
These are the stories of The Courage To Come Back Awards. Each year six people are honoured for their courage to overcome and recover from illness, injury or adversity.
Jerome Bouvier, 52 of Port Coquitlam, has been named the 2011 Courage To Come Back Award recipient in the Addictions category. Read more about Jerome >
Amanda Schell, 41 of Squamish, has been named the 2011 Courage To Come Back Award recipient in the Mental Health category. Read more about Amanda >
Victoria Waters, 54 of Nelson, has been named the 2011 Courage To Come Back Award recipient in the Social Adversity category. Read more about Victoria >
Captain Trevor Green, of Nanaimo, has been named the 2011 Courage To Come Back Award recipient in the Physical Rehabilitation category. Read more about Trevor >
Curtis Baldwinson, 17 of Surrey, has been named the 2011 Courage To Come Back Award recipient in the Youth category. Read more about Curtis >
Dr. Graham Bryce, 44 of Vancouver, has been named the 2011 Courage To Come Back Award recipient in the Medical category. Read more about Dr. Bryce >
When a doctor told Jerome Bouvier that he would never stand up again, never take another single step, he didn’t cry. His mom, his brother and his nurse were all in the hospital room and it was they who shed the tears. Bouvier only asked for a few hours alone. Not long after, in the months following a 1983 water skiing accident that smashed his spine and paralyzed him from the chest down, he sat in a wheelchair for the first time.
He didn’t cry then either. He put the chair into a wheelie and roared around the hospital ward. He was OK with it. “I took it. I just accepted it,” said Bouvier, who is the recipient of the Courage to Come Back Award in the addictions category.
After that, he went back to his life. He was 23 and he returned to the California race track where he trained Standard bred horses. He mucked stalls in his wheelchair and he drove horses on the track from a buggy he designed. He did this despite being told he would have to get a desk job. “I was exploring (the wheelchair). I was wondering what the hell this was all about,” he said.
“I fell down stairs. I was dragged through bushes by horses. I was in accidents. I did all kinds of weird stuff. Everything was different and I explored every aspect of that. I went right back to what I was doing before I got hurt, I just did it sitting down all the time.”
And part of that was returning to using drugs — namely cocaine and at an alarming rate. He puts it like this: Cocaine was his best friend, there to celebrate the good times and there to help survive the bad times. And it was with him the day he got injured. He had been partying at a river shore with friends in California, not far from Sacramento where he was working at a race track. “We were flying up and down the river,” he recalled. “The river T-eed, the boat went left, I went straight, the ski caught and shot me out. I somersaulted across the river and crashed into the rocks.”
He’d been using drugs since he was a teenager in Manitoba, when he wanted to fit in and join the cool kids at the high school bush parties. Later, four-day cocaine binges were common. He would run four-miles in the heat until he passed out. He took up stripping on weekends for extra cash and because it was fun.
For Bouvier, now 52, life was extreme — until a combination of experiences made him think that cocaine wasn’t the friend he thought it was. His withdrawal from drugs was years-long and gradual. He never attended any meetings or entered rehabilitation. He doesn’t know any specific dates and is offended by the term “clean” because it implies he used to be dirty.
A year and a half out of the hospital, Bouvier got a strange phone call from a friend who was a heroin addict who had been trying to kick his habit. Bouvier went to his house to check on him and found him passed out between the fridge and the wall, needles and heroin strewn about. He looked around. He saw a set of feet sticking out from under the bed. It was the heroin addict’s teenage daughter. She’d fatally overdosed on heroin.
“I threw myself out of my chair, dragged myself over and pulled her out from underneath the bed. She was purple,” he said. He remembers shouting at her, “You can’t go,” and he remembers the paramedics simply stopping their efforts to revive her. “She stays with me everywhere I go. Her eyes — when I look I always see them,” he said.
