Failure to Thrive_Proposal_llm_final_11.11

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A Failure to Thrive
My Personal Account of the Canadian Blood Disaster
Leslie Sharp
SHARPL001@hawaii.rr.com
(808) 343-1334

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Contents
Overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
About the Author. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Market Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
Promotion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
Competitive Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
Book Table of Contents. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18
Chapter Abstracts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
Sample Chapter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26

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Overview
In the late 1980s, due to the Canadian Red Cross’s failure to properly screen their blood
supply by implementing surrogate testing, some two thousand Canadians were needlessly
infected with the HIV virus, and some fourteen thousand with hepatitis C (HCV). A
judicial review would later call this “a public health disaster unprecedented in Canada.”
One of the victims was two-month-old Jarad Gibbenhuck, who received tainted blood
during an open-heart surgery in 1988 and was infected with HCV as a result.
A Failure to Thrive tells the story of this medical crisis through the lens of
Jarad’s experience. He became the national poster boy for the crisis and hepatitis C. The
story is also about his mother Leslie’s heroic fight to champion their cause and find an
unlikely cure to save her dying son. Before blood tests revealed Jarad’s infection in1995,
Leslie had sensed that something was seriously wrong with her son. However, his doctors
attributed his constant vomiting to irritable bowel syndrome and dismissed other
debilitating symptoms out of hand.
As the story develops, we see the impact of this disease on Jarad, his brother and
sister—whose activities were limited due to their sick brother—and on Leslie and her
husband Peter’s marriage. Peter originally attributed Jarad’s vomiting to carsickness and
thought Leslie should see a psychologist. Once the doctor confirmed the hepatitis C
diagnosis, Peter became supportive, attending doctor’s appointments and press
conferences, driving the family to Vancouver for meetings and taking responsibility in
the home as Leslie and her expertise became more in demand. By that point Leslie had
become an avid researcher of the disease and unstoppable advocate for her son and the
other victims of the tainted-blood scandal. This taxing schedule put strain on their already
struggling marriage. Soon enough, Peter was overwhelmed and disillusioned and starting
to withdraw again.
Soon the Red Cross and the B.C. Children’s Hospital and its doctors were
lawyering up. At the time of Jarad’s heart surgery, Leslie had offered to donate her
blood. She was told not to worry because the blood was screened and that there was more
risk to Jarad if she was to donate. This turned out to be a lie. They later found out that
Jarad tested positive for HCV in 1994, but Leslie and Peter were never informed by the

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hospital. They finally confirmed the diagnosis in 1995. Leslie joined the board of the
Hepatitis C Society of Canada and Jarad was singled out as the face of the victims, since
he had no risk factors—such as intravenous drug use, common among many of the
victims—to use as slander against him. He was just a boy.
In October of 1993, the Canadian Government established a royal commission to
investigate the allegations that government, non-governmental and private organizations
were responsible for allowing contaminated blood to enter Canada’s health care system.
Justice Horace Krever was appointed to hear all testimony, review all documents and
present his final report to the House of Commons. A class action lawsuit was initiated—
fueled by the final report of the Krever Inquiry—in November of 1997, and Jarad was
one of two representative plaintiffs. Blame would later be assigned to fourteen Red Cross
officials and three government officials—none of whom would be tried on criminal
charges. During the legal battle, lawyers for the Red Cross named all of Jarad’s doctors
as third parties and advised the doctors to withdraw their medical services from those
involved in the case. The family had no choice but to remove Jarad from the lawsuit in
order to continue his medical care. However, there was still no effective treatment for
children with hepatitis C.
By March of 2000, at age twelve, Jarad’s liver was failing and he suffered from
violent vomiting, bouts of diarrhea and unexplained rashes. He spent most days curled up
in the fetal position on the couch, only weeks away from dying and asking his heartsick
mom if he would still vomit in heaven. For years Leslie had tried a variety of alternative
medicine practices, but nothing relieved her son’s awful suffering or offered any hope of
a cure.
When a friend suggested she call a Peruvian doctor and shaman who had an
herbal treatment for liver disease, Leslie was reluctant but made the call. She was
encouraged when he didn’t ask for money. His only request was for her to share updates
about Jarad’s progress. Leslie acquired two bags of what appeared to be roots and
branches, and a couple of bottles of an elixir. She boiled the concoction and made the
herbal tea, doubting Jarad would keep it down. He willingly drank it and was soon asking
for more. Within days he was back on his feet and on the way to recovery. Jarad’s
“miracle cure” made headlines across the country. When health officials refused to let

