The Unending Ripples of 9/11: My 25-Year Journey
from NDHQ to a Brain Cancer Victory. While I shared the news of my recent favourable
VRAB appeal outcome back in May, the approaching milestone today, has
brought a flood of memories back to the surface. On the 25th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, I have
a story to share that took a quarter of a century to fully write. On that fateful day, I was a Legal Officer in the
Canadian Forces serving as the Deputy Judge Advocate (DJA) Ottawa. My
office was in National Defence Headquarters (NDHQ). I remember the day vividly. It was a beautiful
morning in Ottawa, and on my way into the building, I had to cross a
picket line because one of the federal unions was on strike. Shortly after the first plane hit, a number of us
gathered around a television just in time to watch the second plane
impact. At some point during the chaos, the picket line quietly
dissolved. They didn’t return. On my way home that afternoon, I was walking to my
car in the Rideau Centre parking garage, in uniform. A distraught,
middle-aged woman ran up to me, desperately clutching my arm and asking,
“What do we do now?” In retrospect, I should have replied, “Keep calm and carry on,” but the T-shirts weren’t
out yet... By July 2002, I was deployed to Camp Mirage as part
of Operation Apollo—Canada’s military response to 9/11. I was the legal
advisor to a Canadian contingent headed by a full Colonel Logistics
Officer. We were operating RCAF aircraft, including a Hercules and a
CP-140 Aurora. The Herc handled strategic airlift, mostly into Kandahar,
Afghanistan, but also did runs into Kuwait City as the second Gulf War
began gearing up. The Aurora conducted long-range patrols. I was part of Roto 1, staying for about seven
months alongside roughly 250 personnel. On the first anniversary of
9/11, I found myself on the ground in Kandahar—but only for the day.
That is a story for another time. Fast forward to July 2023. I suffered a sudden
seizure at home, and my wife called emergency services. I was rushed by ambulance to the Ottawa General
Hospital. A CT scan revealed a mass in my brain. I woke up just long
enough to be told I was being transferred to the Civic campus, the
regional neurological centre. There, after an MRI, four days later, a
golf-ball-sized tumour was 100% resected with margins. The diagnosis was Glioblastoma (GBM), MGMT
methylated. It is the exact same, rare brain cancer that took Gord
Downie of The Tragically Hip and Neil Peart of Rush. It is terminal and
incurable. I underwent radiation and chemotherapy, and for now, I remain
stable, monitored by an MRI every three months. When I first met my oncologist, he told me the
causes of GBM are unknown and that I had done nothing to cause it. My
wife asked about a potential military service connection, but he wasn’t
aware of any. He gently advised me that I had 12 to 14 months to live. I
accepted the diagnosis and went about my business. A year or so later, I stumbled upon a Facebook
group for GBM patients. I learned that the US Veterans Affairs (VA) had
observed a 26% increase in GBM among veterans who served in Southwest
Asia, including the UAE where Camp Mirage was located. Because of this
evidence, the US government made GBM a "presumptive condition" under the
PACT Act. Armed with this information, I filed a claim with
Veterans Affairs Canada (VAC). I was denied. I appealed to the Veterans
Review and Appeal Board (VRAB). Denied again. I appealed the appeal. In the meantime, I began hearing about widows of
Canadian Armed Forces members whose husbands had served in Afghanistan,
developed GBM upon their return, and died before they could even apply
for benefits. One widow was actually referred to me by my own
oncologist, who by then knew about my VAC application. Moved by their stories, I started a Facebook
support group for CAF widows and members affected by GBM. Through that
network, I discovered that two members from my exact 2002
deployment—people I knew personally—had been diagnosed with GBM and had
already passed away. This tragic evidence allowed me to present an
apparent cluster to the appeal board, backed by a powerful supporting
letter from my oncologist. On May 8th of this year, I won my appeal. My
Glioblastoma has been ruled as entirely attributable to military service
in a Special Duty Area (SDA). Operation Apollo was part of the global
war on terror, initiated as a direct result of the 9/11 attacks. Am I now a survivor of 9/11? On this 25th
anniversary, these thoughts weigh heavier on me than ever before. My wife, who did her own tour at the Role 3
hospital at Kandahar Airfield, says I was the "ideal applicant" for this
landmark GBM decision. She is right, but for two heartbreaking reasons: 1. I didn’t die. Most veterans never get the chance
to advance their applications because they simply pass away too quickly. 2. I had legal training, which allowed me to
navigate the bureaucracy, gather evidence, and build a case. But this begs a fundamental question: A veteran
shouldn’t have to be a "blue ribbon" applicant to get justice. If a law
degree and surviving against the odds are what it takes to succeed, what
is the point of the system? Compare Canada to the US VA system. In the US, a
veteran satisfies just two criteria: proof of service in Southwest Asia,
and a GBM diagnosis. That’s it. "Soldier proof," as we like to say. That
said, now that I have a decision, I am very appreciative of the
assistance VAC is providing me. Meanwhile, VAC online papers indicate they "study"
conditions declared presumptive by peer countries like the US, UK,
Australia, and New Zealand. Yet, we see no actual policy change or
progress. Looking back 25 years ago today, I could never have
foreseen how the events of 9/11 would ripple through my life and the
lives of my family. Our kids were young when they watched both of their
parents deploy as a direct result of that day. There are so many others touched by that morning in
unforeseeable, devastating ways. These are the unending ripples through
our lives. Glioblastoma is an aggressive type of brain cancer that starts in cells called astrocytes, which support nerve cells. Because it begins in these glial cells, glioblastoma is part of a wider group of tumors called gliomas. Glioblastoma is the most common malignant form of glioma. It's the most common malignant brain tumor in adults and makes up about half of all malignant brain tumors in adults. For more information on Glioblastoma (GBM) and its symptoms click here: |