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In the end, the single cause about which Joy Tomkinson cared the most and fought for the hardest may have eluded her.
A social activist who often advocated for her Greenboro neighbours’ tenants’ rights and who this summer organized a walkathon to raise funds for Harmony House, died on Tuesday afternoon, more than seven months after Joel, her service dog, was taken from her without even a moment to say goodbye.
She was 63.
Tomkinson, who suffered peripheral artery disease — a narrowing of her arteries — had undergone numerous bypass and double-bypass operations. In 2008, her right leg was amputated. In 2014, her left was removed. In between those amputations, in 2012, she acquired Joel, a Labrador-golden retriever mix, from the Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind.
“When Joel came into my life, it was like being independent,” she recalled last April. “I could go shopping. He could pick up things I drop. If I needed the phone, I’d say, ‘Go find the phone,’ and he’d go get it and bring it back to me.” Joel could transfer her laundry from the washer to the dryer, and bring it to her when it was done. He would tug at her jacket sleeve when she had difficulty removing it. He could pick a credit card or dime up off the floor.
“I sometimes say he’s better than a husband. He does everything except take out the garbage,” she joked. “He is my friend, my reason to wake up in the morning.”
Their four-year relationship came to an end last March when Joel developed an aversion to high-pitched sounds, including her smoke alarm. He was returned to CGDB for retraining, but when that failed, the organization elected to retire him. Tomkinson’s efforts to keep Joel as a companion pet were rebuffed, with CGDB citing her safety as their chief concern.
The decision blackened her spirits.
“You were my smile when I felt blue,” she wrote to Joel on Facebook in July, “you provided me with your loyal friendship each day. When I turn over in the morning your face began my day, your unconditional love gave me reason to go on when I could not. Taking care of you, walking where we used to walk, shopping for things that you loved, all now what used to make me happy providing care and love for you has been taken away and I feel like my life has been turned upside down. It’s been almost 102 days and I can’t stop thinking about you and how much I miss you and how my heart is so broken. I did not get to say goodbye my friend I do not know where you are or if you are looking for me to come and get you.”
Joy Tomkinson died without the opportunity to see or say goodbye to her former service dog, Joel.
Liana Gallant, a nurse with a BA in disability studies, befriended Tomkinson last spring when her story became public.
“Through the years, I’ve seen and heard many sad and difficult stories,” Gallant said. “This has been one of the more tragic, made so much worse because Joy’s suffering over these past months was so unnecessary.”
According to Tomkinson’s son, Matthew Stearns, his mother went to the hospital last month after experiencing a spike in her already-high chronic pain levels. Her diabetes was responsible for numerous satellite conditions, and doctors had difficulty determining exactly what was wrong. During her three-and-a-half-week stay, she fell out of her wheelchair while attempting to open a door. The subsequent injury to one of her stumps, beyond the initial swelling and bruising, wasn’t immediately apparent, and she was sent home.
“But it turns out that the insult to the body was too great,” explains Stearns. “That’s how they described it. Her body couldn’t deal with it properly, and things just started a cascading shutdown of her system.”
She was home for a week when a second fall from her wheelchair landed her, this past Sunday, back at the General, this time simply for such comfort measures as pain management.
Knowing the end was near, Stearns’s wife, Lise Varrette, suggested arranging a final visit between Tomkinson and Joel, but again, CGDB officials were not accommodating.
“First of all,” wrote Ted Mann, lawyer and vice-chair of CGDB’s board of directors, “our organization is saddened by the circumstances of our former client, Ms. Tomkinson, and our thoughts are with her and her family at this difficult time.
“Insofar as the request relayed by you is concerned,” he continued, “Joel was retired as an assistance dog several months ago and underwent a ‘career change.’ He was rehomed with a family well outside of the Ottawa area, where he permanently resides. Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind no longer has ownership of the dog, nor any control over or access to the dog, and … therefore has no means to be able to comply with the request being made.”
The explanation provided little solace to Tomkinson or her family.
“What’s that worth?” asked Stearns. “They knew what the right thing to do was, and they could have pulled out all the stops in an effort make anything happen. And it’s not the outcome that we’re fixed on. If they had said, ‘You know, we tried; we called the family three times,’ then you have some peace with that. But it was their disappointing response; that was the best they could come up with. It showed a lack of humanity, a lack of compassion, from an organization whose sole mandate is compassion.”
