In the years leading up, I had been disheartened to see that we had gone from being united in supporting our local healthcare heroes with pots and pans, to pointing fingers. Of course, the bad news and anger we saw online was not representative of the whole; many people still showed incredible compassion and empathy. Nonetheless, I was looking for a bright spot. I found one in the Victoria Hospitals Foundation, and the community that surrounded them. To me, it seemed as though they had developed some sort of emotional secret sauce. Foundation donors were giving extremely generously to the cause at a moment when logically you could have expected less support for our hospitals, given the attitudes we were hearing about all the time. It was greatly encouraging for me to see the community wrapping themselves around Royal Jubilee and Victoria General hospitals, shining a light on caregivers regardless. It was… hope.

Health of community has been a value of mine for many years. It has driven my passion for volunteerism, my career in the community college system, and my outlook on life. Growing up in a white family in Zambia, I had a very privileged upbringing. But I was also made deeply aware of the have and have-not world I was a part of. From my home, you could see a children’s hospital up on the side of a nearby mountain. Frequently, you would hear the sound of women’s voices in song, and you knew a child had died. For my mother, a nurse herself, this was a grieving experience. She taught me empathy and care for others in those days. Today, my daughter is also a nurse and continues this legacy of care. I am deeply proud. Serving as Chair of the Foundation is my way of honouring both my mother and my daughter.