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Leslie import Jarad’s lifesaving tonic, businessmen, pilots and flight attendants traveling
to Peru offered to stuff their luggage with bags of the herbs and deliver them to the
family. Four years later, Jarad was able to stop his treatment and resume a normal life.
Leslie’s daughter Ashley would best sum up the benefits of this liver tonic by saying,
“Jarad may have taken the medicine, but our whole family got better!”
A Failure to Thrive offers a unique viewpoint on the story of the tainted blood
scandal in Canada and how it affected one family and their sick son. It also paints the
portrait of an Erin Brockovich-type heroine in Leslie, who fights for justice for those too
sick to fight for themselves. The book is a memoir that reads like a nonfiction thriller as
we follow Leslie from the day she’s notified that her chronically ill son, Jarad, contracted
hepatitis C from a tainted blood transfusion. From there she set out to find answers. In
her search Leslie discovered a massive cover-up. Due in part to her tireless research, the
court ultimately found that the Canadian Red Cross and government officials, in a move
to save money, did not use proven surrogate screening of the blood supply until 1990,
four years after the U.S. instituted their testing. And then they covered it up, even
shredding official documents.
In the middle of the political and legal drama, there is Leslie and her family. The
story cuts back and forth between lawyered-up opponents and Jarad’s slow and horrific
decline – at his worst, weighing a mere 46 pounds at age twelve, and only weeks from
death.
This book is about a Canadian national health tragedy, but it is a story that crosses
borders to anywhere bureaucrats decide how taxpayer dollars will be spent at the expense
of public safety. It’s an inside look at backroom government failures and cover-ups; it is
also the story of how these failures affected one very sick boy and his family. Leslie
Sharp invites readers into her home and shares, with raw honestly, the struggles and
triumphs of a family in the face of crisis. We watch Leslie and Peter’s marriage devolve.
We cheer for Leslie when, after their divorce, she moves to Honolulu, Hawaii and starts
over as a small business owner and reclaims her health, losing over 100 pounds. The
story ends on a high note, reporting that a healthy Jarad Gibbenhuck spent his early 20s
living in Whistler Village, British Columbia where he worked for a snowboard outfitter

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and competed in snowboarding competitions. In May 2015, Jarad visited his mom in
Honolulu and, while hiking up to the top of Diamond Head Crater with his Whistler
housemate, met his future wife. After eight months of long distance courtship the two
were married in tropical Honolulu. They currently reside in Lake Tahoe, where they can
be found carving down the slopes on their snowboards or cruising the streets and parks
on their skateboards, ready for whatever life has in store for them.

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About the Author
Leslie Sharp graduated from the British Columbia Institute of Technology in 1979
after studying Accounting and Business Management. After the strain of her son’s long-
term illness, she found herself overweight by 120 pounds. At that point she shifted her
focus to fitness training, taking courses in Health and Wellness Services from Thomas
Edison State. On January 1st, 2006 she moved to Honolulu, Hawaii and achieved her
dream of owning a Curves franchise. In 2015 she obtained a National Health Coach
certification from the Institute of Integrative Nutrition. Today she works at the YMCA of
Honolulu as a Healthy Lifestyle Counselor specializing in Health and Fitness coaching
her, predominately, senior members.
During the tainted blood crisis, Leslie was a board member of the Hepatitis C
Society of Canada and gave numerous newspaper, television and radio interviews about
the crisis. She was a vocal advocate for the billion-dollar compensation package for its
victims. She also wrote articles that appeared in the Penticton Herald, the Pony Express
Magazine, and the Canadian Journal of Public Health. It was her unrelenting search for
a cure that brought to light the Peruvian liver tonic A4+, which ultimately saved her son’s
life.

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Market Analysis
A Failure to Thrive will appeal to many audiences. This book documents a medical crisis,
a family’s struggle, a cause, how socialized medicine and greed can combine to create a
national health tragedy, and the inhumane treatment of citizens of a first world country.
The take away message is to fight for the truth and never lose hope.
Any mother who has been told their child is a “failure to thrive” or has parented a
chronically ill child -- especially those remaining undiagnosed -- will be drawn to this
story. It will additionally appeal to families, extended families, friends and associates
who’ve witnessed a child or another family in the throes of a health care crisis.
Another target audience is parents who have seen their children through the ordeal of
open-heart surgery. It’s reported that 1 out of every 100 babies are born with a heart
defect. There were 3.9 million babies born last year, meaning approximately 40,000 of
them had heart defects (CDC). The parents of those babies seek comfort in stories like
theirs and will be drawn to this book.
More than 30,000 transfused Canadians were compensated because of the Canadian
Blood disaster. These people and their families will come to the book to learn more facts
and find solidarity in our story.
(http://www.pre86post90settlement.ca/english/eng_home.htm)
(http://www.hepc8690.ca/home-e.shtml)
People who believe in natural remedies are another large market for the book. This
includes naturopathic doctors, osteopathic doctors and practitioners of holistic health. In
Canada there are 6,000 naturopaths. It is estimated that 38% of the US population seek
the guidance of Complimentary and Alternative medicine practitioners. In the US alone,
that rounds out to over 120,000,000 people seeking alternative therapies. These
alternative health enthusiasts will be drawn to the “miracle cure” story in the book and
eager to find out what saved Jarad from his inevitable death sentence when he was 12.