The family even suggested simply a Skype or Facetime call between Tomkinson and Joel, but the request fell on deaf ears.
Instead, a friend of Tomkinson’s who was familiar with her situation contacted the owners of Joel’s brother, Jigger, to ask if he might visit Joy in the hospital. On Monday, when Joy, who was in and out of lucidity, felt the dog’s head, she immediately responded ‘That’s not my dog!’
“We didn’t go in with a plan to say that it was or wasn’t Joel,” says Stearns. “But I think someone said ‘Joel’s here,’ when we brought Jigger in, so that kind of went off the rails.”
But moments later, as Jigger nuzzled Joy’s neck, she exclaimed “Oh, Joel! How did you get him here?”
“So it ended up being nice,” says Stearns. “It brought her some joy. It brought us all some joy, but it wasn’t the same. I mean. It’s for Joel, too. He’s a sentient being with his own life and his own relationships, and to not give him the opportunity …
“This is not the Clinton-Trump debates. It’s not global warming. It’s not nuclear war. But it is important to the people it’s important to, and it’s magnified because of all the other people it has the potential to affect.”
One of nine children born to Bud and Willa Paquette, Joy grew up in Ottawa where she attended Fisher Park High School. Wife of Bob Tomkinson and mother of three — Carrie, Matt and Chantal — and grandmother of seven, she was the glue that held her large extended family together, arranging Thanksgiving family picnics each year at Vincent Massey Park. By turns an artist, real-estate secretary, sign-painter and antiques vendor, Stearns remembers going out with her to garage sales on Saturday mornings.
“She always made everything an adventure for us. She was someone who embodied her name — Joy. She had an indomitable spirit and a great sense of joy.
“Right up to the end, she was always laughing, and despite the pain, she was always making jokes. She always put a positive spin on things. Her thing has always been, ‘Tomorrow will be better.’ Even when we were kids, she’d say, ‘Today may not be great, but tomorrow will be better.’”
Friends are invited to pay their respects on Tuesday, Nov. 22, from 6 to 9 p.m. at the Whelan Funeral Home, 515 Cooper St. A service of memory will also be held there at 11 a.m. on Wednesday.
bdeachman@postmedia.com
查看原文...
A social activist who often advocated for her Greenboro neighbours’ tenants’ rights and who this summer organized a walkathon to raise funds for Harmony House, died on Tuesday afternoon, more than seven months after Joel, her service dog, was taken from her without even a moment to say goodbye.
She was 63.
Tomkinson, who suffered peripheral artery disease — a narrowing of her arteries — had undergone numerous bypass and double-bypass operations. In 2008, her right leg was amputated. In 2014, her left was removed. In between those amputations, in 2012, she acquired Joel, a Labrador-golden retriever mix, from the Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind.
“When Joel came into my life, it was like being independent,” she recalled last April. “I could go shopping. He could pick up things I drop. If I needed the phone, I’d say, ‘Go find the phone,’ and he’d go get it and bring it back to me.” Joel could transfer her laundry from the washer to the dryer, and bring it to her when it was done. He would tug at her jacket sleeve when she had difficulty removing it. He could pick a credit card or dime up off the floor.
“I sometimes say he’s better than a husband. He does everything except take out the garbage,” she joked. “He is my friend, my reason to wake up in the morning.”
Their four-year relationship came to an end last March when Joel developed an aversion to high-pitched sounds, including her smoke alarm. He was returned to CGDB for retraining, but when that failed, the organization elected to retire him. Tomkinson’s efforts to keep Joel as a companion pet were rebuffed, with CGDB citing her safety as their chief concern.
The decision blackened her spirits.
“You were my smile when I felt blue,” she wrote to Joel on Facebook in July, “you provided me with your loyal friendship each day. When I turn over in the morning your face began my day, your unconditional love gave me reason to go on when I could not. Taking care of you, walking where we used to walk, shopping for things that you loved, all now what used to make me happy providing care and love for you has been taken away and I feel like my life has been turned upside down. It’s been almost 102 days and I can’t stop thinking about you and how much I miss you and how my heart is so broken. I did not get to say goodbye my friend I do not know where you are or if you are looking for me to come and get you.”
Joy Tomkinson died without the opportunity to see or say goodbye to her former service dog, Joel.
Liana Gallant, a nurse with a BA in disability studies, befriended Tomkinson last spring when her story became public.
