i></span><i style="font-family: cambria;"> à jouer un nouveau rôle en 2018 auprès de ma mère qui est atteinte de la maladie d'Alzheimer. Les rôles inversés? Le</i><span style="font-family: "cambria";"><i>s</i></span><i style="font-family: cambria;"> tables de multiplication n'ont plus aucune importance pour elle, et puisqu'elle n'est plus en mesure d'écrire, la grammaire est passée aux oubliettes. Nous avons dû prendre la décision de la déménager dans une aile plus adaptée à ses besoins sans cesse grandissants. </i><span style="font-family: "cambria";"><i>Malheureusement</i></span><i style="font-family: cambria;"> la vieille table familiale était trop grande pour l'espace restreint. Soucieuse de lui offrir un nouvel endroit qui demeurerait tout de même </i><span style="font-family: "cambria";"><i>familier, je lui ai acheté une table usagée à pied central, plus petite. Un ami au grand coeur l'a réparée pour nous.</i></span><i style="font-family: cambria;"> Je doute que ma mère se soit vraiment rendu compte du changement. La table familiale de ma jeunesse est désormais dans mon garage, en attente d'être assemblée de nouveau pour partager les souvenirs heureux qu'elle cache en elle.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Nous sommes </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/twinsforhope/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Twins for Hope</span></a><span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">, un organisme à but non lucratif qui s'est engagé à venir en aide aux enfants et familles dans le besoin au Viet Nam. Notre but principal est de les aider à gagner accès aux besoins de base de la vie quotidienne: éducation, abri, soins de santé, tous menant vers la dignité humaine.</span><span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"> Nous accepterons volontiers vos dons via </span><a href="https://www.paypal.me/TwinsforHopeCANADA"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Paypal</span></a><span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><span style="font-family: , serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Merci de suivre nos aventures!</span><span style="font-family: , serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-80420920611872371142019-01-01T14:05:00.001-05:002019-01-04T21:45:17.860-05:00The Kitchen Table<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "calibri";"><b>Table</b></span></i><i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "calibri";"><b>: Noun. A piece of furniture having a smooth flat top that is usually supported by one or more vertical legs.</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">My very first memory, as far back as I can humanly remember, consists of me laying down on my back on the kitchen table, oblivious, as my mother was changing my diaper. I could not have been older than 2. I remember there was by my side a yellow box with the picture of a donut on it. My guess is that it was cornstarch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">I come from a typical French Canadian family. We would sit around the table to eat dinner and stay seated for a long time, well after the meal was over. There was no rush to get up and clean up. The old round pedestal maple table (the very same table my father sat at growing up) is where we would listen to my dad telling us funny -and sometimes not so funny- anecdotes from his days growing up in the 1940s in the countryside. We heard the same tales over and over, the same people mentioned, and never got tired of his funny stories. Dad was a good storyteller and could make us shed tears of laughter, adding more and more details each time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">I genuinely believed, going through elementary school, that I did endure unfair treatment and unjustified hardship sitting at that table: mom would make me go through countless hours of extra grammatical analysis exercises and arithmetic every single school day; she doubted the efficiency of the school system in Quebec in the 70s and I paid the price. I owe her my ability to write somewhat properly, and the fact that I mastered my times tables at quite an early age. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;"><i>On a side note, 2018 saw me play a new role with my mother who suffers from Alzheimer’s. Reversed roles maybe? Times tables became totally irrelevant and grammar belongs to a distant past as she no longer can write. We had to relocate her to a new floor, more adapted to her ever growing needs and the old family table could not fit in the new location. In an effort to keep things as familiar as possible for her, I purchased second hand a smaller round pedestal table. A kind friend of ours refinished it for me. I doubt my mother even noticed the change.</i></span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18.66666603088379px;"><i> The family table from my youth is now in my garage, waiting to be set up again to reveal its happy tales.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JwALpoWfqwE0jITPV1mwUENzDhlqB71qXrtK4OuGQr1MDixxg5Y0fw9P-WZhy3th9F-CcatTeJp8yqbVJy3vFly3RhVLy0jpSa73visVXFWdFakaQXrzCPT9KazGtvVEtnstsas_9w/s1600/IMG_3766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JwALpoWfqwE0jITPV1mwUENzDhlqB71qXrtK4OuGQr1MDixxg5Y0fw9P-WZhy3th9F-CcatTeJp8yqbVJy3vFly3RhVLy0jpSa73visVXFWdFakaQXrzCPT9KazGtvVEtnstsas_9w/s320/IMG_3766.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Fast forward a few years, I moved out of my parents’ home, lived in about ten different apartments with various roommates or on my own. Somehow, I was almost always the kitchen table provider. It was my contribution to the pot. With chairs if we were lucky. Chairs I would get wherever I could get for cheap. I went from owning a used round four-legged ugly wooden table, salvaged from some used store for no more than $10, to being the ''proud owner'' of a white rectangular IKEA top with four screw-in style metal legs. I felt stylish. I remember my dear friend who kindly helped me screw the legs in securely with a power drill, as my cheap screwdriver could not do the trick. I was proud and happy with my modest purchase. I wrote my first report cards as a teacher at that table. I shared many secrets over coffee at that table. My girlfriends and I had a lot of dinners with cheap wine at that table. If that table could speak…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Then ‘’I’’ became ‘‘we’’ when Michael and I met and moved in together on a whim. I would never advise my children to do this: not a good idea to learn to know each other playing house. The time had come for me to put water in my wine. I will admit I never was really good at that, not even today. I actually believe I am becoming worse with age. It has served me well in some instances though. Back to the table, I agreed with Michael and it became a work/computer space. In all honesty, the table the man came with was a lot nicer: back to a round pedestal table I found myself sitting at. His parents had given this birch Bass River beauty to him. I even refinished it with much love and care. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">We had happy moments at that table: prior to having kids we would play Skip-Bo for hours after work on Friday nights, while smoking a pack of cigarettes. I had my first morning sickness bouts sitting at that table (yes, I did quit smoking after peeing on the stick), until the table became too small for our growing family. And for our aspirations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">We bit the bullet while being posted from Ottawa to Valcartier and bought the biggest table we could find at IKEA: birch Norden, 87 inches long (107 inches with extension). Never would we be able to outgrow that bad boy! There we were, four of us and soon after baby Grace in tow in a baby seat at the end of the table, thinking we had seen a bit too big. The table was oversized for our small PMQ but we had big ambitions I guess. While in Valcartier and living close to my extended family, our house became party central during the Holidays. On regular days as the family grew bigger and bigger, our table dutifully became a homework/folding/sewing/craft/medical care station while underneath often turned into a house or a school bus. All the kids wacked their head on the corners, like a rite of passage, one after the other. They all survived with minimal damage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hop on the bus!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My late father and Rose, my eldest.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Fast forward a few years, our family of 11 turned into a family of 12 post liver transplants with Kris joining the ranks, and friends of the family always showing a keen interest in joining us to share a meal, to our greatest delight. I love when people are comfortable in my house. I reintegrated the workforce a few years back with the luxury of working from home, always cluttering one end of the table with paperwork. Yes, I am a clutter bug when it comes to paper. As a result, I, the matriarch, found myself eating standing up 9 times out of 10. This somewhat uncomfortable and frustrating situation would change in 2018. Now that I earned money, I decided, against everyone in the family, to buy a new table. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">This ebony wormy maple monster of a table, 96 inches long with a potential of 144 inches with extensions moved in. It would become my demise. A curse on my family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Our family went through drastic changes in 2018. And being the irrational person I can be, might as well blame it on the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">As soon as January hit, my then 16-year-old daughter moved out on us following a fight with me. There you go: the big table was there, in my kitchen, half empty and giving me the finger, telling me how bad of a hard a$$ I can be. My daughter’s newly found freedom grew old after a while when money dried out and ''friends'' proved to be like mom and dad, i.e. living by some rules, and she found refuge at my friend’s place until we could sort things out. Thanks for my friend who played the role of buffer for a few weeks. We took her back home the night after she had nearly died in the morning from an anaphylactic shock caused by a Remicade infusion for her arthritis. However looking normal on the surface, things never returned to what they used to be. I never could manage to have everyone sit around the table. Relationships between siblings, once broken can be severed for a long time. I speak with authority here. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">My daughter has grown from this experience and is doing very well for herself now. But it seems like when the train starts derailing it won't stop. Her oldest sister moved out to attend college and to find her own space. ‘’It’s normal’’ you’ll say. Yes, to some extend. However, I was never prepared for the empty nest to start pointing its nose. Empty nest syndrome, quite a paradox, considering I get so discouraged when I think our two youngest will only turn 8 in May. Some days I would like them all to be home, other days I can’t see the light at the end of this long parenting tunnel. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">I honestly believe I have cried on every single day in 2018. Shedding tears feels good. I am still grieving the loss of my father almost four years ago and am trying to accept the loss of the mother I used to know. These will have been long goodbyes. I prefer to do this on my own. I go visit my dad at the mausoleum on my own and I go care for my mother regularly six hours away on my own. I have never needed so much ‘’me’’ time as I do now, perhaps because I feel I lost myself over time being a good partner and a good mother? I need to gather my own pieces, scattered everywhere. I need to reconstruct my own person. Who am I? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">This new table is the pain of my existence it seems, a constant reminder that my family and my relationship with others have changed or are broken. I had great expectations when I purchased it, hopes to see it someday filled with my kids, their significant others and grandchildren, growing old with my best friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Nothing is ever certain in life. People change, circumstances affect the way you see yourself and others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">Should I put the monster table up for sale? Would it solve everything? I have no answer to this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;">My oldest daughter came home on Christmas eve. I got to hold her in my arms and see her joke around with her sisters. All of my nine kids were gathered and no one moaned when I asked for an updated family picture. Kris being away, the picture seems incomplete. My newly found neighbour/friend/sister took the picture for us and I thank her for this. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18.66666603088379px;">I am turning the page on 2018 without any regrets. I wish for 2019 to fix what is broken, in whatever way it sees fit.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 18.66666603088379px;"> I wish everyone of you caring for a loved one who is in need or sick the strength to keep doing so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;">To everyone of you, I wish a prosperous 2019: work on keeping what you already have that is dear to you, and find the strength to obtain what will enrich your living experience. Spread goodness around you and avoid hatred at all cost.</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">We are </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/twinsforhope/"><b><span style="color: blue; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Twins for Hope</span></b></a><b><span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">, </span></b><span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">a not for profit committed to helping children and families in need in Vietnam gain access to the very basic necessities of life: education, shelter, health care, human dignity. We will gladly accept your generous donations through </span><a href="https://www.paypal.me/TwinsforHopeCANADA"><b><span style="color: blue; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Paypal</span></b></a><span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><span style="font-family: , serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Thank you for following us!</span><span style="font-family: , serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-8764774360210830132018-08-26T21:45:00.002-04:002018-08-26T21:45:25.182-04:00On Fighting Poverty...Back in the fall of 2010, I had the honour of meeting Mr. Gem Munro, co-founder of the Amarok Society ( <a href="http://amaroksociety.org/wordpress/">http://amaroksociety.org/wordpress/</a> ), while he was promoting his organization by selling his latest book at a local bookstore. Mr. Munro had a positive and lasting impression on me. While keeping the wellbeing of their family of four children at the centre of their preoccupations, Mr. Munro and his wife Dr Tanyss Munro ''selfishlessly'' moved their family to the slums of Dhaka Bangladesh to go empower the poorest of the poor: teaching women who in turn would transmit their newly acquired knowledge to the children around them. The Munro children grew up imbibing a social conscience and responsibility and are now very involved with the Amarok Society and its operations.<br />
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Fighting poverty through education is no new concept and has in fact been discussed by many scholars. It is a well established fact that poverty and lack of education are inevitably linked in a vicious circle: one living in poverty will be forced to work instead of going to school, being left without the literacy and numeracy skills needed to pursue a career. To this simple explanation can be added cultural and political elements that can be debated or challenged less efficiently with less education.<br />
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In this era of globalization, we must wonder why something we so take for granted, the accessibility and the right to education is still so difficult to access in some parts of the planet.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b style="color: red;">Paying it Forward </b>is the motto of o</span>ur not for profit organization, <b>Twins for Hope</b>. Since its creation in 2016, we have been concentrating our efforts in Vietnam through various missions supporting vulnerable children. In early 2018 we were presented the opportunity to work with partners to improve the learning conditions for 50 children in Binh Thuan province, south of the country: the total cost of the project covered by <b>Twins for Hope</b> is $15,000 CAD ($11,500 USD).<br />
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I can testify that fundraising has never been for the faint of heart. It has involved countless hours of ''professional begging'' on my part and several days away from my family to attend craft fairs and events: focusing on the needs of others in dire situations keeps me afloat and energized, and less self-self-centered. And when helped by my solid team of volunteers, it makes it all better!<br />
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I will be leaving for Vietnam in a few weeks to go attend the opening ceremony of <b>our school</b>. I still have to pinch myself as this is all too unreal.<br />
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We have raised so far close to $3000. <b style="color: magenta;">$12,000 </b>are still<b style="color: magenta;"> needed </b>to meet our goal.<br />
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For further details on the project, please follow one of the two links below: please <b style="color: orange;">share </b>and consider making a <b style="color: orange;">donation</b>. Every dollar goes far in fighting poverty through education: there is no better investment.<br />
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Thank you,<br />
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Johanne Wagner<br />
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<a href="https://fundrazr.com/frombambootobrick?ref=ab_37HsL8">https://fundrazr.com/frombambootobrick?ref=ab_37HsL8</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.gofundme.com/manage/from-bamboo-to-brick-a-new-school">https://www.gofundme.com/manage/from-bamboo-to-brick-a-new-school</a><br />
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<br />Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-46655676326954264722017-08-30T21:25:00.002-04:002017-08-31T15:06:15.925-04:00Alagille, Noonan, and then JIA...<div style="color: #1d2129; font-family: 'SF Optimized', system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, '.SFNSText-Regular', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; letter-spacing: -0.11999999731779099px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
When you think of arthritis, what comes to mind is something that afflicts older people. A natural part of the aging process I guess. My father had polio at a very young age and I grew up hearing about how sore he always was: ''my arthritis'' he would say, rubbing Tiger Balm or having my mom apply a sore muscle patch on his back! I can close my eyes and still remember the smell... He claimed he could predict the weather forecast through his body. Having suffered from migraines until childbirth, I can actually believe our body senses the changes in barometric pressure.</div>
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My Dear Daughter was a late walker and I remember well her grand-papa being worried because she never crawled on her knees. When she did decide to move, it was commando style crawling. We used to jokingly say she was lazy: she would sit on the floor, point at things and her sweet sister, older by 17 months, would service her complacently. She was the child who would go to her bedroom right after lunch, and sleep until 4h00 pm. And that much sleep never affected her bedtime routine. She was the easiest child. Looking back now, I am wondering if she did not live with pain much before she started complaining. We will never know. </div>
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It's at the age of about 8 or 9 that she started to complain of knee pain on a regular basis, which we unfortunately mistakingly took for growing pain. And then she went through quite a growth spurt at the end of elementary school. She used to be quite active, but would constantly complain.</div>
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It took a bad turn during the summer when she was 12: I remember her being unable to move or go up the stairs. Dear Daughter having a tendency to be a wee bit dramatic, we thought at first she was acting up. It became clear she was not. After a quick visit to the paediatric orthopedist and blood work, we were quickly referred to a paediatric rheumatologist. They first suspected Lyme disease, then lupus, mentioned fibromyalgia... What we did not know is that she had experienced her first flare.</div>
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We ended up seeing a rheumatologist in Kingston on a regular basis. Two years later, after many visits, blood work on various occasions, and a MRI, the diagnosis of Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA) with Ankylosing Spondylitis (AS) was confirmed. It's not easy when you're 15 to see your dreams shatter. It hurts when you're 15 and you just got a diagnosis and you're crying, to see your so called friends dismiss you and think you are just trying to get attention. It's hard when you're 15 to be made fun of because all your joints are swollen and you can't move like others. It's hard to be 15 with a disease you can't forget because it hurts constantly. It consumes you, you become angry and you can't think clearly. And yes, you make mistakes.</div>
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After the process of elimination going through a course of Naproxen, then Celebrex which both did nothing, we moved on to biologics drugs with etanercept. This was not a decision we took lightly, as the risks and side effects can be quite scary.</div>
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My brave girl learned to self inject (that took courage) and did so for 8 months, with no results and inflammation creeping up into every single joint of her body.</div>
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The specialist came to the conclusion, after another MRI that the medication had done nothing to keep the inflammation at bay, and that in fact we were losing ground...</div>
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Today, my brave girl started IV infusions of infliximab. Those 2 to 3 hour long sessions are to take place every couple weeks initially, to hopefully end up at 8 weeks intervals, for as long as we can think...</div>
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We put a lot of hopes in this treatment. I want to see my girl shine and able to be herself. I wish to see this disease and the deterioration of her body kept at bay so her dreams may come true. So she can keep playing guitar, drawing, and doing the amazing things she has in mind for the future.</div>
Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-50377991733791015132017-08-29T15:11:00.002-04:002017-08-30T22:02:12.845-04:00Losing Your AuthorityWhile my thirties and early forties were all about creating a family, I always had the distinct feeling those happy moments would be replaced by less happy ones further on. I was anticipating my fifties would surely be marked by the loss of my parents. It happened before, sadly.<br />
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Dad passed away 2 years ago, weeks after the transplants ordeal was over. I felt I had been hit by an eighteen wheeler, miraculously surviving, to finally be able to get up and stand on my feet to be hit a second time around, in complete dizzyness. Some days, it still feels like I am trying to pick myself up.<br />
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Dad and I sure have our history of disagreements and tumult. You can't undo the past, I found it the hard way. You can't unsay what you've said, you can't unhear what was said to you. However, I can always find comfort in the fact that the apple did not fall far from the tree. Two very opinionated people, one standing on the right, one standing on the left, you can only expect clashing to happen. As dementia took a hold of him, it became boring as him and I would not even argue over politics anymore. He just lost interest in everything. Dementia stole my dad away from me. But it never took away his love for me. As he became more and more affected by the illness, I saw this vulnerable man replace the man I used to fear. The man whose phone calls at supper time (to dictate me how to raise his grandchildren he loved so much...!) I would avoid with exasperation as I was busy with so much happening. I met a new person in his last years of life. I met a man who would develop unconditional love for his adopted grandchildren. It was never a concern with my biological children. But dad took me by surprise, letting his guards and prejudice down to see the beauty of children in need.<br />
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I miss his phone calls. I miss hearing him telling me how proud he was of me, how I reminded him of his own mother. I used to dismiss him and roll my eyes in silence. All that is left are the memories now. Our last phone call was two days before his passing. Binh was still in hospital receiving blood transfusions, while he was as well receiving transfusions 9 hours away. I told him she was fine, and I know he understood. I assured him I would always be there for his grandkids, and I know it comforted him. I told him I loved him, and he returned the same to me. And I knew this was our last conversation.<br />
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My mother survived him and is now by herself, fighting the demons of dementia as well. I feel horrible living far away. I feel guilty not being there more for her. I feel caught between my duty as a mom and my duty as a daughter. We talk every single day. The conversation always goes the same way. But somehow, it seems new to her. I keep things simple. Because it is the way it has to be. I have no immediate family anymore. No one who saw me growing up I can talk to about the real things. About my worries. About my accomplishments. About childhood memories, good and not so good.<br />