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The book will also speak to the hepatitis C community. It is reported by the CDC that
there are 2.9 to 3.7 million people in the US infected with hepatitis C. The number of
people worldwide is believed to top 160 million (HCV Advocate). Sadly, there are not
many personal stories about living with hepatitis C available – this book will speak to all
of those people who have faced the unique struggles of the disease. The CDC reports that
less than half the people who are infected with hepatitis C know it. My hope is that this
story inspires readers to go get tested.
Families who were affected by tainted blood transfusions in the US will also come to the
book to get a better understanding of how Canada was affected. It is believed that some
300,000 people in the United States contracted the disease through blood transfusions
between 1970 and 1980. These individuals as well as their family members will all share
an interest in our story.
Hepatitis C and the scandal are still in the news. In Canada there are ongoing discussions
about returning to court because the pre-1986/post-1990 blood transfusion recipients are
running out of compensation money. Some are proposing to take it from the 1986-1990
compensation fund. The controversy is far from over and my book provides a new angle
into the story.
Furthermore, there are no recent books on this subject and certainly none told from a
mother’s perspective. The Gift of Death was published in 1996, then Blood Feuds – AIDs,
Blood and the Politics of a Medical Disaster in 1999. Our story was told in pieces and
garnered much support and curiosity. Now A Failure to Thrive offers our full story and a
fresh point of view on the topic, with the added perspective of the twenty years that have
passed.
The book will also appeal to those interested in shady government cover-ups, thrillers and
conspiracy theory stories, such Making a Murderer or the podcast “Serial.” The huge
market for reality TV and documentaries will come to the book for its raw honesty. This
audience enjoys getting a private glimpse into how one overcomes adversity. I was at the

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center of the tragedy and was a spokeswoman for tens of thousands of people who were
robbed of their health and loved ones. My son, Jarad, became their hero – taking away
the stigma attached to the disease – and offering hope of a normal life. It will also appeal
to readers who love deeply personal family memoirs such as The Liar’s Club and The
Middle Place.

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Promotion
As we approach the 20th anniversary of this national disaster in November of 2017, the
story will once again crop up in the media. Canadians and others will want to know how
many of Justice Krever’s recommendations have been implemented and where the
victims are now. My book will provide new media angles for the story. I also plan to
include a tribute page in this book to honor all that have passed away.
Although there are books written about what happened during the Canadian blood
tragedy, after almost twenty years no one has written a personal account. My story is
unique because it doesn’t stop with the diagnosis but sees Jarad regain his health and go
on to be a healthy, married man. It chronicles the entire family’s journey through a very
public and unfortunate situation. The Canadian people and the media will turn to this new
window into the tragedy as they revisit the story for the anniversary.
Additionally, I have years of media experience. I did my first formal interview in the
Philadelphia Inquirer. A few weeks later our story was also featured in the Georgia
Straight newspaper. Between 1996 and 2004, I was interviewed extensively by the
Penticton Herald, which printed a six-part feature on our family. I’ve also been
interviewed by the Vancouver Sun, The Globe and Mail and The National Post. I have
written articles for the Pony Express magazine (a magazine published for the Royal
Canadian Mounted Police), Penthouse magazine and the Canadian Journal of Public
Health. I plan to pitch articles to these publications and others when the book launches.
I’ve already spoken with Andre Picard, reporter for the Globe & Mail and author of The
Gift of Death, who suggested a National lookback at the past 20 years to recap all that’s
happened since the Hepatitis C compensation was awarded. The in-depth retrospective
will cover the recommendations of Krever, their progress, the payouts to victims and
lawyers, the criminal charges and where they are now. He suggested writing it to coincide
with the book’s publication. This story will likely also be played out in the Canadian
television media and investigative news programs, and possibly picked up by US news
programs such as 60 Minutes.

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I’ve been interviewed on CBC radio and many television news programs. These ranged
from Canada AM to CITY TV Morning to CBC. My most memorable interview was the
one Jarad and I did on the Vickie Gabereau show in October of 2002. Afterwards, the
producer told me that this episode received more feedback than any other the station had
ever aired. I am prepared to reach out to all of my radio and television contacts upon
publication.
I also have extensive speaking experience and plan to speak on behalf of the book. I’ve
spoken at many support groups in B.C, Alberta and Ontario. I also spoke at hepatitis C
conferences in Toronto, Montreal, San Francisco, Seattle and Washington D.C. Most
recently, Jarad and I were asked by Sabell Canada—the company that owns the A4+
natural remedy that ultimately saved Jarad’s life--to do a presentation at Ecotrend
Ecologics Ltd. two years ago. The following year, we attended a huge conference as one
of their product representatives. It put a face to the product of A4+ for Ecotrend. Both
Sabell and Ecotrend have agreed to promote the book’s launch by sending it out to their
brokers and representatives who distribute to major health stores and naturopathic
doctors. Ecotrend has wide distribution in the U.S. and is revered in the holistic
community.
In addition to Ecotrend Ecologics Ltd. and Sabell Corporation, I’m connected to Dr. Jose
Cabanillas and a network of hepatitis C support groups in both Canada and the United
States. I am also affiliated with the Institute of Integrative Nutrition and the YMCA.
As for online promotion, I have been having discussions with Dexterous Marketing to
create a book website as well as my Facebook business page. I intend to start blogging as
I get closer to finishing the edits on my book. I’ll also promote to my personal network
on Facebook and LinkedIn.
The Wikipedia hepatitis C comprehensive list includes the names of 70 “famous” people
who are infected with hepatitis C , some whom have chosen to go public to help to raise
awareness and to encourage everyone to get tested. The list includes Jim Nabors, Natalie

