CTV National News: P.E.I. strawberry growers battle devastating plant disease
CTV's Maria Sarrouh reports on a serious disease threatening P.E.I.'s strawberry crops, affecting everything from root to fruit.
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CTV News
32 minutes ago
- CTV News
B.C. man to solo kayak over 700 kilometres on Columbia River to raise awareness for mental health
Darcy Kindred plans to kayak over 725 kilometres along the Columbia River to raise awareness for mental health issues. For Darcy Kindred, being in a kayak on one of B.C.'s many beautiful lakes or rivers, provides a level of solace so profound he deems it a form of therapy. For the final few weeks of July, Kindred will be paddling more than 725 kilometres along the Columbia River to try and raise awareness of and reduce the stigma surrounding mental health issues. The Chilliwack resident says he hopes the Paddle Forward campaign, part of a planned long-term mental health movement, will encourage those who are facing the same battles he has experienced to take to the water themselves and seek out help when it's needed. 'The biggest message that I want to tell people is that you are not alone, and as soon as you ask for help, it's going to be like a big, heavy, wet blanket off your back,' he says. The 21-day expedition will kick off July 9 as Kindred departs Canal Flats, a village in the East Kootenay region, before rounding off in the West Kootenay community of Castlegar July 31. Darcy Kindred launches Paddle Foward campaign Kindred's journey will span 21 days, starting July 9, and will start in Castle Flats before ending near Castlegar. He plans to document the journey as he goes, publishing daily video diaries to social media that detail the things he has seen and experienced – from the scenery and the wildlife to the challenges faced – and offer insights into his own experience working towards better mental health. Kindred's own decision to seek help came after years of mental angst triggered by the COVID-19 pandemic and a high-stress career in the financial sector. 'We were living up in Kamloops at the time, and I was on my quad and quadding through the bush, and all of a sudden, I hopped off my quad and sat back against a tree and had a cry for about two hours,' he says. 'At that point, my thought process was that I was going to enjoy the summer with my wife, take her on her dream vacation, and then when we got back from that in the fall, I was going to commit suicide.' Kindred credits his wife of six years, Caralee, for saving his life after she discovered his plan and pushed him to get help. The healing journey was a 'slow, tough process' at first that involved medication and therapy, but was improved remarkably last year when Caralee, knowing her husband's love for the great outdoors, purchased on a whim a set of old kayaks their neighbours had listed for sale. 'I picked them up, and I went out that night for the first time, and within the first five minutes I felt great, and I really felt like I found something that would help me heal,' says Kindred. Darcy Kindred launches Paddle Foward campaign Kindred relies on kayaking as a tool in his journey towards better mental health. After a few months on the water Kindred's idea for his 'epic journey' began to form: He would kayak a 550 kilometre trip for his 55th birthday, because '10 kilometers per year ought to be enough to contemplate life and what (I've been) through,' he says. The idea evolved into a fully fledged campaign that would see him tackle more kilometres with the hope of raising funds for mental health charities, Centre for Suicide Prevention, based in Calgary, and We Are Unsinkable. With plans to tackle 35 to 40 kilometres a day to stay on schedule, amounting to seven to eight hours of paddling, Kindred says he knows the journey will be tough, but that thoughts of the hundreds suffering the same battles he has endured will ensure he keeps going. 'The Canadian Mental Health Association says that at any point in time, one in five Canadians is suffering from some sort of mental angst or trauma. We've got 45 million people, so that's 9 million people in Canada at any point in time,' says Kindred. He says the 725 kilometres planned for his trip will amount to around 300,000 paddle strokes, and that every paddle stroke will represent 30 people that are suffering, just in Canada alone. 'It's very motivating as to why I need to do this,' he says. 'That's why it's important.'