That didn’t stop him from using but it was a step forward. He became a media darling at U.S. race tracks. Everyone wanted to write about and photograph the wheelchair-bound horse trainer, who would hose down his wheels every night so his chair wouldn’t smell of manure. It was through that publicity that two kids from Delaware sought him out for a conversation. They shared experiences over a few hours and when they left one said to him: “You should be doing something else with your life.”
Another step.
Bouvier finally walked away from his best friend in the late ‘80s. He was in a Garden State Park, New York tack room talking with a friend about getting cocaine and he thought: “I can’t do this anymore.” He now says: “I can’t explain it.” In the years that followed he worked racing in Quebec, finished his high-school education, moved back to B.C. and graduated in 1991 from Douglas College with a degree in the Child and Youth Care Counselling program.
He was the director of a youth crisis intervention program in California for five years before he took over as executive director of PoCoMo Youth Services Society, an outreach program for troubled teens in the Tri-Cities. He works on a shoestring budget, is constantly applying for grants and asking for money because he has no core funding. It’s important work, he says, he just wishes someone would notice and relieve some of his financial pressure. “Twelve to 18 is the forgotten population. We’re losing kids,” he says. “It’s not okay.” Bouvier says he’s been blessed to see life from two perspectives in one lifetime.
“(I was) a middle-class white boy, standing up, had the whole world in front of me. Didn’t know what racism was, didn’t know what discrimination was,” he said “And then to do it from a chair? All of a sudden I was less than, I was excluded, not able to get into places.” He says that next to life’s wounds are the gifts and he’s learned many things about the power of the human spirit. “The power is inside ourselves to stand up to adversity, to move forward,” he said. “I think a lot of us forget that and sometimes we have to be reminded that we are powerful.”
News 1130’s John Ackermann profiles Jerome Bouvier. Listen >
Amanda Schell learned early on to ignore or explain away the voices in her head and later to try to drown them out with alcohol and drugs, living for years in fear, shame and denial. Decades later, she learned she suffers from schizophrenia and has come to use all her experiences, good and bad, to help others with mental illness. Her work raising awareness about mental illness within the Vancouver Coastal Health Authority has earned her the Courage to Come Back award.
"If I knew back then what I know now, it wouldn't have been so scary," said Schell, 41, who lives with her husband of 23 years and their two sons in Squamish, where she works as a part-time head cashier for a chain store. She's philosophical about her recovery. "It gives me a sense of purpose and an understanding that everything happens for a reason. And I now know this was God's plan for me all along," she said. "I hope I can inspire someone else."
From her Squamish office overlooking the mountains, Schell recalls how, as early as Grade 1 or 2, she'd wake up thinking her room was filled with ghosts, skeletons and spiders. She'd hide under the blankets and wouldn't tell a soul. She had her first auditory hallucination at age 12 on a canoe trip. She was on the way to the washroom in the middle of the night when she heard a woman singing a haunting melody and could hear the twigs rustling in the woods. When she shared her terror with her camping pals, they concluded she'd heard a ghost.
As if there was always a party in the other room, the voices and noises became more frequent until she was forced to get help. Schell was adopted and grew up in a loving, religious family near Toronto.
But her illness had her believing she had psychic powers or was being pursued by demons, and she had difficulties concentrating at school. She was bullied. When she was 16, her solution was to run away from home to live in Toronto. She didn't have contact with her parents for three years. "I didn't want them to worry," she said, wiping away tears. She soon learned her McDonald's job wages didn't go far. She ended up at a youth hostel and working at a bar after lying about her age. "I got a sense of belonging in the bars, of fitting in," she said. "I started drinking every day, using drugs every day."
Schell moved to Sarnia, Ont., at 17, after meeting her future husband, John, at a David Wilcox concert. Within a year, they got custody of John's son Johnny, married, and had two sons. Schell quit the drugs, alcohol and bar life to work in retail and raise her boys. She returned to church, but the hallucinations intensified. "I kept it to myself," she said. "That's part of the illness, the shame. But I would call my husband and tell him he's got to come home because the stereo's haunted. He didn't really understand what was going on." Then one day John called the pastor to say Schell thought Jesus was telling her she was better off not knowing Him. On the pastor's advice she got help for the first time, at age 23 and pregnant with her second child.
She spent two weeks in a psych ward in Sarnia, and left with meds and no insight into what was happening. "I told them what they wanted to hear so I could leave," she said, believing the medical staff to be part of a conspiracy to harm her. She stopped taking the meds when she got home because she was pregnant and the hallucinations became visual. "I was seeing coloured fireballs shooting through the sky," she said.
After moving to Squamish 16 years ago, Schell ended up in the psych ward again, the first of many times, and was for the first time diagnosed as schizophrenic. "I was scared," she said. "No one explained to me what it was. All I knew about it was what I had heard on horror movies and from campground ghost stories. I thought I was being punished." She eventually got a case worker and psychiatrist, and began the long, slow recovery. "I started getting my emotions back," she said. "Before that, everything was flat." Before long, Schell was volunteering at the drop-in centre and advocating for more mental-health services in Squamish.When the voices became less frequent, she stepped up her advocacy, talking publicly about her illness to help others. She also returned to one of her favourite pastimes, singing karaoke, and landed a part-time job hosting karaoke at the local pub. She started to fit into the community and felt accepted, liked and loved. Her new tools helped her through the grief of losing their eldest son, Johnny, who drowned, and she emerged with renewed resolve to tackle her advocacy role.
She earned her high-school degree, trained as a peer support worker and eventually ran a peer support program in Squamish. She is able to reach out and tell her story to others by speaking to high-school students to try to dispel some of the stigma and shame around mental illness. Through her work, Schell discovered her knack for detailed multitasking necessary for the events she organizes, a skill noted in her letters of support: "She is a great communicator and is very detailed and organized," said Denise Rittberg of the Rotary Club. She has a huge capacity for planning ahead, organizing and following through," said Angela Guy of Squamish Mental Health and Addictions. "Put her behind a microphone and stand back -because Amanda becomes Amanda the entertainer," said Giovanna Zammit of Vancouver Coastal Health.
News 1130's John Ackermann profiles Amanda Schell. Listen >
Victoria Waters knew the decision to go public about the years of sexual abuse she endured at the hands of her guardian uncle was going to be difficult, especially since he was a prominent businessman in the East Indian community in Chilliwack. But she knew she would have to endure the public scrutiny of her life as a childhood victim of sexual abuse to shine a light on her family's dark secret and move past the pain. "You really have to leave your dignity at the door of the courtroom," said Waters, 54, who lives in Nelson with her husband and two daughters. "I turned myself inside out."
How she was able to cope with her abusive past, and to show others they can do the same, has earned Waters the Courage to Come Back Award in the social-adversity category. Her story, sadly, isn't finished. Waters is still fighting to collect more than $400,000, which the courts awarded her three years ago.
Despite B.C. Supreme Court Justice Nancy Morrison praising Waters' courage in bringing her uncle Joginder Singh Bains and his wife Darshan to court, and finding him liable for repeated assaults on Waters, the Bainses refuse to pay. Waters was discouraged to learn it was up to her to pursue collection in the civil court system. "Victims shouldn't be left to try to collect from their abusers," she said. Waters, who was given the name Victoria at birth by hospital nurses before receiving her Sikh name, Karamjeet Kour Singh, lost her mother in a car accident when she was young.
She and a younger brother were sent by their father to live with Bains, a prominent Sikh leader in the Fraser Valley, when she was nine. The abuse, which included beatings and oral and anal sex, lasted until she left the home after graduating high school. When, as a 12-year-old, she begged her aunt not to leave her alone with her uncle because of his abuse, the aunt, aided by the girl's grandmother, responded by taking her to have a contraceptive device fitted.
Waters said she made the decision to sue her uncle and aunt because she realized she wasn't alone and hoped her example would inspire others to do the same. "My lawyer's been contacted by South Asian women," she said. "He told me he still gets calls because of my case." Waters said she supports a proposal to pass the Uniform Civil Enforcement of Money Judgments Act by the B.C. Law Reform Group, which calls the system for enforcing money judgments in B.C. "archaic, fragmentary and inefficient." She also has publicly spoken about her case.
Her daughter, Kaitlind Waters, who nominated her mother for the award, said, "[My mother is a] woman who courageously stood up to her family in the name of justice . . . and who has devoted her time, energy and heart and soul to being the voice of others who have suffered from childhood sexual abuse. "This subject is not only taboo in her South Asian background, it is a difficult subject for most victims to talk about," she added.
When Waters spoke at a forum on the issue of violence against women in the South Asian community, despite several Sikh elders from trying to stop her, she received a standing ovation. There was a long lineup of women who wanted to share their stories with her afterwards.
"As my mother took the patience and time to chat with them privately, I could see the look on their faces of relief," said Kaitlind. Waters said she needs to collect on the judgment to have closure because winning a public case against her uncle and aunt wasn't enough. "The only thing that hurts them is the money," she said.
Five years after an Afghani teenager attacked Capt. Trevor Greene’s head with an axe, Greene is still alive and still making a difference in the world, despite what doctors predicted at the time. Not only did Greene survive, against all odds he came out of a coma. Against all odds he avoided being left in a vegetative state. Against all odds, he has been able to stand on his own. He wants one day to walk again. Greene’s determined forward march in his recovery against his massive brain injury has earned him the 2011 award in the physical rehabilitation category.
“Anything is possible,” he said. “My story is going to show people how much is possible.” Life changed dramatically for Greene on March 4, 2006, in a village outside of Khandahar, Afghanistan, where he was preparing to speak with elders about how the Canadian army was there to help rebuild their country by constructing wells, schools and roads. He had removed his helmet as a sign of respect. The athletic former journalist and published author of two books, who is also fluent in French and Japanese, is now on a different path, which involves two and a half hours a day of physical rehabilitation.
“I call it a marathon of baby steps,” said Greene by phone from his Nanaimo home, which he shares with his new wife, Deborah, and their six-year-old daughter, Grace. The marathon began in a U.S. military hospital in Germany, where he had several brain surgeries to remove bone. It continued at Vancouver General Hospital, where over a year he had several surgeries to rebuild his skull. He almost died several times from blood clots, bacterial infections and pneumonia.
Doctors saw no hope for him to improve and recommended Deborah find a care facility for him. He was turned down by G.F. Strong Rehabilitation Centre because it wasn’t prepared for the level of nursing care he would require.
Undeterred, the couple and their daughter Grace moved to Ponoka, Alta., so he could rehab at the world-renown Halvar Jonson Centre for Brain Injury. Greene spent 14 gruelling months in Ponoka learning again to speak, smile and move his arms and hands before moving to Nanaimo. Now he pushes himself physically with the help of Deborah, his physiotherapist and an occupational therapist to make progress through endless repetitive movements. His goals are “just to increase what I did before. If I (stand) for eight minutes, I want to go for nine minutes.”
“I’m doing more things now, squats, reaching for things, balancing,” he said. A year ago, he wheeled his own wheelchair for the first time in the Paralympic torch relay. His big goal was to stand at the altar to marry Deborah, whom he met in 2001. Last July 24, they exchanged vows, Greene standing with the support of parallel bars, in front of 120 family and friends in Nanaimo. He also stood for their first dance, “You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate. His recovery is being studied by researchers who are monitoring with MRIs how his brain activity is being changed by his incremental progress years after his injury. HIs recovery challenges conventional scientific wisdom that most progress is made in the first few months after a brain injury.
Greene also speaks and corresponds with children about what he still believes is the importance of Canada’s mission in the troubled country. “I would like the opportunity to go back and teach the children,” said Greene, who has set up a foundation to help education. He totally absolves the youth who attacked him of any responsibility, blaming instead the Taliban for influencing him and recruiting him for their cause. “He was probably poor,” said Greene of the teen who was shot dead at the scene by Canadian soldiers. “He was one of the people I was supposed to help. The Taliban got to him first. If I had got to him first, I could have got him an education.”