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Cole, Robert Kennedy Jr., Dr. Kevorkian, Mickey Mantle, Evil Knievel, Tommy Lee and
David Crosby. Pamela Anderson, Steven Tyler and Naomi Judd continue to be among the
most outspoken representatives of the disease. I plan to reach out to these people to
endorse my book.

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Competitive Analysis
My story is frequently compared to Erin Brockovich, which was surprisingly
never a book. Michael Clayton is another story that was a movie but not a
book. Below are a few similar titles, although none combine a story of a
family’s personal struggles with the medical profession, a government
scandal and one boy’s fragile health and eventual comeback from the brink
of death.
Girl in Glass: How My “Distressed Baby” Defied the Odds, Shamed a CEO and
Taught me the Essence of Love, Heartbreak and Miracles by Deanna Fei. Bloomsbury
US. (Hardcover: July, 2015. Paperback: May, 2016.)
This award winning account of Deanna Fei’s family struggles most closely parallels my
story. Not only did this family face a major health crisis that required their undivided
attention, but they were also plagued by moral decisions surrounding their daughter’s
premature birth. Their story touches on how parents become attached to their special
children and the struggles they face to do what is “right” at nearly any cost. When her
husband’s AOL CEO told his employees that he was trimming their benefits because two
“distressed babies” in 2012 had cost the company 1 million each, Deanna Fei came
forward as the mother of one of those distressed babies and began a national debate
about responsibility, compassion and decency. This story shares many similarities to A
Failure to Thrive, in particular Fei’s description of events that resulted in her receiving
an apology and her experience of the Mama Bear that rose up within her as a response to
the CEO’s insensitive comments. This book focuses on the long, confusing days and
nights in the NICU, when it was unfathomable how such a tiny human could possibly
survive. This struck me as we struggled in much the same way but for not nearly as long,
and that is one part of my book but not as big of a focus. While Deanna shamed the CEO
of AOL, we shamed the entire Canadian government, many hospitals, doctors and
pharmaceutical companies. The author recalls the grief she experienced when it
appeared twelve years later that her son might die due to the transfusion he had received

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at eight weeks of age. It was then the family, much like ours, experienced their miracle.
Anyone who has read Fei’s book, who roots for the underdog and enjoys a great story of
protagonist rising from a simple life to take on a giant antagonist and their eventual
triumph, would also be drawn to A Failure to Thrive.
Nurturing Healing Love: A Mother's Journey of Hope and Forgiveness
by Scarlett Lewis with Natasha Sloynoff. Hay House. (October, 2013.)
A mom going through loss is heartbreaking whether she’s robbed of her child, as Scarlett
Lewis was of her young son Jesse during the Sandy Hook school shooting, or robbed of
normalcy by having a traumatic incident happen to your baby immediately after the birth.
Similar to A Failure to Thrive, the journey of this mother encompasses confusion and
grief and is followed by the desperate search for answers, hope and forgiveness. Rather
than focus on the shooting, Scarlett describes her huge loss and focuses her attention on
getting answers and turning the whole devastating experience around to make some good
come out of it. She chronicles starting the Jesse Lewis Choose Love Foundation and how
she became an activist for peace. My book similarly shares the story of how I too became
an activist and involved with a process to educate the community, province and country.
Any mother who has experienced a crisis involving her child, wants to heal her
brokenness and seek a positive way to make change in the world would be searching for
inspiration that comes from Scarlett Lewis. Those same readers would also receive great
encouragement from Sharp’s, A Failure to Thrive.
The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down: A Hmong Child, Her American Doctors,
and the Collision of Two Cultures by Anne Fadiman. Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
(April, 2012.)
The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down is an account of what happens when there is
a lack of communication and understanding between Eastern and Western medicine.
While this book also weaves the personal with the cultural, A Failure to Thrive shares

