Special Occasions, Spotlight Sunday

Father

He holds me up. His strength and support have never let me fall far, for very long. On this Father’s Day I want to share a personal memory of my father, a perfect example of why my father is the best there is.

The day had been long and full of fun, but I was dead on my feet. We spent the day touring Toronto. Mom and Dad wanted to try and cheer me up, just days before the big surgery. We had to be in Toronto to check into Ronald McDonald House. I had to report to Sick Kids for some pre-transplant tests and one last dialysis run.

My three friends were allowed to come for the night. After spending the morning at the hospital the six of us went first up the CN Tower and to The Toronto Islands for the afternoon. We spent the day playing mini golf and riding the rides. It was a day none of us would ever forget.

By the end of it all we had the long walk, back from the ferry to Ronald McDonald House. I was hours away from receiving his kidney, in the hopes that I would get a whole new lease on life. I had been feeling unwell and weak for too long. The day, although fun and memorable, had been more than my fragile body could take. I simply couldn’t walk another step. There was no way I could make it all the way back, blocks and blocks through the Toronto streets.

He was about to undergo a major surgery, for me. He was taking a risk, for me. Of course, I was his daughter and there was never any question, and I will never forget it. However, it was something small, in comparison, that he did for me that day and of which I have never forgotten.

He picked me up when I could not continue. He put me on his back and carried me the rest of the way. As I wrapped my small arms around his shoulders and relaxed against his broad strong back, I was no longer exhausted beyond believe and I was no longer scared of the days to come. My father was my hero and my protector in every way in that moment. I have never felt safer or more secure and protected than I felt on that walk back to The Ronald McDonald House, early in June.

My father is the kind of father to take away my pain and make me comfortable. He would take all the risk and hold me up, anything so I could feel no fear. There’s nothing he would not do for me and he has proven that over and over again, until there is no doubt to be had.

Dad: I know I am safe when I have you in my corner. Thanks for always being there for me. I can only do you this small gesture and let others know about the strength you possess. If only all fathers were like you and no child was left to suffer – this would be a much better world.

Standard
Kerry's Causes, Throw-back Thursday

National Volunteer Week 2014

At the time I thought it an odd paring, Ronald McDonald House right next door to a shelter for run-away teens and street kids. I must admit, as a fourteen-year-old I was nervous to walk by there on my way to and from visiting Sick Kids Hospital. There were always teenagers mingling around on the sidewalk and I didn’t know what to make of them. I was in a huge city and there was so much going on, I had no idea at the time what to make of the paring.

On this Throw-back Thursday I think back to fifteen years ago this month. I was with my family, yet again, staying in Toronto while this time it was my younger brother who was the transplant patient and it was my mother’s turn to give one of her children the ultimate gift any parent could ever give.
Once again my family rallied around us. My grandparents were staying with us. They loved stepping up and taking care of us all, and the experience once more of staying at Ronald McDonald House in Toronto.

I had completed most of my first year in high school. After a year of high school firsts: new courses, new friends, and a surgery of my own we were staying at the Ronald MCDonald House on Gerrard Street for the second time. I had been dealing with chronic headaches all year and nothing could be found to explain why.
After many neurologist appointments and tests all my doctors hoped a surgery to correct scoliosis would fix the problem.
It seemed to be working. I was leaving the role of patient behind and taking up the role of care giver to my mother and brother. I was out of the pressure of high school, drama, and dating and into an environment and a role I was much better fitted for.

Back in our room at the house I stood under the hot water of the shower, letting the stress of only the first few hours of the morning of the surgery melt away, I hoped all was going well in the two separate operating rooms just down the street.
For the next few days we would walk back and forth from hospital to Ronald McDonald House, several times a day, passing those homeless youth, my guide dog Croche soon memorizing the route from one to the other. Those April days seemed to fly by, of course I wasn’t the one in hospital and hooked up to iv’s this time, but I also had no clue how much it meant to the teens just next door to even get a hot shower everyday.

Clang! As the little gate would shut and I would be past the fear I felt when walking by those meandering kids, the safety of the locked and secure Ronald McDonald House door was always waiting. Only families who were registered there with children who were sick could have the pass code to get in.
Once that door closed behind us we felt at home. I felt like this was just another family vacation we were all on and this was a hotel we were guests of.

Right in the heart of downtown Toronto was this haven for my family and myself, always there when we needed a place to stay. Sure, it was only after my brother or myself underwent serious operations, but it always meant the world that this place existed. With everything else we had to worry about, finding some place to stay wasn’t an issue. We had a place we could stay as a family, to be together when we needed to be nearby for my brother and mother both.

Heaven forbid anyone ever need it, but it is there when they do. It wasn’t until years later that I found the irony in the home for families with sick children, (a home away from home as it’s sometimes called) and the home for children who have no family to rally about them or even know it when they’re in trouble, being side by side. I realize now the connection between these two much needed refuges: the people who make them possible: the volunteers.

I want to thank all the giving individuals who selflessly offer their time and their energies. These are only two examples of organizations for children which do incredible work each and every day for our world’s most vulnerable, those most in need. I understand now why in an odd sort of way, the two houses belong beside each other, two houses full of dedicated staff and volunteers, put there to help frightened and in need children. I had a family to support me, while lots of those kids did not. Your family doesn’t have to be related by blood for it to make a difference.

These are just two of the wonderful organizations, specifically to help out children and young people. Please check out their websites, I’ve listed below, plus two more. Volunteers make a lot of the services and programs run by these organizations possible. They deserve some recognition and Covenant House and Ronald McDonald House will be around for a long time to come with the generosity of those who volunteer.

http://www.rmhtoronto.org

http://www.covenanthouse.org/homeless-charity/toronto

http://www.sickkids.ca

http://volunteer.ca/nvw2014

Standard