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I have no one to fear anymore. I lost all my figures of authority.Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-84948989594105782952017-08-19T21:09:00.003-04:002019-01-04T20:17:56.313-05:00Twins for Hope - June 2017 Mission (Part 2)<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Following the visit to the leper colony, Mai and I made our way to Pleiku airport to catch a plane to Da Nang, a flight of a duration of about 1 hour.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">With a population of 1,4 million, <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Da Nang is a coastal city in central Vietnam known for its sandy beaches and history as a French colonial port.</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"> The local population is very proud of the infrastructure of the city. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">It is always a pleasure to go back to my favorite hotel, the Sofia Boutique Hotel. Clean and affordable, this establishment is renowned for the friendliness of its staff who is always making everything they can to make you feel at home. My friend Vivian, who is the manager, is a strong collaborator of mine and is my way in to go visit people in the community and in the local hospitals.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">After securing a motorbike for the duration of our stay, we went to purchase notebooks, pencils and milk to bring over to 20 children in a local hospital cancer ward, along with toothpaste, toothbrushes and pain medication brought over from Canada.</span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">It took a bit of effort and negotiation to have access to the cancer ward... and once we got there, we realized there were only 7 children left: some had been discharged, while others sadly did not make it. The children who are still there were happy to receive their little care package.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8jVZQrBxd41tjn_vD0CoWf74c_eWIyrsmVxEHATamCNeJOkeBbH3d21hOlim9s2ZhTcTO_Nu8mFYb8yKElM7ADFzhFNXRMZfJMFDW_Nnotv4tFnlL0B95jqp_fgYQC2wD8-Jrk7KLw/s1600/IMG_7272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8jVZQrBxd41tjn_vD0CoWf74c_eWIyrsmVxEHATamCNeJOkeBbH3d21hOlim9s2ZhTcTO_Nu8mFYb8yKElM7ADFzhFNXRMZfJMFDW_Nnotv4tFnlL0B95jqp_fgYQC2wD8-Jrk7KLw/s320/IMG_7272.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK3cadQpWyGd3dCrwxJm6cvLozjVfEBI4IVssG0n0xtOofJCf2yOQbGX1neIXE5mw07BBnBZlVZNAD3RYGtOpj7mT2_P27sWmj1XRdPTH_FGJQ2GaNeljljeCejvDH3_tmxexFFoDGqA/s1600/IMG_7274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK3cadQpWyGd3dCrwxJm6cvLozjVfEBI4IVssG0n0xtOofJCf2yOQbGX1neIXE5mw07BBnBZlVZNAD3RYGtOpj7mT2_P27sWmj1XRdPTH_FGJQ2GaNeljljeCejvDH3_tmxexFFoDGqA/s320/IMG_7274.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqdUKc0mD2Gm_G3PzsFC6lnFOeeRpfHpZGVZXATdmcUuzsBHwoQIVAR3lK2UaKZQ3bErqh1Ahu77anQ5bL2c6ctqZUombiyHhapUKfPy7iAtt6gi1ktY5AKx5qvl5Rta0i0k1dnQ3Wg/s1600/IMG_7275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqdUKc0mD2Gm_G3PzsFC6lnFOeeRpfHpZGVZXATdmcUuzsBHwoQIVAR3lK2UaKZQ3bErqh1Ahu77anQ5bL2c6ctqZUombiyHhapUKfPy7iAtt6gi1ktY5AKx5qvl5Rta0i0k1dnQ3Wg/s320/IMG_7275.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQgVkPuEipyOFecr-fCqkWFDKM-T2W0zKFS5Q2pjLdlatvCZF8hjSUEuWyX3sd4RDMSGW5LWYzBMMzli9wGMF5lCRbj-NXK42NN0eqKmFHuZt2LInQ9B6YxuGFinXtAyhS0-_JpN3cA/s1600/IMG_7236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQgVkPuEipyOFecr-fCqkWFDKM-T2W0zKFS5Q2pjLdlatvCZF8hjSUEuWyX3sd4RDMSGW5LWYzBMMzli9wGMF5lCRbj-NXK42NN0eqKmFHuZt2LInQ9B6YxuGFinXtAyhS0-_JpN3cA/s320/IMG_7236.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQuKQBvHmf5CObQAFM7Sj5BXNxW7z7TfLBuB0M4ANg62xt1cDTVyvRXiqUsXX8N_sTG1cWDciiFzBUMqpeboOf9NSMZcPBMyw4JpviSRDNRLfJY-wV2oHVPB6yKXGDXjzq9wcFluL7g/s1600/IMG_7237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQuKQBvHmf5CObQAFM7Sj5BXNxW7z7TfLBuB0M4ANg62xt1cDTVyvRXiqUsXX8N_sTG1cWDciiFzBUMqpeboOf9NSMZcPBMyw4JpviSRDNRLfJY-wV2oHVPB6yKXGDXjzq9wcFluL7g/s200/IMG_7237.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtEP75YS9ogV6clI6g8YFhFxIlsdCQtXdlOgg8IWqOJYAX3ea_hM-NTqiKKCtzEtBLXNytqxjRiayx0LhsEtUccQ6Uvlodgyp9S1BAchQuXamzu6rjX9Agqwv6yiSehsxhfLhJbvImWg/s1600/IMG_7238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtEP75YS9ogV6clI6g8YFhFxIlsdCQtXdlOgg8IWqOJYAX3ea_hM-NTqiKKCtzEtBLXNytqxjRiayx0LhsEtUccQ6Uvlodgyp9S1BAchQuXamzu6rjX9Agqwv6yiSehsxhfLhJbvImWg/s200/IMG_7238.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikk3-T2eifDTfrtRT8-zDYIGsnCg4E_5uojIEHEDDm1Du-vq_Sg-8mjiMr2m0Kq7zF1xzKicKCYgUej29j747qvLxmrCaZazxk389Mq72AZjVEVwY7QLXh-1Gu7Arc_GXQXVRYShMImQ/s1600/IMG_7239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikk3-T2eifDTfrtRT8-zDYIGsnCg4E_5uojIEHEDDm1Du-vq_Sg-8mjiMr2m0Kq7zF1xzKicKCYgUej29j747qvLxmrCaZazxk389Mq72AZjVEVwY7QLXh-1Gu7Arc_GXQXVRYShMImQ/s200/IMG_7239.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mai and I left the hospital feeling somewhat defeated: having the best intentions in the world is not enough. It takes a lot of guts and persuasion to do what we do. You need to believe in what you do to find the strength to cross the roadblocks that constantly seem to be in your way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The next day saw us making our way to the Red Cross Vocational centre where we purchased our incense sticks last December. We placed an order for 50 kg of rice to be delivered on site and got there at the same time as the delivery guy. We sat with the director of the centre and his assistant and went over what Twins for Hope does and how we have been operating. The director gave us a tour of the facilities and was interested by our plans of bringing over Canadian professionals from different fields. Véronique (chair of the Board) and myself also have the intention of providing information on fertility awareness to the various centres we support, and Red Cross Danang showed interest in our project. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sixty youth with disabilities stay at the centre where they learn to make embroidery, purses, incense, silk flowers and printing. Twins for Hope will import in Canada some of their beautiful purses to sell for fundraising purposes.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjEs5f8fvhtEKwOZR__V1MfsCvZsX8K7vXV96pAVXDfNSyJ5_P-1YG4zyir-1EhfmhrzZPZSfAwZy6o_UPeVYCTLgZhVgzpfjmJBJny2npYfwrikFenoxq9M2Xzndi2YGqoaxgT1KDQ/s1600/IMG_7244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjEs5f8fvhtEKwOZR__V1MfsCvZsX8K7vXV96pAVXDfNSyJ5_P-1YG4zyir-1EhfmhrzZPZSfAwZy6o_UPeVYCTLgZhVgzpfjmJBJny2npYfwrikFenoxq9M2Xzndi2YGqoaxgT1KDQ/s200/IMG_7244.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0tQiZPcUMfLPWS80y00F7IUgkFz4NkeY27uUO3O918UYkUj1nFyICPeL-DrRsoWeBORn6A5FPN1nCQIXjeTdinv2aNcXOjDn5oBx-5WqusqJebM19icjKDP53x44C6P5YjOBdOO2MWg/s1600/IMG_7248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0tQiZPcUMfLPWS80y00F7IUgkFz4NkeY27uUO3O918UYkUj1nFyICPeL-DrRsoWeBORn6A5FPN1nCQIXjeTdinv2aNcXOjDn5oBx-5WqusqJebM19icjKDP53x44C6P5YjOBdOO2MWg/s200/IMG_7248.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXqK4Yq4r1Bo0iJO979N409DKVF-VfwkKIBsAO0DtfWYwlULhtYwCG4i7p_MUOa_z4v2flZAXeGtFpm6UZWIW5Iald7Yrp1WCt4LUIffEUDtulJ845K9zMTEVugZf8iPepTNoBC48xbg/s1600/IMG_7254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXqK4Yq4r1Bo0iJO979N409DKVF-VfwkKIBsAO0DtfWYwlULhtYwCG4i7p_MUOa_z4v2flZAXeGtFpm6UZWIW5Iald7Yrp1WCt4LUIffEUDtulJ845K9zMTEVugZf8iPepTNoBC48xbg/s200/IMG_7254.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9tCYGYNMNejMLsQDeTz-TjVy6HubbEuCREkmZGPZRDF3INs4ifDCfS8mfffct4woolFOjv3B-Es_WUEXQf67W7HWNqCSI0MV1polS9ePbVm7PQcglUMylHGrOP1lMkWUDNpLVos6Kw/s1600/IMG_7256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9tCYGYNMNejMLsQDeTz-TjVy6HubbEuCREkmZGPZRDF3INs4ifDCfS8mfffct4woolFOjv3B-Es_WUEXQf67W7HWNqCSI0MV1polS9ePbVm7PQcglUMylHGrOP1lMkWUDNpLVos6Kw/s200/IMG_7256.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToMgLTIoxEd8hkgrMkAtcZNYu_4UTrq5BhiXg5H-yVn31qu_MGkfxxHf7R8WYFoEz7cTLWt11h22Yq8McO4ha4W2afwJESnwif1idaiU7v8dJ8RHsfKQyR4JOnDNrMHlk8dsLOeqRUg/s1600/IMG_7253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToMgLTIoxEd8hkgrMkAtcZNYu_4UTrq5BhiXg5H-yVn31qu_MGkfxxHf7R8WYFoEz7cTLWt11h22Yq8McO4ha4W2afwJESnwif1idaiU7v8dJ8RHsfKQyR4JOnDNrMHlk8dsLOeqRUg/s200/IMG_7253.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHxhUlBkN3J3J1Il6AnrfiLxeZ8WFQUIP58QFn5ZR-wAnhEVHpDZqXeBGk0Mie2a1RbzLgs3QbBoYuUtwfDxiQSPCPc8LHpJW5ALbOxq-PZRrxeHtgFmi3EJ_2LSHyqm9kIWxW85bLw/s1600/IMG_7284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHxhUlBkN3J3J1Il6AnrfiLxeZ8WFQUIP58QFn5ZR-wAnhEVHpDZqXeBGk0Mie2a1RbzLgs3QbBoYuUtwfDxiQSPCPc8LHpJW5ALbOxq-PZRrxeHtgFmi3EJ_2LSHyqm9kIWxW85bLw/s200/IMG_7284.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After an uplifting visit of the Red Cross Vocational Centre in Da Nang we made our way back to HCMC on June 30 by plane.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">With only a few days left until my return back to Canada, Mai and I got very busy meeting with partners who share the same goals. It's always nice to share experience and benefit from each other. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One of the centres we support employs youngsters with disabilities. They sew different kind of products including canvas bags of all shapes. A way for us to fundraise and generate money is to sell bags to suit the needs of business in Canada. A Kingston local bakery ordered from us reusable baguette bags and we have several more orders being processed as we speak. We take great pride in ensuring our clients are satisfied with a quality handmade product delivered by people who otherwise would have nowhere to go if it wasn't from this centre.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We purchased more pop up greeting cards as they have been very successful and we anticipate a big demand with the Holiday season approaching.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir5OKsBviybln40yQr_SYIXcJvgYLZezP8k57KFJvY7oowS3BQCOWJKMWN65SZBx7f8ZMuGo61U69H4w7TOnbmiG4JOp8XKX0PCVFHCIwwlHbT8kreEUCx4zyuPnO8gZobEkPrjfG6DQ/s1600/IMG_4840.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir5OKsBviybln40yQr_SYIXcJvgYLZezP8k57KFJvY7oowS3BQCOWJKMWN65SZBx7f8ZMuGo61U69H4w7TOnbmiG4JOp8XKX0PCVFHCIwwlHbT8kreEUCx4zyuPnO8gZobEkPrjfG6DQ/s320/IMG_4840.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">While in Saigon, we also paid a visit to our good old friend Papa at Ca May Man and brought over provisions of food and other necessities. For those of you who are new, Papa is a Japanese man who lives in Saigon. He has taken under his wings youngsters who suffer from various disabilities and he teaches them how to work, while providing them with 3 meals a day and a safe place to sleep. They make paper mâché Lucky Fish and used to mainly ship them out to Japan to be sold in pagodas. For technical reasons with exportation, it has been increasingly difficult for them to fulfill orders to be shipped abroad. Papa's mission truly touches me. There is something about this man that just makes you feel like helping them out is the right thing to do. We purchased 1000 Lucky Fish from them in December 2016 and we still have a few hundreds to sell. Of course, all profits go back to help our people in Vietnam.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Our last work day in Saigon saw us visit a new centre, the Gia Dinh School where 80 children with Down Syndrome and autism go every morning to learn the basics to function in daily life. Partly funded by the adjacent catholic parish, the school however functions at a deficit and needs support. We had a good conversation with the assistant director who asked if we could provide help in acquiring a PA system and craft supplies. The children learn how to make crafts the school can sell to fundraise. Twins for Hope is planning on purchasing various goods we will offer in the near future.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I came back on July 4th, via Seoul. This mission was very productive and both Mai and myself feel we made giant steps in securing our relationships with our centres and our partners in Vietnam.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We have launched a gofundme Back to School campaign until mid-September. Our goal is $3000 which we intend to split between 3 centres to provide school supplies and pay for tuition for children reaching higher levels.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Please consider supporting us in one of the following ways!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://www.gofundme.com/its-also-back-to-school-in-vietnam">https://www.gofundme.com/its-also-back-to-school-in-vietnam</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.paypal.me/TwinsforHopeCANADA">https://www.paypal.me/TwinsforHopeCANADA</a><br />
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<a href="http://twinsforhope.org/">http://twinsforhope.org</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/twinsforhope/">https://www.facebook.com/twinsforhope/</a><br />
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Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-72652115229927002017-08-02T22:04:00.002-04:002017-08-02T22:04:28.950-04:00PayPalHere is a new and easy way to support us!<br />
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<a href="http://paypal.me/TwinsforHopeCANADA">paypal.me/TwinsforHopeCANADA</a>Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-58715298093649022842017-07-30T22:26:00.005-04:002017-07-31T06:03:12.842-04:00Twins for Hope - June 2017 Mission (Part 1)<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Twins
for Hope went on its second official mission since its creation: Executive
Director Johanne Wagner and Mai Nguyen, our Vietnamese representative, had a
productive time from June 26 to July 4, 2017. They did what they love doing the
most: helping children in Vietnam, while meeting new partners who share the
very same passion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Our
adventures started in the province of BaRia: we secured a room in a hotel sitting
on the beautiful coastline, in Vung Tau, by the East Sea. Twins for Hope
supports two centres in Ba Ria province: a vocational centre in Long Hai where
160 children attend training, and a centre run by a congregation of sisters
where they care for 60 youngsters, most of them suffering from disabilities.