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how the whole family is affected not only during the tragedy, but well after Jarad
recovers. My book similarly touches on holistic medicine with the tonic that eventually
cured Jarad’s symptoms, but doesn’t focus heavily on Eastern vs. Western medicine.
While Jarad is of course the center of the story, my book is more of a mother’s memoir
about maternal love, sacrifice and making a difference for the health compromised who
cannot speak for themselves.
The Gift of Death (updated edition) by Andre Picard. Harper Perennial. (December,
1997.)
Andre Picard received the Michener Award for Meritorious Public Service Journalism at
the Globe and Mail for his coverage of the Canadian tainted blood scandal as the story
unraveled. He turned his research into a book chronicling the roles of Government, the
medical establishment and the pharmaceutical industry and donors, weaving in the
moving personal stories of both the victims and their families. The updated version was
published two years after the first to include Picard’s examination of the Krever report as
well as to expose the depth of the disaster that included, in addition to 2000 HIV
infections, over 60,000 hepatitis C infections.
My family is featured in this book. Picard’s account focuses primarily on what went so
horribly wrong and why, while my story shares our day-to-day struggles as a family
living in the aftermath of the scandal. A Failure to Thrive carefully winds the history of
the tainted blood tragedy into the larger story of the catastrophic personal effects on one
family. A Failure to Thrive is the continuation of the introduction of our story in Picard’s
Gift of Death. Readers who enjoyed his detailed account would be interested to hear
about the direct effects on a family caught in the crossfire.
Blood Trail by Michael Sullivan (Michael Galster). Jameson Books. September 1998.
First and foremost, this is a novel while my book is a memoir. Sullivan focuses more on
the prison blood aspect of the scandal. Blood Trail created quite a stir in 1998 as it
brought to light the fact that our Canadian blood tragedy was fueled by the importation

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of prison plasma from the U.S. While Bill Clinton was serving as Arkansas Governor,
prisoners in the Cummins prison were bled to earn money. It was then sold through blood
brokers and provided tidy profits for the prison as well as for the state of Arkansas. When
purchasers could not be found in the United States, the brokers turned to Connaught
Labs in Canada who purchased the blood in boxes simply labeled ADC Plasma Center –
without any indication that the initials stood for “Arkansas Department of Corrections”.
The blood was used to make plasma for the hemophiliac population. The Canadian
government has traced the deaths and infections of thousands of its citizens to this
scheme. There is more truth than fiction in this book, so much so that in 1999 the
authors’ offices were scorched by an arson fire. A Failure to Thrive introduces the
Arkansas Prison Blood story, which similarly links the tainted blood story to both sides of
the border and makes it topical for an American audience. All readers who enjoyed this
‘fiction’ can see the long ranging results of greed and a corrupted system.

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Table of Contents
Chapter One: A Fresh Start
Chapter Two: A Failure to Thrive?
Chapter Three: ICU
Chapter Four: Is It Me?
Chapter Five: Crisis
Chapter Six: It’s Complicated
Chapter Seven: Seeking Truth
Chapter Eight: Priorities
Chapter Nine: Stepping It Up
Chapter Ten: Escape and Corruption
Chapter Eleven: Our Peruvian Lifesaver
Chapter Twelve: A New Beginning
Chapter Thirteen: The Silver Lining
Epilogue

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Chapter Abstracts
Chapter One: Leaving her children with her parents in North Delta, B.C., Leslie
Gibbenhuck drives to Penticton where her husband, Peter, is renovating their new home.
Along the way she thinks about the early years of their relationship, and how lately their
marriage has been overwhelmed with illness and unhappiness. She hopes this will be a
fresh start for them. Soon her reverie switches to concern for her six-year-old son, Jarad.
His poor health has plagued him since birth. Her focus shifts once again to her relentless
search to discover the cause of his “failure to thrive.”
Chapter Two: Leslie arrives in Penticton to find Peter and his friend Dan hard at work.
Leslie changes and gets to work climbing up and down a ladder to strip the wallpaper.
The night before the furniture arrives, she falls off the ladder and breaks her ankle. A
tired Peter is less than responsive, and after an emergency room visit, drops her off the
hotel. Some fresh start, she thinks, realizing that like her son, she’s not thriving either.
This incident has her recalling Jarad’s birth, and the weeks following when one doctor’s
visit after another does not result in any improvement in her baby’s condition.
Chapter Three: Once they’ve moved and settled in, Leslie drops her children off at their
new school. But Jarad vomits up his breakfast and Leslie takes him home. As he falls
asleep next to her, Leslie recalls Jarad’s heart failure at two months old and the
subsequent open-heart surgery that was required to save him. Leslie volunteers to donate
her blood for the surgery but the cardiac surgeon assures her that the Red Cross diligently
screens their donor blood supply and using hers would be risky. After surgery Leslie
visits her infant son. Seeing all of the tubes and machines attached to him, she becomes
overwhelmed by his condition.
Chapter Four: The next day, Peter takes the children to school hoping that “tough love”
will encourage Jarad to stay put. But when Peter comes home for lunch and sees Jarad, he
knows Leslie once again caved to Jarad’s “sickness”. Peter is angry and he accuses Leslie

