My story is much like many Canadians, perhaps not that different from yours. My parents immigrated from The Netherlands in the 1950s, settling on a dairy farm. We grew up going to school, working on the farm, enjoying 4H and being part of the fabric of rural community.
With the physical strains of farm life, I never had to wonder about my mother’s aches and pains at the end of a long day. Struggling to rise from her chair, the complex realities of myotonic dystrophy had yet to dawn on me.
As a volunteer Fire Fighter, I became aware of Muscular Dystrophy Canada and their work with Canadian Fire Fighters, from coast to coast. However, my department had never really been involved as fundraising was less of a priority than firefighting.
So, what changed for the Fire Fighters in the village of Martintown? Well, it became personal.