CTV News
3 hours ago
- CTV News
Montreal about to be hit with another heat warning
A boy and girl dunk their heads in a water fountain during a heat wave in Montreal, Monday, July 2, 2018. (THE CANADIAN PRESS/Graham Hughes) Environment Canada has issued a heat warning for southern Quebec starting Sunday afternoon. Those in the greater Montreal area can expect the humidex to reach 40 degrees, it said. The agency recommends planning your day around the cooler periods, staying hydrated, using air conditioners and fans, and moving to cooler spaces like malls, libraries, and shaded parks to avoid heatstroke. It is recommended to avoid direct exposure to the sun and heat, to wear lightweight clothes and hats when outside. Environment Canada also urges those who are around people at greater risk of heat illness — like seniors, those living alone, and other at-risk people — to check in multiple times a day. Children and pets should not be left alone in parked vehicles. Signs of heat exhaustion may include a headache, nausea, dizziness, thirst, dark urine and intense fatigue. Heat stroke, which is a medical emergency, often manifests as red and hot skin, dizziness, nausea, confusion and change in consciousness. If you suspect that you or a loved one is experiencing heat-related illness, Environment Canada advises calling emergency services.
Globe and Mail
6 hours ago
- Globe and Mail
This extraordinary gift from a living organ donor has changed my life
First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at On May 7, 2024, I found the One. Or rather, the One found me. I'm not talking about a soulmate to ride off into the sunset with, I'm talking about an organ donor. That was the day I was told that a match had been found, and I was going to receive my life-saving liver transplant. For more than 12 years I had been living with a rare liver disease and for the past 11 months had been urgently searching for a living donor – some remarkable person willing to give me part of their liver so that I could survive. The need for organs vastly exceeds the supply. Despite being on the transplant waitlist, my blood type and the nature of my disease meant that I was going to die on that list. My only hope was to find a match among the living. I wrote about my desperate situation in The Globe and Mail and I explained that there were no matches within my family or friends, so I had to go public. The vulnerability of asking strangers for an organ felt unbearable – but it was a choice between life or death. My liver is turning to stone. I need a living donor, and soon We launched my campaign in November, 2023, on social media hoping it would be widely shared, and it was. My donor, Trisha, who lives in the United States, saw my appeal after it was shared by someone she went to high school with 20 years ago. She reached out to say that she couldn't stop thinking about my story, and in mid-March told me she had applied to be my donor. To say I was skeptical is +an understatement. My first thought was: I need a donor here, in Canada. But she was my first real hope and I didn't want to ask further questions. Here was this person with the same blood type and a willing spirit. We messaged a bit, and she told me she was coming to Toronto to undergo the next phase of testing. I was hesitant when she asked if I wanted to meet her when she was here. What if the testing ruled her out? What if she ultimately changed her mind? I didn't want to get attached. By April, my health had been rapidly declining for months and I was experiencing horrifying physical symptoms that would be the envy of nightmares, like spontaneous nosebleeds, jaundice and sever brain fog. I spent an entire week in the hospital's transplant unit trying to get stabilized – the same week she was also there getting the final tests. She asked if I wanted updates, and I did – I desperately did – but I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I was several floors up from her. I couldn't put that kind of pressure on her shoulders. If the doctors ruled her out as my donor, I didn't want her feeling like she had failed me when I was at a critical juncture. On her last night in Toronto, she told me all the tests went well, and it looked very promising that we would get the green light for transplant. We just had to wait for the transplant team to meet and discuss my case the following week. She again asked if I wanted to meet early the following day before her flight home. At that moment I realized even if she wasn't the One, I had to meet her because she had come farther for me than anyone else. I told her things had gotten worse and I was in the hospital. When she came to my room the next morning, I was so nervous as I sat on the edge of the bed waiting. I peeked outside my room and saw her coming around the corner. Without hesitation, I rushed up and threw my arms around her. I held her so tightly, afraid that if I let go, she might evaporate into mist, but she didn't. She was real. Flesh and blood and liver. In mid-June of last year, Trisha performed the miracle I needed: She brought me back to life. A life that is filled with gratitude, purpose and a perfect organ. Just past the one-year mark, it will never be lost on me how fortunate I am to have received this extraordinary gift. I asked her why she did this for a stranger, and she said, 'because someone needed to do it' and so she courageously did. This new liver is my most treasured possession and has let me resume teaching and researching in the art history department at the University of Toronto, spending time with the people I love, and advocating for organ donation awareness and education, especially living donation. During the waiting process, I began to refer to my future donor as my 'living donor angel.' Trisha later told me that while she now lives in the northwest, she was born and raised in Los Angeles. My living donor angel was literally from the City of Angels. I am in awe of the capacity of human kindness, and the synchronicities of the universe. Stephanie Azzarello lives in Toronto.