“Through the years, I’ve seen and heard many sad and difficult stories,” Gallant said. “This has been one of the more tragic, made so much worse because Joy’s suffering over these past months was so unnecessary.”
According to Tomkinson’s son, Matthew Stearns, his mother went to the hospital last month after experiencing a spike in her already-high chronic pain levels. Her diabetes was responsible for numerous satellite conditions, and doctors had difficulty determining exactly what was wrong. During her three-and-a-half-week stay, she fell out of her wheelchair while attempting to open a door. The subsequent injury to one of her stumps, beyond the initial swelling and bruising, wasn’t immediately apparent, and she was sent home.
“But it turns out that the insult to the body was too great,” explains Stearns. “That’s how they described it. Her body couldn’t deal with it properly, and things just started a cascading shutdown of her system.”
She was home for a week when a second fall from her wheelchair landed her, this past Sunday, back at the General, this time simply for such comfort measures as pain management.
Knowing the end was near, Stearns’s wife, Lise Varrette, suggested arranging a final visit between Tomkinson and Joel, but again, CGDB officials were not accommodating.
“First of all,” wrote Ted Mann, lawyer and vice-chair of CGDB’s board of directors, “our organization is saddened by the circumstances of our former client, Ms. Tomkinson, and our thoughts are with her and her family at this difficult time.
“Insofar as the request relayed by you is concerned,” he continued, “Joel was retired as an assistance dog several months ago and underwent a ‘career change.’ He was rehomed with a family well outside of the Ottawa area, where he permanently resides. Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind no longer has ownership of the dog, nor any control over or access to the dog, and … therefore has no means to be able to comply with the request being made.”
The explanation provided little solace to Tomkinson or her family.
“What’s that worth?” asked Stearns. “They knew what the right thing to do was, and they could have pulled out all the stops in an effort make anything happen. And it’s not the outcome that we’re fixed on. If they had said, ‘You know, we tried; we called the family three times,’ then you have some peace with that. But it was their disappointing response; that was the best they could come up with. It showed a lack of humanity, a lack of compassion, from an organization whose sole mandate is compassion.”
The family even suggested simply a Skype or Facetime call between Tomkinson and Joel, but the request fell on deaf ears.
Instead, a friend of Tomkinson’s who was familiar with her situation contacted the owners of Joel’s brother, Jigger, to ask if he might visit Joy in the hospital. On Monday, when Joy, who was in and out of lucidity, felt the dog’s head, she immediately responded ‘That’s not my dog!’
“We didn’t go in with a plan to say that it was or wasn’t Joel,” says Stearns. “But I think someone said ‘Joel’s here,’ when we brought Jigger in, so that kind of went off the rails.”
But moments later, as Jigger nuzzled Joy’s neck, she exclaimed “Oh, Joel! How did you get him here?”
“So it ended up being nice,” says Stearns. “It brought her some joy. It brought us all some joy, but it wasn’t the same. I mean. It’s for Joel, too. He’s a sentient being with his own life and his own relationships, and to not give him the opportunity …
“This is not the Clinton-Trump debates. It’s not global warming. It’s not nuclear war. But it is important to the people it’s important to, and it’s magnified because of all the other people it has the potential to affect.”
One of nine children born to Bud and Willa Paquette, Joy grew up in Ottawa where she attended Fisher Park High School. Wife of Bob Tomkinson and mother of three — Carrie, Matt and Chantal — and grandmother of seven, she was the glue that held her large extended family together, arranging Thanksgiving family picnics each year at Vincent Massey Park. By turns an artist, real-estate secretary, sign-painter and antiques vendor, Stearns remembers going out with her to garage sales on Saturday mornings.
“She always made everything an adventure for us. She was someone who embodied her name — Joy. She had an indomitable spirit and a great sense of joy.
“Right up to the end, she was always laughing, and despite the pain, she was always making jokes. She always put a positive spin on things. Her thing has always been, ‘Tomorrow will be better.’ Even when we were kids, she’d say, ‘Today may not be great, but tomorrow will be better.’”
Friends are invited to pay their respects on Tuesday, Nov. 22, from 6 to 9 p.m. at the Whelan Funeral Home, 515 Cooper St. A service of memory will also be held there at 11 a.m. on Wednesday.
bdeachman@postmedia.com
查看原文...
