Deane Gorsline, Ottawa
Since my earliest memories, soldiers have fascinated me and the arduous journey to martial prowess enraptured me. My military career began in 2007, a week after graduating high school, when I left Quesnel, BC for basic training in St. Jean, Quebec. Following basic training, I went to the Royal Military College of Canada where I studied civil engineering and completed my training as a Combat Engineer Officer. Since that time, I have qualified as a Combat Diver and served in Afghanistan and many other things. I relished every opportunity to challenge myself and drive my body further than one thought possible. The pursuit of excellence in the profession of arms was my calling.
Alongside being a soldier, I have strived to be a faithful, loving, partner and husband. I met my beautiful wife, Danielle, in our last year of high school in 2007. We followed our own pursuits after graduation but our paths crossed again in 2012 and we began dating. Since then, Danielle has dealt with an overseas deployment, numerous multi-month-long exercises, and two postings. She has been my emotional rock and greatest supporter. Concurrently, she has completed her Ph.D. in microbiology and biotechnology, being recognized with multiple awards including the Governor Generals Gold Medal as the valedictorian of graduate students for her graduating class at the University of Alberta. We have a cat and a dog and we share a love of the outdoors. Backcountry trekking, mountain biking, ice climbing, and hunting are just a few of the activities we love to share. It is my conviction that we, as a couple, are at our best on a long arduous backcountry trek together. We have shared the pleasure of this experience on multiple trails. At the time of diagnosis, we had dreams of having a family and Danielle’s career was just blossoming. Now with my rapidly degenerating body, the outdoors is no longer something we can share. Danielle’s career has been paused to help care for me and maintain the household as every chore and household task that requires hands fall to her. The question of a family is beyond complex. Our collective dreams have been shattered by ALS.
On Christmas Eve of 2018, as Danielle and I sat in the cold, stark basement of the Ottawa Civic Hospital, we listened stoically as a neurologist diagnosed me with ALS. We had mentally prepared for the worst but hoped the weird muscle fasciculations and unexplained weakness in my hand could be attributed to nerve damage or a herniated disc from a lifetime of physicality and a decade of soldiering. Our hope that it was anything but ALS was wiped aside with a quiet finality from the neurologist explaining I had 2 to 5 years to live. A few silent tears rolled out of Danielle’s eyes as she shuffled some papers she was holding. I fidgeted nervously, attempting to control my breathing, heart rate, and pathetically welling eyes. As the diagnosis of ALS began to loom over me, Danielle began researching the latest treatment options and publications on ALS. She began to ask the neurologist about the latest peer-reviewed scientific papers presenting promising results from phase II and III clinical trials she had found. Her initiative made me feel hope; if we put in enough work and found enough drugs and therapies we could stack them together for a meaningful change to my life expectancy. I was proud of her work and how she had prepared us to ask intelligent questions. That flimsy life raft of hope was shattered as the diagnosing neurologist nonchalantly admitted to having zero knowledge of any of the scientific data surrounding the multitude of validated papers Danielle had brought in. From this, it was clear we would have to keep track of the latest therapeutic advances ourselves.
We left the hospital feeling empty and numb. On the drive home, Danielle asked if it was normal my neurologist did not know about numerous major clinical trials running out of other world-leading motor neuron disease clinics. I did not have an answer. I felt as though I had been sent home to enjoy what little remained of my independence until I eventually required hospitalization, slowly became a prisoner in my own body, and asphyxiated. Death is not foreign to me; as a soldier, I have contemplated my mortality frequently. However, to passively wait for death without fighting, regardless of the odds was an excruciatingly foreign concept. This was my first wake-up call on how fractured, uncoordinated and sometimes apathetic the health care system can be in the fight against ALS.
For me, the worst was explaining the news to my parents. I had only notified my parents of the potential of a serious medical condition two weeks prior. Seeing the pain on my mother’s face and the helplessness on my father’s face as their only child was handed a death sentence was painful. It made me sick to my stomach. For the rest of the week, we all tried to enjoy the holiday season and make it as normal as possible considering the circumstances. My father would comment on how my ice skating still looked good in a vain effort to console himself, despite the fact I was rapidly losing the ability to handwrite or tie my shoes. My father is one of the most disciplined and professional mentors I have ever had; however, this was foreign territory for him. I could see uncertainty in him for the first time in my life. The distress was visible in my mother as well; however, her spirit is relentless and she immediately began to research where the very best ALS clinic is in North America. Within a week, she had booked an appointment for me at the Massachusetts General Hospital with the head neurologist at the end of January. This was our family’s new hope.
The care and information Danielle and I received in Boston were superb. The neurologist was acutely aware of all meaningful and recent scientific developments within the motor neuron disease field. this information enables us to source new medication to fight for percentage points of increased life expectancy. this meeting bolstered our family’s hope and enabled us to plan our offense of action against the disease. Danielle and I left Boston with a renewed sense of purpose. One opportunity that was identified was a new mesenchymal stem cell procedure in Seoul, Korea. The treatment was the leading edge in clinical trials for ALS therapy development and I was able to pay to participate in their phase 3 clinical trial. In the following year, my family and I traveled to Korea on five occasions to facilitate three stem cell injections. Through analysis of anti-inflammatory biomarkers in my CSF and quantitative strength analysis, I obtained a cumulative total of 5 months reduction in disease progression. Albeit this came at a major cost to our family and I sustained arachnoiditis from the nine lumbar punctures I had in 2019 and am still battling the radiating nerve pain in my left leg. My family does not regret the cost of this endeavor because this was a way to genuinely fight this disease. As such, our mental health and resolve were reaffirmed through offensive action and our family’s pursuit of new therapies is ongoing with my current enrollment in a Phase 1 Clinical Trial with an exciting new antisense oligonucleotide (ASO) BIIB105 by Biogen in the Montreal Neurological Hospital.
Throughout my journey, I’ve met many people within the ALS community, including many wonderful volunteers and other people living with ALS. Through this community, I have begun to understand that science is not our only barrier to fighting this disease. Just because therapy has been scientifically validated to treat ALS doesn’t mean we will be able to access it before the disease takes our lives. Given this and as a member of this community, I have begun to take responsibility for my situation have become involved in advocacy. I’ve worked with the ALS Society of Canada and the federal ALS Caucus to address the needs of the ALS community with the Government of Canada. In June 2020 I was asked to lead the Ottawa Walk to End ALS and decided to haul my carcass around parliament for 29 hours and tried to solicit virtual participation by creating the ALS Burpee Challenge. To give patients a louder voice I co-founded the first pan-Canadian, patient-led advocacy group, ALS Action Canada and have done my best to bring patient voices to the table. Recently, I had the pleasure of chatting with the fine fellows of Sickboy Podcast to laugh in the face of adversity.
In the face of all of these challenges, it is difficult to remain positive yet we, the patients, are fighting for hope every day. We may be dying, but we still have families and hopes and dreams and are striving to find a way out of our dire circumstance. However, our efforts your support! Please see the ‘Take Action’ section of this webpage to find out how you can help in the Fight Against ALS.
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