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of giving in to him. She agrees to see a psychologist. Heartbroken and feeling all alone,
Leslie washes dishes and has a flashback to the days following her son’s surgery when he
was “on the edge of the knife.”
When questioned by a nurse about follow-up visits after his birth, Leslie says that three
weeks earlier x-rays showed his enlarged heart but the hospital’s radiologist missed it.
While in the ICU Jarad suffers a relapse, gets more blood transfusions, but rallies in the
days ahead.
Chapter Five: With Peter and Leslie struggling to save their marriage, Leslie gains some
insight into manipulation from the psychologist and stops her visits. In the spring Leslie
hears a broadcast that says children who received blood transfusions at the B. C.
Children’s Hospital, where Jarad was born prior to 1990 may have contracted the HIV
virus. Leslie struggles with the possibility that HIV may be the answer to all of Jarad’s
sick days and failing health. She temporarily puts it out of her mind but in the quiet
moments, she is haunted. She cannot, for the life of her, recall if HIV was ever brought
up. In the following weeks it is eating away at her and she finally books the dreaded
appointment, in a moment when she feels most confident to deal with the life-threatening
news. A few days later, Jarad tests negative for HIV and the family rejoices with a
celebratory dinner at a favorite restaurant. But just a few days later, the family receives
the crushing news that Jarad has tested positive for hepatitis C. An infectious disease
nurse lists the symptoms, many of which Jarad had long been enduring. Leslie calls the
hospital irate that during all of his visits, nobody thought to give Jarad a liver function
test. She’s furious when the pediatric gastroenterologist reveals that they did in fact test
Jarad the year before. He blames her for not bringing him back to the clinic for the
results. She immediately calls the Hepatitis C Society and gets loads of information but
nothing that pertains to children.
Leslie eventually discovers other infected children, but the hospital says they know of no
other children transfused with the virus and that they do not have any information they
can give out. She feels like she’s getting the runaround. She talks to a lawyer whose firm
is considering a class action suit and he informs her about Judge Krever’s Inquiry into the

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tainted blood crisis. Leslie makes a note to herself to find out what this is all about. In
September they enroll the children in a new school after learning theirs would be torn
down. A very nervous Leslie discloses Jarad’s infection to the principal. The school and
the Public Health nurse think it’s a good idea to inform the other parents before the full
story comes out in the newspaper. She is asked to talk to the PTA to assure them that
Jarad’s infection will not spread, and shares that nobody in their family has contracted it.
Chapter Six: Leslie continues her research into hepatitis C. She tirelessly hunts for a
cure for her son, but discovers that the adult Interferon treatment can’t be used on
children. She starts looking into alternative medicine. Leslie and Jarad are invited to
attend the Hepatitis C Society of Canada’s annual general meeting in Toronto, where she
learns the “bigger picture” of hepatitis C and its various transmission routes—through
blood, saliva and semen. She knows that the more she understands about the disease, the
better she can care for Jarad and her family. Leslie joins the national board; Jarad
becomes their poster boy. On the flight home, the pilots let Jarad “land the plane,” or so
he tells everyone.
At home Jarad’s siblings act out, angry about not being allowed to join in on the travels
and adventures. They’re missing attention with Leslie while she devotes all of her time
to hepatitis C and caring for Jarad, who is not well and has to spend days at home with
Leslie. Peter, a fixer, can do nothing to take away the disease that is taking over their
lives. Pete starts withdrawing from the family. His desire to get involved hepatitis C is
complicated by his job as a Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer. The Federal
government is his employer and he is nervous about speaking out about their role in the
tainted blood scandal or supporting the criminal complaints against the Government.
This puts further strain on the marriage.
Chapter Seven: With the looming class action suit, the hospital and even Jarad’s
pediatrician distance themselves from the boy and his condition. Actuaries are hired by
the government to determine how many people could possibly be infected as information
dribbles out of the Krever Inquiry. Experts claim that as many as 30,000 people were

22
infected with HCV. Leslie decides to go public and calls the Penticton Herald. Reporter
Gary Symons interviews her and is horrified by her story and their treatment by the
BCCH, and goes on to interview everyone involved in her nightmare. Symon’s discovers
research proving that testing the blood for high liver enzymes would have eliminated
about 7,000 hepatitis C infections each year from the blood supply. It was estimated that
more than 50,000 people could have been spared a life with hepatitis C without the
government’s inexplicable delays. Gary’s research uncovers the fact that New York City
started surrogate testing in 1981 (seven years before Jarad was born) and the entire U.S.
did so in 1986—four whole years before Canada.
Chapter Eight: Our reporter, Gary’s, story breaks in February and is picked up by
newspapers across Canada. The nation is outraged. Leslie’s family retains lawyer David
Butcher who files a lawsuit against the Red Cross, BCCH, federal officials and a host of
doctors. Leslie petitions for a trace back to Jarad’s blood donor. She teams up with other
HCV activists in B.C. to host a conference for infected victims, which receives national
media coverage. The result is a class action suit with Jarad as one of two representative
plaintiffs.
Leslie and Jarad crisscross the country to conduct more interviews. Leslie feels this is
ever more important as the federal government tries to silence media coverage of Justice
Horace Krever’s findings. The Courts decide that blame should be assigned to those
found responsible in Krever’s final report. As a result of the Courts agreeing that the
names can be made public, the Red Cross launches a countersuit, naming anyone and
everyone they can think of as third parties. Those parties include, among others, Jarad’s
doctors who then refuse to treat him. Leslie and Jarad are forced to withdraw from the
suit in order to continue his medical care.
Chapter Nine: The Globe and Mail in Toronto runs a cover story on the Red Cross’s
intimidation tactics. They are labeled by some as tyrants. In Canada’s upper house,
Senator Richard Doyle demands that “the government stop the Red Cross from using
legal maneuvers that caused the Penticton boy to lose access to medical care.” Leslie and

23
Jarad are invited to Parliament Hill in Ottawa for the unveiling of the Krever report. One
of his fifty recommendations is for the regional and federal governments to devise a
statutory no-fault scheme to compensate the victims of this health tragedy.
Chapter Ten: Too sick to attend school, Jarad is enrolled in a program where a teacher
comes to his home for one-on-one tutoring. Symptoms of the disease become more
obvious and Leslie believes that Jarad will only continue to get sicker. School no longer
seems important. She’s heartbroken by every decision she’s forced to confront. Peter
goes along with everything verbally, but in reality steps further away from the situation.
He leaves their bedroom to move into his newly remodeled room.
Leslie feels torn whenever she has to leave Jarad’s side, afraid he’ll need her, or worse,
die. Even if it’s only to get groceries or take Ashley to skating, her mind is always on
Jarad. Both Tyler and Ashley understand the gravity of the situation and can see how sick
Jarad is. Ashley, a nurturer, spends much of her time looking after him. Tyler feels
helpless and focuses on his drawing, his paper route, and biking to escape the situation.
Meanwhile, the national debate on the compensation package revolves around those
infected during the 1986-90 period when testing was available. Leslie travels to Toronto
for a press conference in which the government limits the billon-dollar compensation
package to this period, and hears boos from HCV activists in the audience who fall
outside of the time frame. Leslie enlists to fight this limitation. Stories begin to surface
about U.S. prisoners’ blood making it into the Canadian blood supply and specifically
affecting the hemophiliac population.
Chapter Eleven: By March 2000, at the age of 12 and weighing a mere 46 pounds,
Jarad appears only weeks away from dying. For years Leslie had tried a variety of
alternative medicine practices from naturopaths, native American Indian medicine men,
healers from various countries, acupuncture, magnets, electro current therapy and even a
“snake oil” salesman who claimed he had the cure. One day her friend Robin tells her
about a Peruvian doctor and shaman’s herbal treatment for liver disease. She reluctantly
contacts Dr. Jose Cabanillas and listens as he describes, in broken English, the tonic and

24
what it has done for his patients. Although a skeptical Leslie thinks she has heard this all
before, something nudges her to believe this might be it. After speaking to Jarad’s doctor
and receiving her blessing, Leslie acquires Dr. Cabanillas’ bags of roots and branches,
plus two bottles of an elixir, and makes the herbal tea. She doubts Jarad will even be able
to keep it down. But he drinks it and soon asks for more. Within days he is back on his
feet and on the way to recovery.
Everybody is overjoyed and for the first time the family enjoys an illness-free summer
vacation. Although both Peter and Leslie are happy for Jarad, the long term damage done
to their marriage seems irreparable. They endure many therapy sessions trying to restore
the relationship, but neither is willing to budge. And soon keeping Jarad supplied with
tonic becomes a problem—off it for only days, his vomiting returns. When health
officials refuse to allow Leslie to import the herbs, pilots and flight attendants traveling to
Peru offer to bring back the lifesaving herbs for Jarad.
Chapter Twelve: In September Jarad feels well enough to return to school, and Leslie
files for divorce. She realizes that it is now her health that needs attention and she starts
working out at the local Curves for Women gym. Over the years she has fed her emotions
by eating and it should have come as no shock that she was over 250 pounds, had high
blood pressure and cholesterol and diabetes. In 2001, five provinces pitch in additional
funds to compensate the victims including those left out of the federal package. In
September 2001 Leslie ferries a group of infected patients down to Peru to experience Dr.
Jose’s miracle formula. Several travel in wheelchairs, but all of them are eventually
healed.
Chapter Thirteen: Leslie’s father dies suddenly from a blood clot, and she considers
moving away. Jarad’s doctors are amazed by his rapid recovery and write letters of
support for this herbal tonic, but nothing is done to speed up the drug approval process
for the thousands who could benefit from it. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s
inquiry into Justice Krever’s findings result in charges of “criminal negligence causing
bodily harm” and “criminal negligence causing death” against the companies, officials

25
and doctors responsible for the contamination of the blood supply. None of them will
serve time. In 2006, Leslie, now 120 pounds lighter, her daughter Ashley and Jarad
move to Honolulu where she fulfills her dream to own and operate her own Curves
franchise.
Epilogue: In December 2013 Leslie returns for Christmas in Canada, her first in nine
years. She visits her daughter Ashley and her family in Castlegar during a snowstorm.
Her son Tyler takes a bus from Edmonton over hazardous roads but makes it safely. On
Christmas, Jarad calls to share a special gift. Two days later Leslie flies to Vancouver
where Jarad picks her up and takes her to his home at the Whistler ski resort. There,
Leslie watches her 25-year-old son compete in a snowboard competition, and she is
excited that he is not only totally healthy but has found his niche in life.
In May 2015, Jarad visits his mom in Hawaii to recover from a broken heel. He brings his
housemate AZZ. One day, the friends hike to the top of Diamond Head Crater where
they start a conversation with two pretty young ladies. One of these women is Jarad’s
future wife. One year later the two elope in tropical Honolulu and move to Lake Tahoe,
ready for whatever life has in store for them.

