As cool as it was hanging out with C茅line Dion, visiting David Foster at his Malibu mansion and trading childhood wisecracks with the late Ed McMahon, Jamie Cormier鈥檚 life today isn鈥檛 nearly as glamorous.
And that鈥檚 just how one of Victoria鈥檚 most famous transplant recipients likes it. Cormier, 27, says he鈥檚 just happy 鈥� and grateful 鈥� to be alive.
Diagnosed with liver disease soon after being born, he was once a poster boy of sorts for the David Foster Foundation, which provides financial and emotional support to families of children who need organ transplants.
Twenty-six years after receiving a liver transplant at 10 months old, Cormier is living proof a transplant recipient can overcome challenging obstacles and lead a productive life.
After 鈥渂eing in a shell for most of my life,鈥� the optimistic survivor who works part-time as a London Drugs cashier says he鈥檚 happy to be out of the spotlight and into a world of normalcy with a sense of purpose.
Looking back, he says it鈥檚 shocking to see how much attention he received growing up. But it鈥檚 no wonder. As McMahon once observed, Cormier鈥檚 quick wit and confidence in the spotlight made him seem at home there.
鈥淵ou give that boy a mike and he鈥檚 very comfortable,鈥� Johnny Carson鈥檚 longtime sidekick remarked during a foundation fundraising event in the summer of 2002, when Jamie was 14.
鈥淵ou have to have that spirit to survive, and Jamie鈥檚 really got it,鈥� says Lynne Mozley, who worked with the David Foster Softball Society since its inception in 1986 and was the foundation鈥檚 executive director from 1994 until 2009.
Cormier鈥檚 father was in the Canadian Armed Forces and the family had been transferred to Trenton, Ont., from Victoria a few months before Jamie was born.
He was diagnosed with biliary atresia, a liver disease, two months after he was born. In February of 1989, four months after unsuccessfully undergoing the Kasai procedure, an interim operation that could potentially have created a new pathway for bile flow using part of his intestine, Cormier underwent many more tests and additional surgery before it was determined he would need a liver transplant.
By that summer, a liver became available in Newfoundland, but it was too large for his body, recalled his mother, Kathy Cormier, who raised Jamie and older sister Kara as a single parent since they were three and five, respectively.
Kathy remembers being 鈥渄evastated and scared鈥� in 1989, fearing another organ wouldn鈥檛 be available in time to save her son after the Newfoundland false alarm, but another donor was found a week later.
Jamie鈥檚 16-hour transplant operation was done by surgeon Dr. Ricardo Superina, whom Kathy describes as 鈥渁 god to me鈥� and his team at Toronto鈥檚 Hospital for Sick Children, including nursing specialist Nancy Graham whose 鈥渉ugs and extra knowledge鈥� soothed Kathy when she needed it most.
It was followed by more surgery arising from complications, including a blood clot on the side of the liver. Cormier also had a serious lung infection cured by an experimental drug Superina suggested.
With support from the foundation, Kathy, whom Cormier describes as 鈥渕y bedrock,鈥� the family returned in 1992 to Victoria. After her husband moved back to Nova Scotia, she began raising her children on her own in Esquimalt and Tillicum before moving to a home in Victoria she still shares with her son.
It was all part of a journey that would see Cormier spend much of his young life in and out of hospitals, although less often as his health improved.
Still, there are times when the family gets a jolting reminder of what is at stake. That was the case five years ago, when 鈥渨e almost thought we were going to lose him,鈥� says Kathy, 65.
鈥淚t gets tougher as I get older, and once you reach adulthood, you鈥檙e on your own,鈥� says Kathy, whose son had to see a specialist when his bile duct became dangerously blocked, necessitating a drainage bag.
鈥淏y the grace of God, it worked,鈥� she says, referring to how a stent inserted into his bile duct had successfully 鈥渢ricked it into opening up鈥� by the time it was removed a year later.
Indeed, Kathy鈥檚 faith has been tested time and again.
It brought back the 鈥渆verything happens for a reason鈥� philosophy espoused by her late mother, who also told her God never gives you anything you can鈥檛 handle.
鈥淗e must think I can handle quite a load,鈥� Kathy says with a laugh. 鈥淓ven the nurses, when Jamie was young, said: 鈥楬e is here for a special reason.鈥� 鈥�
During her years with the foundation, Mozley, pager at the ready, became acutely aware of how the Cormier family 鈥渉ad such a rough go of it,鈥� prompting the foundation to assist with the purchase of groceries and medication they couldn鈥檛 afford, and trips to Toronto鈥檚 Hospital for Sick Children. Since they never knew whether their stay would be for days, weeks or months, Kathy had no choice but to go on social assistance.
