Take on the Chain of Life Challenge at mont Vallée du Parc!

We all have a story to tell, and no matter when that story ends, there's continuity for every passage. The value of organ donation helps us understand the importance of continuing to bring colour to others. At first glance, Michaël was recognized for his incredible talent as a musician, creating music as if he had a close bond with the notes and instruments. He had an understanding of sound that fascinated those around him.     

But above all, he was an intelligent son, brother, partner and friend with a particularly colourful sense of humour. A young man whose infectious laugh was a perfect match for his wacky jokes. A no-nonsense, good-natured analyst, his love of animals had a way of making everyone around him smile. He could regularly be seen tapping his feet on the floor, echoing the percussion of a song in his head, or whispering sweet nothings to one of his dogs or to his bird. Genuine affection and loyalty for the little creatures of this world brought him comfort, as it does to so many of us. 

Each individual is unique, but I'd like to think that everyone has crossed paths with a Michael in his or her life. A talented person we liked like to be around, with the ability to engage in far-reaching conversations to the point of almost philosophizing. I'd wish this on everyone. Between his music, his time with his family, his partner, his animals, his friends and his manual labour, gifted with all the concepts of filage and meticulousness, this passionate and sensitive young man carried the strength and vulnerability of life on his shoulders through his sensitivity. 

Curious and interested, the look in his hazel eyes and his mussed chestnut hair still linger in the memories of all those who loved him and whom he loved in return. And so, at the age of 27, when his path came to an abrupt halt, we found ourselves digesting a lot of information and having to make a decision: Could we be patient enough to help him give back?

A mother on her way to work, a spouse getting ready to leave, a father on the road for the day, and a little sister about to face midterms at CEGEP. A day that seemed mundane and spoke to everyone's reality, until less than an hour later, we found ourselves confronted with a different reality. We were asked to bid him a quick farewell, since the prognosis was not good. Mom sang a lullaby, Dad held his hand, his sweetheart reminded him she was there, and I tried to stay strong. We were all at his bedside. Against all odds, he stabilized. We were later told that around 10% of his brain was still "alive," so the inevitable was about to happen. The question of organ donation quickly arose. 

I think we all remembered the exact moment when, at a family dinner, we were talking about the aftermath. And he was categorical: "In any case, if, when I die, my organs are still good, I want you to donate everything." It's normal to hesitate when this happens, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But on the flipside, it's an incredible and unlikely chance we we given to be able to remember the kindness and generosity of a loved one in this way. We said yes, because it was what he wanted. And we all remain deeply grateful that had had this conversation beforehand because we knew what he wanted. That it would save lives. It's important to discuss this with your loved ones, because this simple question can change the course of existence and give hope to more than one person. 

While we waited to find the recipients, his friend with whom he made music played a riff they'd been working on together. It was a peaceful and memorable moment to be able to still share this passion with him. When it came time to take him to the operating table, most of the medical staff at Hôpital Sacré-Coeur in Montreal lined the walls of the corridor leading to the elevator as a sign of respect for this hero. We sang Hallelujah, accompanied by the gentleness and empathy of all these people who shared our sorrow, but who honoured this beautiful man whose life had been music.
 
Many people had a hand in saving the life that allowed him to save the lives of others: an attentive and fast-reacting colleague performing first aid, bystanders acting as first responders, and hospital staff ready to respond to the situation. It was also thanks to them that he and we were able to give to others. A heart, two lungs, two kidneys, a liver, a pancreas and several tissues, including his cornea. Seven organs, for six lives forever changed. 

We all have a story to tell, but simply writing it on a card isn't always enough... Are you ready to share your last wishes with your loved ones? I'd like you to know that to date, this continuity in its finality has enabled me to live more gently through the mourning of my lifelong superhero: my big brother. 

Joannie

"True courage is found in situations we have not chosen."

This is the sentence that runs through my head when I feel like giving up during expeditions like when I climbed Mount Logan in the Yukon in 2020 with my teammate, Bruno-Pierre Couture. It's the highest mountain in Canada. Storms and bitter cold didn't stop us from reaching our goal via a route hanging over the glaciers on the West ridge, and then continuing on to climb Canada's second-highest mountain, Mount St-Élias, via the North face. 

All along the way, a Chain of Life flag in my left pocket reminded me of the courage and many challenges faced by those waiting for a transplant. Yes, it takes courage...

I love the comparison between climbing a mountain and Chain of Life because it's one step at a time, one person at a time and one donation at a time that we will advance the cause of organ and tissue donation.

Indeed, every transplant is a "summit” reached.
Frédéric Dion