Greene, who has been honoured with the Sacrifice Medal from the Governor General and has accepted the role of reviewing officer in an upcoming cadet parade, is grateful that his life has been spared.
“I’m lucky to be alive, I recognize that,” he said. “I want to give back to acknowledge that.” Next up, he and Deborah are writing a book about his experience to help others. And this award is likely not the last chapter that will be written about Greene’s accomplishments.
Growing up in an abusive and neglectful home with a heroin-addicted mother took its toll on a young Curtis Baldwinson; he was denied even basic amenities such as sufficient food, clean clothing or parental love and warmth.His sister, Raquel Baldwinson, older by six years, recalled how she gave Curtis, then five, her plate of canned corned beef for dinner and hours later he came to her room. “He was crying out of guilt and gratitude that he had eaten food that I was going to eat,” she said. The abuse and neglect culminated in Curtis’s inability to socialize or even learn to read when he entered Grade 1, which led to his mother losing custody and he and his four older siblings moving in with their father.
The doctors soon diagnosed Curtis with chronic depression and ADHD and he was prescribed heavy medication and began to heal. More than 10 years later, Curtis, now a 17-year-old Grade 12 student who advocates for gay youth and helps run a drop-in centre and school club for gay teens, has earned a Courage to Come Back award in the youth category.
“He is committed to helping youth grow and develop as individuals,” said Raquel in her nomination letter. “Curtis made things change because he was courageous enough to brave his wounds to the world and offer himself in pursuit of what he believes is right.” Curtis said he was pleased and surprised to be the recipient of the reward and hopes it can help others. “The name itself is an honour because a lot of people have struggles and they buckle under the stress and this award is for the people who have the courage to come back,” he said.“It inspires me that other people draw support from me,” he said.
Curtis and his four older siblings (he also has two young half-brothers) grew up in Surrey in a home marked by abuse, manipulation, unpredictability and even danger. When he entered elementary school, he cowered from the loud noise of the school bell and would spend most days in the disabled students room because teachers didn’t know what to do with him. After the school janitor, who used to secretly feed the severely underweight Curtis, started to ask questions, Social Services was eventually called. Curtis spent much time on the computer from the age of seven to 10, learning computer programming, and taught himself to build his own website, an online community for gamers who invented their own games to swap ideas and socialize. He also taught himself to figure skate and took piano lessons and learned how to compose his own music.
By age 15, he relapsed into depression after discovering he was gay and enduring the tragedy of his mother falling into a coma after overdosing on drugs. He was suicidal. His family sent him to a counsellor and Curtis made what his sister called the “difficult decision” to come out as a gay teen and to transfer to another high school because of perceived hostility at his old school. He then found a supportive club of other gay teens, called GAB, in Vancouver’s West End, where he was welcomed and now helps others to feel like they belong and organizes dances and events. “When I first went there two years ago, I was super scared and was clinging on to the volunteer’s arm,” he said.
“My goal is to be there for the youth who are now coming in. The most powerful thing I can do is to influence these youth.” He also felt accepted as an openly gay student at Semiahmoo Secondary in South Surrey, near where he lives with his father, stepmother and two half-brothers. He and two other students founded a lunchtime drop-in club for gay students called GLOW, for “gay, lesbian or whatever.” He continues to do computer programming and has just been accepted into BCIT’s Computer Systems Technology program, where he plans to enroll in September.
The day Dr. Graham Bryce's life changed forever, in December 2000, he recalled cycling into work, as he usually did, at St. Paul's Hospital in Vancouver, where he was head of the otorhinology division. He was a 44-year-old fit and healthy father of three school-age girls and as an ear, nose and throat surgeon, had a thriving practice, specializing in ear disease, which included performing cochlear implants. "I was seeing the last patient and I was sitting on a wheeled stool and I just dropped to the floor," he said in the living room of his Vancouver home he shares with his wife, also a doctor. "Next thing I knew I was lying on the floor and I could hear the call for a 'code-blue' emergency resuscitation, he recalled.