Twins for Hope offered 3 bicycles to 3 children in Long Hai: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Thao (2001): Thao’s mom passed away and her father left. She lives with her uncle’s family and they are very poor. Thao has only completed a grade 5. She studies sewing.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Thuy (2005): Her father passed away
and her mother left. Thuy lives with her 80-year-old grandma. She is in grade
1.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Tuan (2000): His father passed away.
He lives with his mother who fishes. He is studying in grade 3 and is learning
to fix motorbikes.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">In
Ba Ria, Mai and Johanne offered the sisters cooking seasonings, toothpaste,
toothbrushes, Advil, dental floss, soap, cleaning products and diapers. We
marveled at the great interactions between the children and their caregivers.
Those sisters are totally dedicated to the well being of the residents and we
were pleased to see how friendly everyone is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Following those 2 visits in Ba Ria province, Mai and
Johanne made their way back to Ho Chi Minh City to catch a flight to Pleiku, in
Gia Lai province (700 m above sea level) where we met with two valuable
partners who helped us access our destinations by way of motorbike. Over hills,
then dodging livestock (chickens, water buffalos, cows, dogs, pigs, goats) on a
dirt road filled with potholes, we made our way to </span><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Chư Sê (32 km) where we met a 56 year old
man who takes care of 72 children who otherwise would have nowhere else to go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">A note on the Father:<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">About 10 years ago, he was in a village and saw a group of villagers
trying to bury the corpse of a mother who had just died in labor. They believed
it was the baby’s fault. They were going to bury both of them, the baby alive,
stuffed in the mother’s tummy. Dad saw this, grabbed the baby and started
running. The villagers caught up with him, but the man promised to raise the
child, following her ancestors’ traditions. </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">As time went on he ended up with more and more kids under his care.</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Over half of the
children are homeschooled by the father while the other ones are able to attend
some sort of education outside of the home. The oldest is even attending
University, thanks to the help of benefactors who pay for her tuition! Number
72 of the children had arrived the day before our visit: abandoned and found in
the woods nearby, he was brought over to the house. Newborn baby boy, maybe one
week old at most, barely 2 kg, he had not been examined by anyone. Johanne, mom
of 9, took a look at him, checking for the obvious, but her and Mai felt he
should be seen by a health care professional. Twins for Hope paid for transportation
of the man and the child to the nearest hospital and also paid for the medical
consultation. The baby boy was found to be healthy, to everyone’s relief. Twins
for Hope provided blankets for the household, as well as baby formula, diapers
and baby wipes to help out with the new addition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16pt;">Running out of time
on that day with several mechanical issues with a motorbike, the crew opted to
postpone our scheduled visit to Kon Tum to the following day. Also, the weather
seemed a bit too uncertain and we were concerned darkness would catch us.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16pt;">The next morning,
we took a bus to Kon Tum (48 km) to go visit a colony for lepers and assess how
we can help. The Sisters of Providence from France initially created the
village when they decided to gather the lepers of the area and care for them.
The village has 1000 people living in home settings where the 70 active lepers
live with their families. The sisters cook meals for the lepers daily and they
come to the central kitchen to get them. There are 150 children in the village,
and add to that number several minority children from the surrounding areas who
come to the village daily for schooling or childcare. Some of them come from families
unable to care for them and they stay in dormitories in the camp where the
sisters care for them. The conditions are extremely basic. We have offered the
Sisters to help them with school supplies, over the counter medication for the
children, tuition for older children who need to attend school outside the camp,
and other necessities as the needs arise.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Yes, we did see
lepers. No, we were not scared. Leprosy does not jump on you. We saw people
with beautiful smiles, who were obviously happy to see people who care enough
to go visit them. I can’t wait to bring over a group of people interested in
volunteering for a set period of time. This day was a memorable one!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Part 2 coming very soon... Stay tuned!</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">You are enjoying our adventures and what we do? Please visit our ''It's Also Back to School in Vietnam'' fundraising campaign and help us reach our goal!</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://www.gofundme.com/its-also-back-to-school-in-vietnam"><span style="font-size: x-large;">its-also-back-to-school-in-vietnam</span></a></div>
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Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-197194150342331412017-04-29T19:41:00.005-04:002017-04-29T19:41:53.137-04:00Our New Website Was Born!Officially in operation, here is our joy and pride, our new website!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://twinsforhope.org/">http://twinsforhope.org</a><br />
<br />
Our door is wide open, please pay us a visit!<br />
<br />
Johanne, Kris and the Twins for Hope Team!Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-76953354739501336252017-04-15T12:02:00.000-04:002017-04-15T12:31:04.903-04:00Medicating or not: Only stubborn people never change their minds...Growing up, I used to hide under my mom's skirt. I was shy, obedient, quiet. I never spoke up. I actually was fearful of authority.<br />
<br />
I remember looking at classmates who were misbehaved with total incomprehension. How could they be so disrespectful? I felt bad for the poor teachers.<br />
<br />
<i>It never occurred to me that maybe some of those kids could not help themselves.</i><br />
<br />
And then I became a teacher. I was comfortable with using a very conservative type of class management. I like to think of the analogy of the iron fist in the velvet glove approach. Naive and convinced that my imposed discipline would prevent students from being defiant and misbehaved, I quickly woke up to the reality of the then mid nineties. Teachers training ill-prepared future teachers to deal with the more challenging cases: that was the <span style="background-color: white;">job</span> of special ed teachers. I remember the Ritalin parades at lunch time, before the longer acting version of the medication came out. It seemed epidemic to me. How could parents in their right minds put their kids on medication at such a young age? Never would I do that to my kids. After all, when you're the perfect teacher who can control a class, why wouldn't you become a perfect parent?<br />
<br />
<i>It never occurred to me that maybe some of those kids could not help themselves.</i><br />
<br />
And then I became a parent, blessed with ''healthy and normal'' kids at first. Kids who behaved reasonably well, except for the occasional bacon strip in public. The perfect kids for the perfect teacher, always aiming to be the <i>best</i> mother.<br />
<br />
I will never forget the comment the director of the orphanage jokingly made when I picked up my little <span style="background-color: white;">Toan</span>, back in 2011: ''a little handful!'' What did she mean by that? Shy little one year old <span style="background-color: white;">Toan</span> extended his arms towards me when I bent over the crib to look at him. A true charmer. Obviously, love at first sight. The perfect pair, mom and son. An inner promise that I would always be there for him, no matter what.<br />
<br />
Initially believed to maybe suffer from cerebral palsy which was quickly refuted, <span style="background-color: white;">Toan</span> was a quiet little boy, most likely overwhelmed by the new environment presented to him. Instantly the youngest of 7, we felt lucky that he adapted quickly to his new life. But not without tears. I was his buoy and he felt safe and secure as long as I was in sight. We became medical appointments buddies as we tackled his many issues including malnutrition, cryptorchidism, ptosis, clasped thumbs, speech therapy, and trying to put a name on the package: I felt the need to sum it all up with a <i>label</i>. The diagnosis took 3 years to come to light through genetic testing: Noonan syndrome.<br />
<br />
Easy. For the physical part of things. Growth hormonal therapy would ensure the maximum growth achievable for him.<br />
<br />
Around the age of three, we noticed some withdrawal on his part. He would make eye contact but would often pay more attention to objects than people. He would often be found playing on his own, by choice, in spite of having so many siblings. He became a ''collector'', taking things that did not belong to him and hide them. The notion of <i>Toan's secret stash</i> became the running joke in the family. He also showed on several occasions that he had zero filter, putting his mommy in very embarrassing situations...! He became very impolite and would lecture us on a regular basis.<br />
<br />
We went through autism testing twice. To my greatest frustration, both evaluators were not able to put him anywhere on the ASD.<br />
<br />
His behaviour at home worsened. Aggressive, obnoxious to everyone in the house, spiteful, vindictive. Fit upon fit. Some lasting longer than others. Everyone took turn getting upset with him. And all along, I knew it was affecting him. I could feel there was a tornado inside of him.<br />
<br />
<i>It did occur to me that maybe my little guy could not help himself.</i><br />
<br />
His paediatrician is the first one who mentioned ODD to me: oppositional defiant disorder. With ADHD she believed. I went home with questionnaires for Michael, the teachers and myself to fill out. Filling them out, both Michael and I were in fits of laughter as it seemed to describe our little boy to a T. At school, it came out more as an attention deficit. Is this what could explain his learning challenges? How could my boy ''hold himself'' for a full day at school only to lash out as soon as he got home?<br />
<br />
I had a long talk with the doctor about treatment. Ritalin was an indication to treat his ADHD and hopefully help with his ODD.<br />
<br />
<i>I would become one of those parents. Did this mean I was no longer the perfect mother?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Luckily, I did not dwell too long. You see, adoption has been a true blessing for me as it rid me of a lot of superficial worries and guilt. When you are in medical survival mode with special needs children, you quickly learn that there are many good alternatives for the sake of your child's well being. What I used to swear by with my ''perfect healthy children'' ceased to apply in the care of my special needs beauties. And I also believe age makes you wiser...<br />
<br />
We decided to try Ritalin a little over a week ago. It was an overnight change. At school, Toan is more engaged in learning. At home, he is a joy to have around. And I bet his self-esteem benefits from the treatment as everyone, including him, is happier and more positive.<br />
<br />
It is when it gets better that you realize how difficult it was.Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-23213105987026525492016-09-05T21:48:00.000-04:002016-09-05T21:48:02.178-04:00Twins for Hope Fundraising with Mabel's LabelsLike us on Facebook <a href="https://www.facebook.com/twinsforhope/">https://www.facebook.com/twinsforhope/</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">Back to school! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Helping <b>Twins for Hope</b> bring relief to impoverished children in Vietnam is easy with Mabel's Labels! Just click on the following link:</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://mabelslabels.com/c/?type=fundraiser&b=4590&cur_website=base">http://mabelslabels.com/c/?type=fundraiser&b=4590&cur_website=base</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Label your children's belongings and shrink the lost and found! These amazing customized labels are microwave, dishwasher and laundry safe. Only one click can help make a difference in the life of a child with <b>Twins for Hope</b>!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNNISaPnOPaGQJQknfIjdrNxgGSLCk8V21eCX1pnqPzmRKiwM1MfiTmDWGNb6OeZXGBGqmkoOv5yRFU9b4jukwxW-IEecAE0Hwv6Cp9_2ezRm8qxAKmwCw3ieROeUP6So8oJGNSXZxYw/s1600/mabels-labels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNNISaPnOPaGQJQknfIjdrNxgGSLCk8V21eCX1pnqPzmRKiwM1MfiTmDWGNb6OeZXGBGqmkoOv5yRFU9b4jukwxW-IEecAE0Hwv6Cp9_2ezRm8qxAKmwCw3ieROeUP6So8oJGNSXZxYw/s320/mabels-labels.jpg" width="320" /></a>Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-3061550361359283832016-07-05T16:06:00.001-04:002016-07-05T16:06:39.945-04:00SickKids: Twin Transplants<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5nXR6XiSM7k" width="480"></iframe>Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-63728911763350898072016-06-28T00:46:00.000-04:002016-06-28T00:46:08.791-04:00Putting a Face on Organ Donation<br /><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our appeal to find live liver donors for both twins traveled
around the world almost at the speed of light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Messages landing by the hundreds in my Facebook account set up for the
twins (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/Liver-Transplants-for-our-Vietnamese-Twin-Girls-1401239010168456/">https://www.facebook.com/Liver-Transplants-for-our-Vietnamese-Twin-Girls-1401239010168456/</a>)
came from people from all kinds of different ethnic backgrounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People of all races, of all ages, both men
and women, speaking all kinds of different languages: all united by the same
desire to make a good deed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Binh went in to receive her gift of life in the form of
a liver coming from a live anonymous individual, I started to fantasize about
who that person might be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was this
person a mother herself, pushed by compassion, solidarity, and the realization
that this could very well happen to her own children?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or was this person a father like my husband,
inspired by what Michael did and wanting to help us out?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could this person be a young man with a
bright future ahead of him and a strong desire to make the world around him a
better place?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or was this person a young
woman who had been personally affected by someone in need of an organ donation?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whoever that person might be, I had come to accept that they
might or might not reach out to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
suspected they would probably follow the Facebook page (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/Liver-Transplants-for-our-Vietnamese-Twin-Girls-1401239010168456/">https://www.facebook.com/Liver-Transplants-for-our-Vietnamese-Twin-Girls-1401239010168456/</a>)
if they wanted to follow Binh’s progress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The mystery did not last for very long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few weeks after Binh’s liver transplant, an
anonymous person, hidden behind a false identity, revealed to me the identity
of the donor, in a private message.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
remember feeling enraged for having the donor’s identity thrown at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The name and face of that special person was to
be forever engraved in my memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember
feeling concerned for the donor who wanted to remain anonymous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also remember feeling like I was betraying
the donor: I knew who they were, but could not say anything.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I tried carrying on for months with this secret in my heart,
unsuccessfully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I became consumed with
the idea of this missing family member, especially around bigger family
events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weight of the anonymity
became unbearable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, with deep
respect, I made a plea to myself to wait the person out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worked on trying to accept that they might
never reach out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went through months of sadness and emotional pain. All I wished was to be able to say thank you in person to that special person for saving my daughter’s life. Was that person feeling the same distress for not being able to witness her progress in real life?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fortunately, the curse of knowing who this person was, slowly became
a blessing as we started to exchange in private written conversations,
discovering our common views on Life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
became a well-coordinated dance with words, like a tango, always mindful of the
other while sharing deeper thoughts, always in respect. But never mentioning the organ donation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p>I reached out to the Living Donor Transplant Program at the
hospital in hopes that a meeting could be facilitated, or at the very least,
that the donor could be notified that we were willing to meet. Little did I know then that our donor had
expressed the same wish to the Program.
Both our requests were denied.
The integrity of the Program would be protected, to the detriment of the
emotional well being of both the donor and the recipient’s family. The principle of anonymity would not be
compromised. It would prevail.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I believe that from that moment on, we both decided we had
to eventually break the silence. Thanks to social media, thanks to the
anonymous person who revealed to me in the first place who the donor was, we
were able to reach that turning point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Binh’s
donor and our family were able to meet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our meeting has turned better than expected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our family has gotten bigger with this new
member joining in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> The mystery person was demystified, in simplicity and naturally. </span>We are grateful for
what Life has given us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Binh will be
able to grow up with this person as part of her life, and this person will have
the joy to see the product of the hardship they went through to save her life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What is to be said of those donors and recipients who have
never made the headlines and who might suffer in silence from not being able to
bring closure?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How are they supposed to
find each other on their own, without any support? While we understand the
position of the Program on the respect of the anonymity status, we also believe
each case has to be treated individually, in order to ensure the well-being of
all parties involved. We understand that not all stories will end like ours.
Let’s face it: we were particularly lucky to be such an excellent match of
characters on top of being a perfect organ match. However, we each have lived
through the imposed silence and believe it is the responsibility of live organ
donation programs in the various institutions operating such programs to ensure
both recipients and donors are well taken care of.<o:p></o:p></div>
Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-12303081100656504702016-03-20T00:52:00.000-04:002016-03-21T08:42:21.647-04:00The Tale of a Second Transplant<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="background-color: #882222; color: seashell; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Like us on Facebook </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Liver-Transplants-for-our-Vietnamese-Twin-Girls/1401239010168456" style="color: #ddbb99; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-decoration: none;">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Liver-Transplants-for-our-Vietnamese-Twin-Girls/1401239010168456</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16pt;">(The exact date of Binh’s
transplant surgery will remain a cherished little secret between the donor and
us.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">My daughter Rose, Binh and I
left Kingston by train 2 days before Binh’s transplant, loaded with our personal
items as well as with a lot of medical supplies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pre-transplant, each girl was on quite the
medication regimen and also still had a gastric tube, which in itself requires
a lot of gear: feeding pump, IV pole and dressings of different kinds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition, we had no idea of how long I
would stay in Toronto, so I brought many different things to make life at
Ronald McDonald House (RMH) more comfortable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Michael, still weakened by </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">Phuoc's</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> transplant, stayed in Kingston with Phuoc on daily </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">homecare nursing, grammie and the rest of the children.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">We arrived at Toronto Union
and met with a friend who had offered to drive the gear to RMH for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An organized, thoughtful and well-planned
Service Woman, she had also bought a few things to garnish our mini
fridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once at RMH, we settled our room
and made our beds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With suppertime
approaching, Rose, Binh and I headed out and walked randomly (Binh was
comfortably being pushed in her stroller…).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We decided on some Thai food in a cute little spot on Dundas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">I remember watching Binh: she
had no idea of what was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
remember thinking of how nervous Michael got in the days leading up to surgery:
the only times I had seen him that nervous was when we bought our first house,
and prior to his first tour in Afghanistan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember having a thought for the donor: how was he or she feeling?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Binh barely ate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Liver disease made her nauseous to the point
she had no interest in eating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">We went back to RMH to prep
the meds and prepare her pump for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We snuggled in bed and binged on free cable tv.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Binh was admitted the next
morning, the day before transplant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many
tests were done on that day to make sure she was ready for the ordeal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stool sample, chest x-rays, bloodwork upon
bloodwork, and finally, some IV lines were inserted early evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never an easy thing to do with the twins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The IV team came in the room, ready for the
challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She earned an Elsa crown and
wore it with pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rose walked back to
RMH before dark and I stayed with Binh on 6A at Sick Kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all seemed too familiar, having been
through the same thing with Phuoc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, with Phuoc, I knew Michael would show up for sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would our donor show up for Binh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t believe I ever had doubts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember asking Life to give this person
the strength needed to go through so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were going towards the unknown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I had seen Michael…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">I woke Rose up by phone the
morning of the transplant at 7h00 to hurry her to the hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Binh was still sleeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The transplant nurse came in and told me the
donor had arrived across the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
cried so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Relief, and fear for him
or her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> ''</span>Who would do such a thing for
my daughter…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This little orphaned girl
who was given so little credit at first…'' Crazy thoughts were going through my
mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Timings are blurry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rose arrived and we waited quite a while
before heading to the holding area with Binh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Once there, she got quite agitated and was given a sedative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She became limp and heavy in a matter of
seconds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I met with the OR team and was
explained once more how things would go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Binh being basically unconscious made it easier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, there was no camera crew in the room,
unlike the first time around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The whole
event was kept under wrap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kissed my
Beauty good luck, watched her go and cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Rose kept me busy, although I
have no memories of what happened until 3h00 pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized then that things were not matching with the first time around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The liver had not been transferred yet from Toronto General.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was everything ok?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was the donor ok?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s at 3h15 pm that I got confirmation that
the liver had just been transferred and that the donor would be out in a few
hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Binh had been all prepped (it
takes up to 2 hours to insert all the lines and prep for the actual
transplant).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> ''</span>Beautiful liver'' I was
told.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good job Donor on being a healthy
person!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Binh’s surgery took 10
hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I met the doctor late that night
it seems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember some of the words
coming out of his mouth: ‘’New liver on the bigger size, smaller hepatic artery
than anticipated for Binh, micro surgeons called in, abdominal wall closed,
g-tube kept, ICU for up to a week’’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All
in all, relief that she was most likely to pull through, like her twin sister.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">I was able to see her in ICU
a while after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beautiful little doll who
had gone trough so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A vision all
too familiar to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">I walked back to RMH that
night, just staring at the windows around where Michael’s room was a while
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that that person was in
absolute pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was hoping that someone
was with him or her to advocate for his or her needs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That person’s gratification was to know they
had saved a little girl’s life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Totally
unselfish act of heroism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would not
get the gratification of an embrace with Binh a few days later like Michael had
with Phuoc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This still blows me away. But they sent their love our way, through the team.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">The first day after surgery
is referred to as day 1.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made my way
to the ICU with Rose early in the morning (always saluting our donor in my
heart as I was walking in front of TGH), after having phoned overnight to see
how she was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Binh had a much more
difficult time than her sister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had
to be tied to the bed for much longer as she only had one idea in mind: pulling
all tubes out, including the breathing tube.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My little lion, my fighter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heavy
sedation and morphine were the only solution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As mentioned before, the liver was a bit big for her and this made
breathing trickier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition, she
suffered from partial paralysis of her diaphragm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> This happens in 10% of cases. </span>I was allowed to hold her in my arms for a
brief moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First liver ultrasound was
done and the results were A-1.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New liver
was working beautifully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Day 2:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her breathing tube was removed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shortly after, she had a big seizure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That took us all by surprise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>CPAP was brought in to help with her
breathing, until the diaphragm wakes up and starts working on its own. Eyes started to clear, orange tinge fading away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Day 3 and day 4: breathing
therapy with CPAP on around the clock. Once Binh was no longer attached to her bed to restrain her, I never ever saw her scratch again. Itching disappeared right away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Day 5: Off CPAP!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But still in ICU.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By this time, I was thinking our donor might
be on discharge avenue…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Always sending
good vibes his/her way…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Day 6: Binh had her first
post transplant poop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>½ white (typical
of liver disease), ½ brown, a sign of a good working liver!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom even took a picture!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Discharge from ICU and move to 6A: victory! Xanthomas started to ''melt'' on her knuckles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">All the time Binh was in ICU,
I went back to RMH to sleep at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This went on as long as she was on one on one nursing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Day 7:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fever started, with her wound leaking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her intra jugular lines also got
infected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On top of that, we started to
work on weaning from morphine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is
not fun to witness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Day 8: her true self came
back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a bad mood, she showed the exit
door of her room to the well meaning clown, and put mommy in the doghouse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Day 9: first walk to the
playroom! Later that day, insertion of </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">picc</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> line. A surgery in itself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Day 10: She became lethargic
with a low haemoglobin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The culprit:
Passenger Lymphocyte Syndrome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
residual white blood cells from the donor started to attack her red blood
cells.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The donor was blood type O and
Binh is blood type A.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She received
transfusions of type O blood to calm down and satisfy the donor’s white cells
until they die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fascinating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Day 11 is when we got her
dressed for the first time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">More episodes of low
haemoglobin happened, with more transfusions in the following days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">I walked in front of TGH that
day and saw people obviously being discharged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our donor was probably already gone by then.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">In the mean time in Quebec
city, my father was admitted to the hospital. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So was my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father suffered from Alzheimer’s, mom has
heart problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dad’s health
deteriorated very quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He fell and
broke his pelvis while in hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
Binh was receiving transfusions, so was he.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I last spoke to
him 2 days before he died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never
forgot my name and always remembered my children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved them all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> This was the last time I heard him say my name. </span>Had he been able to talk more, I know he
would have told me to stay with my daughter in Toronto.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s why I stayed with Binh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him Binh was going to be ok.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think this might have been his green light
to stop fighting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">After his passing, Michael
made his way back to Toronto with Phuoc to allow me to attend the funeral with
our older 3 daughters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our 4 sons stayed
in Kingston with Grammie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Looking back, it feels like I
was hit by a truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remained numb for
months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An emotional wreck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I am a master at hiding those things in
public. Some days are still very hard, especially with all those anniversaries.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">This second transplant has a
happy ending though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Binh bears the
piece of liver of a wonderful person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I hug my little girl, it is surreal to think that she shares more
with this person physiologically than with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And I see the same thing when I watch Michael and Phuoc together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Binh has never had any
rejection episode: a match from heaven!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 21px;">Our story made headlines around the world: Michael and I are only the instruments, the voices speaking on behalf of Binh and Phuoc. Those two little girls who at some point had no future, have saved many lives through their sufferings.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: 21px;">Be an organ donor, like me. Register and make your intentions known by your friends and family. Become the voice for those waiting for the Gift of Life. Be their advocate.</span></span></div>
Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-44038945363763540272015-10-11T09:57:00.000-04:002015-10-11T20:29:56.039-04:00On Giving Thanks...There are celebrations during fall in different cultures, faiths and families throughout the world. To only name a few, India celebrates its Festival of Lights (Diwali), the Muslim faith celebrates Eid-Al-Adha, the Jewish faith celebrates Sukkot, Cambodia commemorates the end of the rainy season with its 3 days Water Festival (Bon Om Touk), the Mid-Autumn Festival is celebrated in China and in Vietnam. <br />
<br />
In North America, we celebrate Thanksgiving. This weekend is Thanksgiving weekend in Canada. In the United States, Thanksgiving is celebrated at the end of November.<br />
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Growing up in an all-French environment in the 1970s, we never talked about Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was the mid-autumn long weekend when we would collect the leaves fallen from the trees. I have dear memories of my late father making huge piles of leaves so I could jump in them when I was a little girl. <br />
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When I moved to English Canada for university in my late teens, I discovered there was a lot more happening than just picking up leaves. The hallways in the elementary school where I was a French language monitor were covered with turkey and harvest themed crafts made by the children, the markets selling autumn flower arrangements in downtown Ottawa, the squash on display coming in all different colours, and of course, the turkey and its fixings being advertised on sale everywhere. I love fall, I have always loved fall, maybe because I am an October baby! But I love fall even more since I started to make a point of including Thanksgiving as an official celebration in my life. It started in a very modest way when I was living on my own, but it took a bigger turn over the years. And I married an anglophone, which made it easier! Michael loves cooking on Thanksgiving. He is up early to prepare the turkey and its fixings and I usually take care of the baking. We love having people over and entertaining. I love seeing the crafts the little ones make at school.<br />
<br />
Thanksgiving is widely celebrated in English Canada. It is an occasion to celebrate and give thanks for the blessings of the harvest. But for our family, it took another meaning, a very special one. On Thanksgiving weekend in 2008, we received the proposal to adopt our beautiful Logan Hoang. We got an email with his picture and it was love at first sight. This wee little guy was then 2 months old, in an orphanage in Vietnam. From then on until adoption day 2 months later, we lived on 2 time zones, constantly thinking about him and his well-being. We get very emotional each year as Thanksgiving approaches and as Logan Hoang is growing, he senses the importance of the whole deal.<br />
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In 2015, Thanksgiving is gaining even more meaning for our family. Let's not sugar-coat it, we have been through quite the year. But in hind sight, it has been a wonderful successful one. We are grateful for everyone who has been supporting us, for all the media who have helped us convey our message. I am not a believer for say, but I like to thank Life for my beautiful daughters' health, and also for preserving my other seven children's sanity through it all.<br />
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I am grateful for the medical teams who have been involved with the twins, Michael and our anonymous donor. I am grateful for my Canada who took my twins under its wings while they were so sick.<br />
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Thank you Michael for being the father you are and for giving Phuoc a second chance at life. Thank you anonymous Donor for your unselfishness and for giving Binh another chance as well.<br />
