It’s Sunday. Normally that means a reset, a bit of freedom, maybe something resembling a “Sunday Funday.” For me, it meant another day in the hospital—still here, still waiting, but doing okay all things considered.

This weekend hit me with a level of exhaustion I didn’t expect. On Saturday, I managed to get caught up on a bunch of work, and that actually felt good. There’s something grounding about being productive, even from a hospital bed. Today was the opposite. I slept most of the day. Deep, heavy sleep. My body clearly needed it. From the chest up—especially my shoulders—it feels like I got into a fight, even though I’m barely moving. Bed. Chair. Washroom. That’s the full map of my […]

Good mornings don’t usually start with this sentence, but here it is: I can walk today. And that alone makes it a good day.

If you watched or read my earlier updates, you know yesterday was… eventful. I couldn’t move my right leg, I was peeing every two minutes, and at one point a nurse solved the problem by very efficiently removing my pants for me. As it turns out, all of that had a very real—and very positive—medical explanation.

And honestly? I love it.

The Backstory: Five Years of Fluid and Drainages

A little over two years ago, I had a procedure called TIPS (Transjugular Intrahepatic Portosystemic Shunt). In simple terms, it’s a bypass—a tube placed through the liver to relieve dangerous pressure […]

There really is a first time for everything. This one felt like a scene straight out of a movie—just not the version anyone imagines playing out in real life.

It started simply enough. I kept telling the nurse, “Just take my pants off.” Practical request. Straightforward. Instead, she solved the problem decisively by tearing them right off—pants, underwear, everything. No ceremony. No hesitation. One moment I was clothed, the next I was in a hospital gown, wondering how quickly dignity can disappear in a medical setting.

The reason was less funny than the execution. I was peeing every two minutes. Not five. Two. Constantly. On top of that, I wasn’t allowed to move my right leg because the procedure had gone through […]

There are moments in life when everything narrows down to a single hallway, a single room, a single decision. For me, this was one of those moments.

I was heading into surgery that was expected to last about four hours. The goal was clear: address a clot, aspirate it if possible, reduce its size, and help it dissipate faster. It was another step in a long medical journey, but an important one. At this point, progress is measured in small victories.

Oddly enough, the last thing I noticed before going in wasn’t fear. It was the operating table. I kept thinking about how warm it would be, how comfortable I’d be, and how I wouldn’t remember a thing. The plan was simple: […]

Hey everyone. As you can see, I am not in surgery right now. The transplant was put on hold, and I will not be receiving this liver.

We were very close. Everything was pointing toward it happening. All the initial tests were done, and we fully believed this was moving forward. But when you arrive at the hospital, they still run a final series of tests to make sure it is safe to proceed.

During that final testing, a scan revealed a blood clot. In French, they called it a thrombose or a caillot. This was not a simple clot that just blocks a vein and can be easily cleared. It was located right where the new liver would be attached. That […]

Earlier that evening, we were doing something completely ordinary. I was playing board games in the hospital cafeteria with Carolyn, our son Hudson, and Aunty Christine. For a little while, things felt almost normal.

At 8 p.m., I had to head back upstairs to my room. Hospital rules. We walked together to the main entrance, said our goodbyes, and I turned back inside, hauling my IV pole and pumps with me as usual.

That is when my phone rang.

The call was from CHUM Hospital in Montreal, where I am followed by a hepatologist and transplant team. The timing alone felt strange. It was late. I assumed most staff would have gone home by then. […]

Good evening everyone. I am at the hospital tonight and wanted to share something important with you all.

As 2025 comes to a close, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for the messages, the prayers, the support, and for the people who stepped forward. None of this has gone unnoticed, and I carry that gratitude with me every day.

Even though I have been in and out of the emergency room since late December and tonight is no exception, I am beyond grateful to share some incredible news.

I have been matched with a living liver donor.

The donor has been approved, the surgery has been scheduled, and the transplant date […]

Since our son was born, I have watched Mitch transform—he pours everything into being the best father he can be, creating memories and sharing beautiful moments. But lately, our time together has been overshadowed by his declining health. Mitch spends 3-5 days a week in the hospital, enduring 2-3 blood transfusions weekly due to pancytopenia, a condition causing dangerously low red and white blood cells and low platelets.

Mitch is also battling liver failure, which has caused severe ascites, leading to painful fluid buildup in his abdomen. He requires 2 weekly drainages averaging 8 liters of fluid drained each time, and he is at high risk of septic infections. His kidneys are nearing end-stage failure, further complicating his condition […]