My name is Mark, and I have a story to tell….

After eight months of waiting to see a specialist, Mark learned that the cartilage in his hip joints had almost completely worn away from advanced osteoarthritis. During the wait, he went from using one cane, to two. At 48, Mark would need hip replacement surgery. Continue reading

My name is Michael, and I have a story to tell….

When Michael woke, the strong smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils, and all he could see were the blurry outlines of tubes protruding from his bruised and broken body. It was 2008, and Michael, then 59, had no idea why he was there. The last thing he remembered was riding his motorcycle down the interstate. Continue reading

My name is Cynthia and I have a story to tell…

As the night bus pulled away from the station, Cynthia* sat with her young son beside her with only the clothes on their backs. They made their way towards Vancouver with the hope of starting a new life, away from the stalker in her home town.

Cynthia, 26, knew she and her son had to leave Grand Forks that night. “I decided it wasn’t safe for me. Even the cops said it wasn’t safe – that it was just better if I left.” Continue reading