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From our house to yours, Happy Thanksgiving to all!Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-38763446860322669232015-04-03T21:39:00.001-04:002015-04-08T20:16:02.402-04:00We Are Not Wonderful Or AwesomeWe do not pretend that our actions make us wonderful or awesome people. Yes, I will admit, we like to look at ourselves in the mirror and be proud of who we are. And that's what we tell our kids: make sure your actions make you proud of yourself. That you can look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the day and be satisfied with what you have done or what you have said. Michael and I are proud of who life has shaped us to become. We feel fulfilled with what we have, with who is surrounding us. We feel like we have nothing to envy. This did not all happen overnight. It takes a long time sometimes to build enough self confidence to learn to swim upstream comfortably. But we just followed the course of events that unfolded in front of us. Everyone comes to life with a mission and I guess we are living up to what ours was through our family, our children.<br />
<br />
The really wonderful and awesome people are the ones around us, near or far, who have been helping us through this all so far. Hopefully, I have everyone here...!<br />
<br />
- my mom and dad, and Michael's mom and dad for supporting us without judging us;<br />
- our friend who has been helping our boys with their homework during my absence;<br />
- our precious friends and our caregiver who have travelled to Toronto to bring support;<br />
- our friends who have been supporting Michael and have been advocating for him in hospital;<br />
- the MFRC in Toronto for helping us find an incredible ''human resource'' and the KMFRC in Kingston for their support with the girls;<br />
- our Military family who organized a Meal Train when I returned to Kingston and felt so overwhelmed;<br />
- the local restaurants and businesses who took part in the Meal Train;<br />
- our amazing friends from far away in UAE who have been supporting us since the very beginning of this amazing adoption story of the twins: we miss you guys so much!<br />
- our Vietnamese family in Canada: we are so blessed to have your support and we are proud to make the Vietnamese culture a part of our family;<br />
- the parents of the dance, robotics and cadets communities who have helped with transportation;<br />
- the mother who made sure my boys could attend her little boy's birthday by providing transportation;<br />
- the little child who asked his guests for donations for the twins in lieu of birthday gifts: thank you from Binh and Phuoc!<br />
- the individuals from all over the world who have been sending presents to the twins and their siblings;<br />
- the young man who offered Binh and Phuoc a tote bag from his company: thank you Andrew!<br />
#BeTheReasonSomeoneSmilesDay<br />
<a href="http://grouphugapparel.com/">grouphugapparel.com</a><br />
- Michael's co-workers and the personel who works at the Base Hospital;<br />
- My friend Véronique who took over the admin of our Facebook page when it became overwhelming! <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Liver-Transplants-for-our-Vietnamese-Twin-Girls/1401239010168456">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Liver-Transplants-for-our-Vietnamese-Twin-Girls/1401239010168456</a><br />
- all the so very generous people who have been contributing to our GoFundMe: wow!!!<br />
- the random people who saw me in the hospital, recognized me and just came over to give me a hug;<br />
- the medical teams at Sick Kids and Toronto General Hospital<br />
- our home care nurses who show up everyday at home for IV therapy;<br />
- the very patient people who work in the Live Liver Donor Assessment office at TGH: do we owe you paper for the fax machine?<br />
- all the 100s (over 600) people who have volunteered to donate part of their liver for our girls: that took a lot of courage!<br />
- and hopefully the many of those hundreds who will make the decision to leave their name on the list to be anonymous donors for the other equally worthy people waiting for an organ;<br />
- my children's schools: thank you for keeping an eye on my precious children by making sure they remain happy through this all;<br />
- all the different groups and organizations who have come together to send donations, thoughts and prayers our way;<br />
- and all the members of the media and press, from all over the world, for helping us by making our twins' story known and therefore helping in raising awareness for organ donation and Alagille syndrome.<br />
<br />
Without all of you, this would not be possible. YOU are the AMAZING and AWESOME ONES!<br />
<br />Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-66010221566789804842015-04-03T16:56:00.000-04:002015-04-03T18:19:58.987-04:00February 10, 2015: A Date To Remember<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Like us on Facebook <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Liver-Transplants-for-our-Vietnamese-Twin-Girls/1401239010168456">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Liver-Transplants-for-our-Vietnamese-Twin-Girls/1401239010168456</a></div>
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February 10, 2015, marks a victory for our family. We promised the twins, on the day we first saw them in Vietnam back in November 2012, that we would do everything we could for them. I was determined to fight to the very end for them. And I did. We fulfilled our promise. </div>
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On that very special day, my husband Michael donated a portion of his liver to our daughter Thi Phuoc. </div>
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I woke up on that morning with a gentle kiss from my husband. I had slept in the room at Sick Kids with Phuoc and he had spent the night in a hotel nearby. Well, in reality, neither of us slept. Michael was anxious and so was I. But Phuoc slept well. Michael brought me a coffee. It was 5h00 am. We sat for a bit, then went for a short walk in the hallway. There was not much to be said. We both were secretly hoping for the very best outcome. But we both were also aware of the risks involved for him and Phuoc. 5h30 came fast and it was time for him to go so he could report at Toronto General for 6h00. This Army guy never wants to show up late! It felt weird for me to see him leave for something as big as this was, and not be able to go with him. I have seen him go off on missions with the Military many many times, but none of these goodbyes were nearly as hard as this one as he was embarking on a special mission. I felt thorn between my duty as a wife/best friend and my motherly duty. And it remained like this the whole time Michael was in the hospital.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhMVja8udxH32FXnYgVeaAuS0spGFJ0xW6Sqvu3weX5bQSC3Y4UvkUbtoFLo4FhRjFeuL5r2RQRFrGQAee3vbz4f5_7rjLtmqD1fE8lnJo5wZzFZiCy4HXegHzsjiYk4GNN-I54s8ZA/s1600/IMG_0341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhMVja8udxH32FXnYgVeaAuS0spGFJ0xW6Sqvu3weX5bQSC3Y4UvkUbtoFLo4FhRjFeuL5r2RQRFrGQAee3vbz4f5_7rjLtmqD1fE8lnJo5wZzFZiCy4HXegHzsjiYk4GNN-I54s8ZA/s1600/IMG_0341.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Daddy saying goodbye to Phuoc on the eve of the transplant.</i></div>
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My older daughters arrived bright and early, dropped their suitcase in Phuoc's room and raced to Toronto General to get the chance to kiss their dad good luck before the surgery. They made it and came back to spend some time with Phuoc before her time came. A very close friend of mine also came to spend a few days with me including the transplant day, and then another very good friend arrived to help out with Binh and the whole situation. I was lucky to be well supported because Michael and I had totally underestimated the challenge ahead of us. Having two loved ones in surgery and then in recovery in two different hospitals is tough. And having a toddler around, waiting for her turn to go is hard as well.</div>
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We spent some really nice time with Phuoc, who was in a really good mood. She was giggling, being her true self. Once we got the ok from TGH that Michael's liver was good to go, Phuoc got called in.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT4Fv487mIFSYzbS6ziOERA_rjtJ0FJTtYhyA70nxaoSJCpIcE_HF_hqxoXLG4Qt0Ul7-CcWEsY9BJxdDCqHrsLTXLjgAxMx620vfJAxOeR8xexba-uNQ-NDVaGOcugWLHGQqPK8faMQ/s1600/IMG_0285.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT4Fv487mIFSYzbS6ziOERA_rjtJ0FJTtYhyA70nxaoSJCpIcE_HF_hqxoXLG4Qt0Ul7-CcWEsY9BJxdDCqHrsLTXLjgAxMx620vfJAxOeR8xexba-uNQ-NDVaGOcugWLHGQqPK8faMQ/s1600/IMG_0285.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Mommy saying ''see you later'' to Phuoc, just before she entered in the OR for an 8 hour long surgery.</i></div>
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We walked Phuoc over to the holding area. It got very emotional and Phuoc started to sense something was not quite right. I held her close while talking to the nurses and the anesthesiologist. I did not want to let go of my little baby girl. I carried her to the door of the OR and handed her over. This was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But I knew by doing so that I was fulfilling my promise. There was nothing else more I could have done for her. And when the doors closed, I felt a huge sense of relief.</div>
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The day went on very smoothly, almost in a surreal manner. I spent quite a bit of time on Facebook reading all the nice messages from people, did some laundry and organized a few things where we were staying. We went to have a bite to eat and I even saw my big face on tv while eating! And before we knew it, I received a text telling me that Michael's piece of liver had been carried over to Sick Kids and that he should be out within a few hours. And so he was. His surgery was done in 7 hours and I was able to go visit him around 4h00 in the ICU. I remember thinking how surprisingly good he looked.</div>
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Drugs were an amazing thing for him: he barely remembers the first few days...! It helped control the pain and discomfort, both mainly associated with gas trapped in the abdomen. We asked another close friend of ours to spend a few days with him to keep him company and be his advocate. This way, I was able to give more of my time to Phuoc and Binh. This was a good plan. He stayed in ICU for about 36 hours and was then moved to a room. He sat the day after the surgery and walked to meet me in the hallway on day 3. Michael stayed in hospital for 9 days. But on release day, he was doing pretty well. It sure helps when you go in in excellent shape.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1e1KFDi5nnkNvHjTdz795XNchmhPDroxnAH00YD1OcECuhrjLGQT8rTx80VHfteAJoYr4K5n7HknLXpDhGyaO5TCUmev5pEbo4c7r3RGr2GcZedcTrG5rI1xe0-fW2NBSAbdlLvA3A/s1600/IMG_0298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1e1KFDi5nnkNvHjTdz795XNchmhPDroxnAH00YD1OcECuhrjLGQT8rTx80VHfteAJoYr4K5n7HknLXpDhGyaO5TCUmev5pEbo4c7r3RGr2GcZedcTrG5rI1xe0-fW2NBSAbdlLvA3A/s1600/IMG_0298.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Dad in ICU. I went to visit him while Phuoc was still in the OR.</i></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">I must have made my way back to Sick Kids around 5h30 pm. I think we met with the surgeon around 7h30 pm, but I could be wrong, things are a bit blurry. I remember hearing these words coming out of his mouth: ''v</span><span style="text-align: justify;">ery smoothly and as planned. G-tube remains.Very optimistic.''</span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;">And this is all I needed to hear. Both my loved ones had pulled through. And that's all that counted then.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">I went to visit my Phuoc in CCU and I have to say I was very well prepared: I had seen many pictures of liver transplant kids coming out of surgery. My girls are fighters. They have been through many storms in their short lives. I knew Phuoc would be ok and I know Binh will be ok when her turn comes.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">The nurse told me to go and have some rest. My friend and I went for a celebratory glass of wine, and barely talked to each other as we were reading the nice comments from people from all over the world! I barely remember my head touching the pillow: it had been an emotionally exhausting day, but we are privileged to have been given a chance with Phuoc. We are now anxiously waiting for Binh's turn to come, when it is due to come.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja0KzHVsxc0etCNO3z03Cl1rBIUslMt188sFJjulJ2tgDzLEyIX-d3WOlhTYFTN3SXdJTNCo5dpbW6eSM9nAiI_jyOiZKjkxPlI-2BRnBpWKLUJXqGQd2P-kNd5vRpYD5wQTcVmNaZ6g/s1600/IMG_0360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja0KzHVsxc0etCNO3z03Cl1rBIUslMt188sFJjulJ2tgDzLEyIX-d3WOlhTYFTN3SXdJTNCo5dpbW6eSM9nAiI_jyOiZKjkxPlI-2BRnBpWKLUJXqGQd2P-kNd5vRpYD5wQTcVmNaZ6g/s1600/IMG_0360.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Phuoc coming out of surgery. This was in CCU.</i></div>
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<i>Still in CCU. Day 1, breathing tube already out.</i></div>
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<i>Day 3. Sitting for the first time.</i></div>
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<i>Day 5. First visit from daddy. He walked halfway between the 2 hospitals. Impressive.</i></div>
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<i>Back home after 4 weeks. Healing well.</i></div>
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<i>6 weeks post transplant. Binh (left) is still waiting for her life saving surgery. Phuoc (right) is obviously doing very well.</i></div>
<br />Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-44943334717533954402015-02-01T13:52:00.001-05:002015-02-01T13:52:17.507-05:00Positive Turn Out! Kudos to You All!Here are the latest news from Toronto:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.cbc.ca/player/News/Canada/Toronto/ID/2651133618/">http://www.cbc.ca/player/News/Canada/Toronto/ID/2651133618/</a><br />
<br />
Over 350 people reached out and enquired with the live liver donation assessment office at the Toronto General Hospital! And 280 people so far had faxed their application as of Friday!<br />
<br />