"I remember thinking I was too young for this, that the code blue couldn't have been for me," he said. "I said to one of my colleagues, 'If you could just help me up.'" He had suffered a stroke caused by an infection and the blood supply was cut of to part of his brain. He needed surgery to have most of the right side of his brain removed, which has limited mobility on the left side of his body and ended his career as a surgeon. No longer licensed to practice medicine, Bryce spends his time advocating for hearing health, mostly on a volunteer basis, which has earned him a Courage to Come Back Award in the medical category. "I've had to build a whole new life," he said. "It was a change in my identity. My life is very different from what I anticipated. People don't anticipate this happening and until you're there and you face whatever challenges, you don't know how you're going to respond."
He quoted former B.C. premier Mike Harcourt, who was partially disabled when he injured his spine in a fall from his cottage deck years ago. "He calls it Plan B. It's my Plan B. I have a good life but it's different. "I have a wonderful family and have lots of good people in my life and things that I value to do," he said.
Before his stroke, Bryce loved windsurfing, skiing, fishing and other active pursuits with his family, and he was at the peak of his professional career. After surgery, he spent months at the G.F. Strong Rehabilitation Centre before continuing physiotherapy after he returned home, which had been adapted for his return.
He returned to work, at first driven by family members, for reduced hours at St. Paul's ear, nose and throat clinic in an advocacy role, using a wheelchair to get around. Through countless hours of physiotherapy, he eventually was able to walk and increase his hours at work to halftime, wrote Dr. Brian Westerberg, a colleague, in a letter supporting Bryce's nomination. "It was during these early months after his return that Dr. Bryce's remarkable strength of character became evident to us all," he said.
He helped launch the early hearing program in B.C. that ensures that every baby's hearing be screened at birth and another program designed to prevent the epidemic of noise-induced hearing loss, he said. His colleagues were "awed" by his serving as a role model and inspiration to younger and older doctors, said Westerberg. Bryce also became a board member for the Western Institute for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing, where he worked "endless hours" to help the hard of hearing to improve their communication and access to society, said the institute's executive director, Susan Masters, in her letter supporting his nomination. Despite left-side paralysis and loss of vision in his left eye, Bryce continued work he had begun before his stroke, chairing the fundraising committee for the B.C. Family Hearing Resource Society, became involved in the Balance and Dizziness Society and joined the University of B.C.'s faculty of medicine teaching ethics and the community. He is also on the board of directors for the Greater Vancouver Community Services Society.
His recovery hasn't been without problems: In 2003, he broke his femur trying to ski with the handicapped ski association. A year ago he was hit by a car crossing at a crosswalk and thrown from his chair, breaking his ankle. But in a few months he was soon back up to recording 4,000 steps a day on his pedometer. He plays tennis in an adapted chair and gets around by himself using transit in one of his six wheelchairs. "I used to collect boats, now I collect wheelchairs," he said. Bryce is content and accepting of his role, although he doesn't go so far as to say he's grateful for his stroke. "There's no question there has been a spiritual and values-based quest that has been an important part of my recovery," he said. "But I object to the concept that this has improved my life," he said, as some people who face and overcome adversity say they welcome the adversity for what it gave to them. "I really appreciated life before," he said. "I don't honestly believe I needed a stroke to become a better person."
But he said his life's focus has changed. "Early in my life, at the end of Plan A, I was fairly accomplished and focused on school, professional training and belonging to the whole medical profession and trying to do well," he said. "I'm less focused on personal achievement and more on the appreciation of life. I appreciate and feel best about life when I can help others." He said he also appreciates the flexibility he has to pursue what he chooses to be involved with. He also realizes that he is more fortunate than most in that he has the financial freedom, thanks to adequate insurance and the support of his wife. He says his story is proof that adversity can strike anyone. He's honoured by the Courage to Come Back Award, one that he was aware of and supported before his stroke.