鈥淚 could never book a return trip for them, and she had to take Kara with them,鈥� says Mozley, noting the survival rate in the late 1980s for such procedures was only 30 per cent.
鈥淚t鈥檚 what we would do for every transplant family back then. When they go away, they have to maintain two households.鈥�
Mozley bristles at memories of how Kathy, who had been a provincial-government employee during the Bill Vander Zalm era, would be 鈥済iven the worst time possible鈥� by sa国际传媒 Ministry of Human Resources staff.
鈥淭hey were terrible to her, and she was emotionally fragile to begin with. Her cheque was always late,鈥� says Mozley, now a director of Richmond-based Children鈥檚 Organ Transplant Society.
鈥淜athy is very smart and meticulous, and kept a looseleaf binder with every date, time, every drug he was given. She had everything documented,鈥� she recalls.
The Cormiers say they will be forever grateful to the David Foster Foundation, adding that Mozley, their 鈥渁ngel of mercy,鈥� will always have a special place in their hearts.
鈥淟ynne saved me from so many situations,鈥� says Kathy, recalling how ministry staff 鈥渨ould accuse me of being on holiday鈥� when she had to fly to Toronto with her son on a moment鈥檚 notice.
Although she realized skeptical staffers 鈥渉ave a boss, and they鈥檙e just doing their job,鈥� she鈥檒l never forget the day when one clerk gave her such a hard time that she snapped.
鈥淚 looked at him and said: 鈥榊ou know what? I used to stand on the other side of this desk, and I鈥檝e had enough of your questions,鈥� and I walked out.鈥�
Kathy, who works part-time at the Salvation Army in Langford, says Jamie鈥檚 transplant journey was particularly difficult for Kara, whom family friends would care for while her mother took Jamie for treatments.
鈥淪he was too young to understand what was happening,鈥� recalls Kathy, whose daughter is now 30 and works as concierge at the Strathcona Hotel where, she notes, Foster got his start.
鈥淣o matter how hard you try to make things normal, you can鈥檛. That鈥檚 why Lynne was so amazing, keeping us together all the time.鈥�
Kara has been affected her whole life by the impact of her brother鈥檚 health challenges and to this day hates having to go to hospitals, Kathy said.
While Cormier still has health problems, including exhaustion and bouts of chronic pain, and must take medication, including anti-rejection drugs, he says he feels blessed.
He has seen other organ recipients who haven鈥檛 survived, which only increases the resolve of the young man Mozley, 68, calls 鈥渁 very kind and caring person who loves everybody鈥� to help others.
鈥淚鈥檓 so fortunate I have such great help,鈥� he says, crediting family and friends and 鈥渕y amazing doctors鈥� 鈥� Dr. Neil Crofton, his family physician, and gastroenterologist Dr. Andrew Singh.
鈥淗aving a transplant for 26 years, you are thankful, but you also know you are never out of the woods,鈥� he says matter-of-factly.
He says he鈥檚 grateful to his bosses at the downtown London Drugs, where he has worked for two years, for their willingness to accommodate his illness.
鈥淥ne of the frustrations is I do want to work full-time, and do more, but my body doesn鈥檛 always let me,鈥� he says, admitting he sometimes feels 鈥淚鈥檓 not pulling my own weight鈥� working shorter shifts.
His feeling was carried over from a job he held for six years at another local business, where a new manager was less understanding about his health challenges.
鈥淚 knew that whoever would understand, that would be the one I would want to work for,鈥� he says, grateful the London Drugs manager who hired him had reassured him it was with the understanding he had health issues they would take into consideration.
Despite his medical roadblocks, Cormier, who shares his mother鈥檚 sense of humour, isn鈥檛 into self-pity, especially when he thinks about his anonymous two-year-old organ donor.
鈥淪omeone gave up their life to allow me to live mine,鈥� says Cormier, who admits he would love to meet and thank the donor鈥檚 family.
鈥淚 can鈥檛 even imagine what it felt like losing a child,鈥� he says. 鈥淚t would be hard for them for me to bring it up, but I鈥檇 feel very completed to meet and thank them, but I don鈥檛 want to step on their toes.鈥�
Today, Cormier is on a mission to encourage organ donation and raise funds to assist adult recipients through his own foundation, TUF (Transplant United Foundation).
鈥淥nce you turn 18, it doesn鈥檛 stop,鈥� he says. 鈥淵ou have lifelong hospital visits, and they have enough to deal with and don鈥檛 need to deal with financial stress, as well.鈥�
His advice to others is to cherish your life and live it to the fullest, do what you can to help others and remember that it鈥檚 never too late to donate.
鈥淚t鈥檚 very important that people know organ donation does save lives, especially these days. I got mine in the 1980s when this was still new, and I鈥檓 still here by the grace of God.鈥�
