Olivia’s Story
I still remember the sound Olivia made that night. She wasn’t crying — just a strange, persistent noise.
She was two months old. And deep down, I knew. Something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
I was tired, anxious, and starting to feel like maybe I was overreacting. We’d already been in and out of hospitals with no clear answers. But that night — that night changed everything.
We rushed her to the ER at Health Sciences North, and things went from bad to worse so fast. She started losing consciousness. Her little body was shutting down.
Suddenly, the room filled with doctors and nurses trying to save her. I remember Dr. Murray looking at me and saying, “I don’t know if she’s going to make it.” Her hemoglobin was 20. It should’ve been 120.
It was the worst night of my life.
And then…They saved her.
Because of the care at Health Sciences North, Olivia survived.
Eventually, she was diagnosed with Diamond-Blackfan Anemia. It’s extremely rare. Olivia’s body doesn’t produce red blood cells, so she needs a blood transfusion every 3 to 4 weeks for the rest of her life.
That kind of diagnosis could have meant constant travel to Toronto. Missed school. Missed work. A childhood built around hospital visits.
But because of your support, that’s not what happened.
Olivia’s care team at HSN found ways to keep her specialized treatments in Sudbury. It means she gets to be home with her siblings. I don’t have to take weeks off work. And she doesn’t feel like a patient — she feels like a kid.
She’s growing. She’s laughing. She’s living.
Because of the staff — especially Nurse Sharri — Olivia no longer dreads treatment. She looks forward to it. There are pyjama days. Toys. Halloween decorations. Friends.
They helped normalize her treatments. For Olivia, it’s become like going on a playdate.
I couldn’t save my daughter. But HSN could. And you can help them save the next patient, too.
Your donation makes it possible for more patients to receive care close to home. You help Olivia and our family feel normal amidst a life dependent on the hospital.
I don’t know what would’ve happened if we had to travel for every appointment. I don’t know how many jobs I would have lost. How many moments Olivia would have missed, or how her siblings would have coped.
What I do know is this: because of HSN, she’s still here. And I still get to be her mom.