This is incredible! And for so many reasons: people are reaching out to my little girls. Also, Alagille syndrome is getting media attention and getting more known. But ABOVE ALL, hopefully those courageous people who have submitted their applications will elect to leave their name there in order to help save others who are on the list waiting for a liver, and are just as important as my daughters. <br />
<br />
I hope this media campaign is giving hope to the many who are suffering in silence.<br />
<br />
We are spending a wonderful weekend as a family. Nothing fancy, everything low key: long term school projects have been completed, overdue paperwork is getting done, and I managed to fit in a nice run this morning. Brrr. -25 degrees Celsius. But I got her done ;)<br />
<br />
Daddy took the boys out for some fun in the snow and I am chilling at home with my girls, smaller ones and older ones.<br />
<br />
Who is a Super Bowl fan here? We are no sports fans, but we like to spend time with some of those who are. They like to eat chicken wings on Super Bowl Sunday and we happen to like chicken<br />
wings ;p<br />
<br />
Have a good one!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-83428453887811526272015-01-28T23:14:00.002-05:002015-01-28T23:14:41.050-05:00Keeping Busy, While WaitingSomedays, it feels like we are watching the kettle, waiting for the water to boil. <br />
<br />
It also reminds me of how I felt at the end of each pregnancy: you know it will happen, you try to be ready at all times with a clean house, working out every little detail, and then you go to bed at night and realize it wasn't the day! I remember those days so well...<br />
<br />
Aside from the media campaign, I still have to keep busy: mom of 9 wouldn't want to be lazy...!<br />
<br />
I had a very productive day. I went out for a run this morning and it felt very good. I went yesterday and it did not feel so good with a temperature of 26 Celsius below zero with the windchill factor! I officially started my half-marathon training for the race in Ottawa at the end of May. Last big racing event I did was my marathon (42.2k) 2 years ago. I have been battling injuries since and had whooping cough last winter, which forced me to stop right in the middle of a full marathon training I was supposed to do last May. I worked up my distance to 26k. I remember that Sunday, I was supposed to do 19k. I added a few more, in honour of a little girl with Alagille who had just had a transplant that very same week. Beautiful little R truly inspired me that day... <br />
<br />
The half is a nice distance (21.1k), not too too time consuming, and I hope to be able to do all the training in spite of the transplants. And it will also keep me honest with myself. Running makes me feel good, once I come back home;) We are experiencing quite the frigid temperatures this winter, and it makes for easy excuses not to go out. But I have had a big ball of tears in my throat for weeks now, and the only time it comes out, is when I am running. Crying while running outside under very cold temps hurts the cheeks ;) It should get better with warmer weather.<br />
______________________________<br />
I am just randomly babbling here... I just went to shut off Phuoc's feeding pump and lost my train of thoughts. I will lose it again in a few minutes when Binh's beeps... Just like a fog horn in the night. It is what it sounds like,when it beeps in your sleep, I am telling you! And then, you pretend you are sleeping sound... until your husband gets up to shut it off... Same routine with the baby crying at night... I had a lot of valuable training with that ;)<br />
______________________________<br />
<br />
Back to my productive day...<br />
<br />
Since the twins will be immunocompromised after transplants, I decided that there could be no hidden dust in the house: so I had all the duct work for heating and AC cleaned up by a very nice and professional man. I was so impressed by his service! And I killed two birds with one stone! He also was able to provide carpet cleaning services. So I had the 2 stairways done. It feels good tonight to know that we can breathe good quality air! I also secured house cleaning services weekly for the time I will be away in Toronto. The very nice lady who makes awesome cookies and who is known to be quite magical, aka Grammie, does not need to worry about that, on top of taking care of 7 grandchildren...! And to make sure I was keeping busy, I spent every spare moment tending to our Facebook page enquiries and talking to more media people.<br />
<br />
Hubby left for Toronto today for the last steps before transplant. No, WE DO NOT have a date yet! I want to enjoy each day before the first transplant to the fullest with the twins. I had the chance today to enjoy their crankiness to the fullest since they were really in a bad mood this morning! And they feed off each other during those days.<br />
<br />
No news either about the 2nd donor. All I know is that they can only assess one potential donor at a time for each twin. And since one donor has been found already, it means one person through the mill at a time.<br />
<br />
Time to go to bed, morning will come soon enough!Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-65181493985412369932015-01-26T22:37:00.001-05:002015-01-26T22:45:24.971-05:00Individual RequestsHello All! <br />
<br />
I am unable to answer individual emails about donations. To know about the steps involved, please refer to the post from January 25, 2015. Thank you to all who are interested, it means a lot to us! Please contact directly the Toronto General Hospital (liver transplant assessment office) as we can't get personally involved in applicants' process. Thank you for your understanding!Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-70033165487611335042015-01-25T16:24:00.001-05:002015-01-25T16:24:35.141-05:00How To Donate A Part of Your Liver ;)Hello Dear Readers!<br />
<br />
I am getting so many versions of the same question: how do I go about donating a part of my liver?<br />
<br />
It is obvious that I need to repost the criteria to be met. Here we go, hold on to your hats!<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">A potential live liver donor must:</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">1) be older than 18 years of age and younger than 60 years of age;</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">2) be in good overall health and physical condition;</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">3) have a compatible blood type: A or O (rhesus factor + or - does not matter);</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">4) have a BMI of less than 35 to be worked up for consideration and no greater than 32 at the time of surgery (transplant).</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Work up takes 3-4 days in Toronto. At the time of surgery, donor can expect to be in hospital for 5-10 days. The donor can expect to be off work for about 6 weeks. The donor's liver will regenerate and regrow to its original size within 6-8 weeks.</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">The Trillium Gift of Life Network can offer financial help through their PRELOD program.</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><a href="http://www.giftoflife.on.ca/resources/pdf/PRELOD%20FAQ.pdf" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.giftoflife.on.ca/resources/pdf/PRELOD%20FAQ.pdf</a><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Please note that REGULATIONS PROHIBIT FAMILIES OF RECIPIENTS TO FINANCIALLY HELP POTENTIAL DONORS.</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">If you are interested in being a live liver donor for our daughters, please contact:</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Toronto General Hospital (UHN)</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Living Donor Assessment Office</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">416.340.4800 ext: 6581</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">and specify that you are willing to be assessed to donate to either THI BINH LA or THI PHUOC LA (date of birth 14 May 2011).</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">You can also go to their website:</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><a href="http://www.uhn.ca/MOT/PatientsFamilies/Clinics_Tests/Documents/LivingDonor_LiverDonorManual.pdf" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.uhn.ca/MOT/PatientsFamilies/Clinics_Tests/Documents/LivingDonor_LiverDonorManual.pdf</a><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">or print the Donor Health History and fax it at 416.340.4317</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><a href="http://www.uhn.ca/MOT/PatientsFamilies/Clinics_Tests/Documents/MOT_PF_CC_LivingDonor_DonorHealthHistoryForm.pdf" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.uhn.ca/MOT/PatientsFamilies/Clinics_Tests/Documents/MOT_PF_CC_LivingDonor_DonorHealthHistoryForm.pdf</a>Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-77642027119476128332015-01-23T23:36:00.002-05:002015-01-24T21:00:47.936-05:00Update With Media AttentionHello All:<br />
<br />
I never ever thought our life could become suddenly so interesting! We are just normal folks living normal lives after all, with the exception that our little girls need each a liver transplant. Wait a minute... This is far from being normal, liver transplants??? Your support is AMAZING and it feels so very good!!!<br />
<br />
All kidding aside, here are a few points:<br />
<br />
1) Husband has been cleared as a viable live liver donor for one of the twins. This transplant *should* take place in about 2 weeks. Until this transplant is completed, there is no guarantee.<br />
<br />
2) We still need to find a second donor for the 2nd twin. WE HAVE NOT BEEN NOTIFIED YET THAT A DONOR HAS BEEN FOUND. I have been told the assessment office in Toronto is turning applications away... Maybe the fax needs more paper? Ha ha ha.<br />
<br />
3) I am unfortunately unable to respond to individual requests due to the high number of messages coming. I feel very bad about this, but I will feel worse if I have to let the children to themselves while I am on the computer ;)<br />
<br />
4) Many have asked what kind of help we need. Train (Via Rail) vouchers would be great to assist us with the commuting back and forth from Kingston and Toronto for 7 children and 2 adults they know well to escort them. We drive a type of vehicle that requires a special driver's license very few people have. In addition, our oversized vehicle does not fit in underground parkings.<br />
<br />
5) Believe me, every effort will be made on our part to keep everyone informed of the progress of our journey to transplant for both twins.<br />
<br />
6) Lastly, here are the criteria for donation:<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Binh and Phuoc, 3.5 years old, were adopted from Vietnam in 2012. Both twin girls suffer from Alagille syndrome, a genetic </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">disorder that affects the liver, heart, kidney, and other systems of the body. Both twins are now listed on the liver transplant list, waiting for a life-saving liver transplant to take place at the Hospital for Sick Children, in Toronto, Canada. It could take a long time for livers from deceased donors to come their way. Another life-saving option for each twin is live liver donation.<br /><br />A potential live liver donor must:<br /><br />1) be older than 18 years of age and younger than 60 years of age;<br />2) be in good overall health and physical condition;<br />3) have a compatible blood type: A or O (rhesus factor + or - does not matter);<br />4) have a BMI of less than 35 to be worked up for consideration and no greater than 32 at the time of surgery (transplant).<br /><br />Work up takes 3-4 days in Toronto. At the time of surgery, donor can expect to be in hospital for 5-10 days. The donor can expect to be off work for about 6 weeks. The donor's liver will regenerate and regrow to its original size within 6-8 weeks.<br /><br />The Trillium Gift of Life Network can offer financial help through their PRELOD program.<br /><br /><a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.giftoflife.on.ca%2Fresources%2Fpdf%2FPRELOD%2520FAQ.pdf&h=zAQEsf5JN&s=1" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.giftoflife.on.ca/resources/pdf/PRELOD%20FAQ.pdf</a><br /><br />Please note that REGULATIONS PROHIBIT FAMILIES OF RECIPIENTS TO FINANCIALLY HELP POTENTIAL DONORS.<br /><br />If you are interested in being a live liver donor for our daughters, please contact:<br /><br />Toronto General Hospital (UHN)<br />Living Donor Assessment Office<br />416.340.4800 ext: 6581<br /><br />and specify that you are willing to be assessed to donate to either THI BINH LA or THI PHUOC LA (date of birth 14 May 2011).<br /><br />You can also go to their website:<br /><br /><a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.uhn.ca%2FMOT%2FPatientsFamilies%2FClinics_Tests%2FDocuments%2FLivingDonor_LiverDonorManual.pdf&h=ZAQFLfiBT&s=1" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.uhn.ca/MOT/PatientsFamilies/Clinics_Tests/Documents/LivingDonor_LiverDonorManual.pdf</a><br /><br />or print the Donor Health History and fax it at 416.340.4317<br /><br /><a href="http://www.uhn.ca/MOT/PatientsFamilies/Clinics_Tests/Documents/MOT_PF_CC_LivingDonor_DonorHealthHistoryForm.pdf" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.uhn.ca/MOT/PatientsFamilies/Clinics_Tests/Documents/MOT_PF_CC_LivingDonor_DonorHealthHistoryForm.pdf</a><br /><br /><br />In the name of Binh and Phuoc, we thank you for your consideration and your help.<br /><br />Johanne and Michael<br />parents</span>Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24838737801178842.post-85955100012753988712015-01-22T08:12:00.002-05:002015-01-22T08:12:37.998-05:00We Have A Donor!!!<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Michael's assessment update:</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Everything looks good, TRANSPLANT to take place in about 2 weeks, after the MRI has been reviewed in detail, date will be set.</span><br style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">WE HAVE A DONOR for one of the girls!!! We need one more!</span>Johannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11467405382307186126noreply@blogger.com13