This blog is dedicated to:

David Nathaniel McNinch

David was my best friend in kindergarten; we used to walk to school and home together, amazing me with his talk of science experiments. I particularly loved the penny experiments, especially the one where he put a penny in a solution and the solution dissolved the inside, leaving just the outside shell of the penny.

How cool is that?

David and I would also talk extensively about his health….

David had cystic fibrosis and said he wasn’t expected to live past 21 years old.

By now, even though I had spent my fair share amount of time at doctor’s offices getting ‘pink medicine’, at the time I didn’t think I was abnormal, let alone with a rare genetic disorder as well.

In fact, I wouldn’t even see how abnormal I truly am until the fall of 2005, when I crashed into Cedars-Sinai desperately ill, frustrated and confused by doctors not understanding how ‘normal’ it was for me to have infections without an elevated white cell blood count or a fever.

Why do they keep looking at me like I’m crazy?

I was 30 years old in the fall of 2005, barely clinging on to life, before I finally realized the extent of the seriousness of my health situation…then it would be another 6-7 years before I realized there wasn’t much of a solution either… I was gonna have to live on a diet of antibiotics, immunoglobulin,

and a feast of doctors who genuinely love medicine.

Back in 1980,

David would talk to me about his condition…how it was genetic…that there was no cure but he had treatments,

so he was optimistic he was gonna make it to 21.

As often what happens with children and families,

I moved to Toronto, then to Virginia where my health memories really start to begin.

But I never forgot David, and I would read about cystic fibrosis whenever I could, hoping that advancements in medicine had caught up in time to help him.

Then around my 21st birthday, I tracked down his father (not easy in the pre-internet days of 1996, plenty of persistent phone calls to 411),

and eventually I connected with his father, Walter McNinch.

“Hello…um…I’m Tara M*****, I went to W.E Johnson in Kanata…David was my best friend…I was wondering how he was doing.”

Frozen.

Oh no…

“Well, uh, David passed away when he was 11 years old.”

11 —> 1986?

“His body hit puberty really hard, and he couldn’t keep up, so his body gave out on him.”

Tears streaming down my face. Ten years ago felt like yesterday.

“I’m really really sorry for calling…David was truly my best friend, we used to talk about science and his health a lot”.

“Yes, I remember David talking about you.”

I’m not sure if that was true, but I *really* appreciated Mr. McNinch saying that.

After a few more exchanges of memories and details regarding his passing,

we hung up the phone.

What David taught me — a lesson that would become absolutely essential to living life with a painful chronic illness — the reason I dedicate this blog to him —

David taught me how to hold my head high while suffering immensely, the importance of enjoying each day no matter which obstacles present themselves, to seize hold of our pennies of knowledge and celebrate their value and appreciate their wisdom.

David taught me by example it’s okay to be in pain and to love life at the same time.

To be grateful for the life we have to live,

and even though some of us pay a higher price to stay breathing,

we can all still play together.

In our kindergarten walks,

I had no idea how similar David and I were, how much the memories of his bravery and strength of his character would carry me through some of the truly horrific medical experiences I would come to endure over the years…

David was a gift, a glow of humility, patience, power and persistence, a treasure I’m still receiving today.