"I valued the fact that the foundation recognizes people for their struggle for overcoming adversity," he said. And he's grateful for the support of his wife and girls, whose lives changed just as much as his did. "We'd been married for 18 years when I had the stroke and it was a huge burden for my wife," he said. "Our life was so radically different in every way and she's overcome that burden so incredibly well. My family is the biggest part of Plan B."
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Youth Recipient Fahreen Mapara |
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Social Adversity Recipient Myrna Cranmer |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Mark Ash |
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Mental Health Recipient Theresa Duggan |
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Medical Recipient Cindy Thomsen |
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Addiction Recipient Starr Peardon |
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Youth Recipient Jessica Brimacombe |
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Social Adversity Recipient Becki Wyer |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Vivian Garcia |
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Mental Health Recipient Tina Tomashiro |
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Medical Recipient Lori Slater |
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Addiction Recipient Helen Burnham |
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Youth Recipient Michael Childs |
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Social Adversity Recipient Trisha Baptie |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient John Banovich |
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Mental Health Recipient Debbie Sesula |
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Medical Recipient Zosia Ettenberg |
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Addiction Recipient Marlene Swift |
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Youth Recipient Kaytee Tuomola |
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Social Adversity Recipient Leslie Nelson |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Merle Smith |
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Mental Health Recipient Loyanne McCuaig |
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Medical Recipient John Morrison |
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Addiction Recipient Hersh Abramson |
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First Recipient of a Special Courage To Come Back Award Sam Sullivan |
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Youth Recipient Jeneece Edroff |
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Inspirational Achievement Recipient Gladys Evoy |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Jamie Waterlow |
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Mental Health Recipient Renea Mohammed |
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Medical Recipient Kim Black |
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Addiction Recipient Randy Miller |
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Youth Recipient Emily White |
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Inspirational Achievement Recipient Halldor Bjarnason |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Johanna Johnson |
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Mental Health Recipient Donald Fraser |
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General Medicine Recipient Melanie Carlbeck |
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Chemical Dependency Recipient Lora Johnston- Corbett |
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Youth Recipient Stephanie David |
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Social/Economic Adversity Recipient Florence Rickards |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Geoff McMurchy |
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Mental Health Recipient Mary Graham |
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General Medicine Recipient Lori Wikdahl |
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Chemical Dependency Recipient Rodney Fregin |
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Youth Recipient Hardeep Bath |
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Social/Economic Adversity Recipient Blanche Anderson |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Robb Dunfield |
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Mental Health Recipient Jill Stainsby |
| General Medicine Recipient Jacqueline Pope |
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Chemical Dependency Recipient Joe Roberts |
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Youth Recipient Kelsey Kilburn |
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Social/Economic Adversity Recipient Yvonne Sutton- Fregin |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Randy Herman |
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Mental Health Recipient Punkaj Bhushan |
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General Medicine Recipient Cheryl Brown |
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Chemical Dependency Recipient Jade Bell |
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Youth Recipient Patrick Baynham |
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Economic Adversity Recipient Freda Ens |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Mary Williams |
Mental Health Recipient Penny Keene |
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General Medicine Recipient Kristy Coueffin |
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Chemical Dependency Recipient Fred Milne |
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Youth Recipient Natalie Lachowicz |
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Economic Adversity Recipient Carol Dauphinais |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Sherry Caves |
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Mental Health Recipient Paul McGillicuddy |
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General Medicine Recipient Karilyn Walker |
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Chemical Dependency Recipient Dorothy Ward |
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Economic Adversity Recipient Pamela Andrews |
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Mental Health Recipient April Porter |
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Physical Rehabilitation Recipient Tina Suter |
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Chemical Dependency Recipient Andre Spencer |
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General Medicine Recipient Lorne Kimber |