26
Sample Chapter
Chapter Eleven: Our Peruvian Lifesaver
By March of 2000, Jarad was just eleven years old and had been sick for most of
his short life. The Internet was relatively new, and I spent much of my spare time
searching it for anything that might restore my young son’s health. After being told
repeatedly that there was no prescription medication to treat hepatitis C in anyone under
the age of nineteen (at least in Canada), I decided to follow up on every alternative
treatment I could find. I realized that most of these were not sanctioned by the medical
establishment. But by that point, given that nothing the medical doctors had offered him
had worked, I was getting desperate.
Jarad had chosen to opt in to the Hepatitis C Compensation Settlement Plan,
telling me, “I do not want you to fight anymore.” He wanted me to stop traveling and stay
home, and would accept any amount they offered. I submitted the claim on his behalf, but
couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be around when he turned nineteen, the age
when he’d be eligible to collect his compensation.
While Tyler and Ashley were excited about the school year winding down, Jarad
had become increasingly lethargic. We found ourselves postponing and cancelling
summer plans because Jarad was too sick to do most activities. It impacted all of us. But
nobody complained. We just wouldn’t go ahead without him.
We all had our own way of handling the sickness and sadness. I was desperately
angry at the medical industry and those responsible for the blood contamination. There
was no amount of money that could take away our pain. I felt fearful all of the time, and I
ate constantly. Perhaps this was a way to compensate for Jarad’s lack of appetite and
subsequent physical deterioration. I worried and found it hard to concentrate. Would he
die suddenly the moment he was out of my sight? I could not leave his side. Ashley—
our little nurturer—waited on him hand and foot. She read him stories, played his favorite
games, got him any toy he asked for, fluffed his pillow and pulled the blanket over his
tiny body, and offered him treats she hoped he would eat. Tyler went about his business.
He was an A student and never had to study. He loved to draw, kept busy with his paper

27
route, and he used the money he earned to buy his first BMX bike. He loved to ride and
competed at the local track and in neighboring cities. This was his way of escaping the
pain of watching his sick brother fade away. Although they didn’t say it, I knew both
Tyler and Ashley held some resentment toward their younger brother. In the past we had
cancelled family outings because Jarad had gotten sick. Now that he was sick all the time,
there were just no plans being made. No talk about the future. Every day was spent at
home. I know this wasn’t easy on my growing teenagers.
By now Peter and I had exhausted our counseling services and were tired of trying
to change each other’s minds. My husband continued to be in denial that anything was
seriously wrong with our youngest child and continued to ignore my concerns.
One day when Ashley and Jarad were watching TV, I went downstairs to Peter’s
workshop where he spent much of his time. I was sick of watching him retreat from our
problems.
“You should be upstairs with the children,” I snapped.
“Why? They don’t need me. In fact none of you need me,” he said. I was too
exhausted to waste my time arguing with him. By that point I felt incredibly alone in our
relationship. Peter had moved out of our bedroom long ago. With Jarad so sick, I let him
sleep in our queen-sized bed most nights. Just like when he was a tiny baby, I could not
bear to let him out of my sight. I was so worried he would die alone in the middle of the
night. Jarad suffered horribly from violent vomiting and bouts of diarrhea and
unexplained rashes. His appetite had all but disappeared. He understood the relationship
between eating and throwing up and as a result was hesitant to put anything in his mouth.
He spent a good deal of his day curled up in the fetal position on the couch, sleeping or
softly moaning. His weight had dropped to sixty-six pounds. A visit to our doctor
revealed that, in addition to everything else, Jarad had also contracted an upper
respiratory infection complete with a bad cough. In his weakened condition he could not
shake it. His lymph glands were swollen. Vomiting increased to three times or more per
day. Any nibble of food I could get him to eat did not stay down for long. He mainly
existed on sips of ginger ale. The anti-nausea drugs from the doctor gave him no relief.
So in June, one month shy of his twelfth birthday, I took him back to the doctor.

28
By that point his weight had fallen to forty-seven pounds. He was so weak I had
to carry him from the car into the doctor’s office. Dr. Severide, our family doctor,
checked him out thoroughly and glanced over at me. We exchanged worried looks, and I
told her that the irritable-bowel and anti-nausea drugs had not helped. It was a miracle he
was not dehydrated and in need of IV fluids. I knew without actually hearing the
prognosis that Jarad was quite possibly only weeks from dying. His will to live was
sinking fast. Nothing could make him smile. He spent more and more time sleeping. I
did not know whether Jarad sensed his end was near, or if he was just fed up with being
sick. Back at home, I cuddled my sick son in my arms. I physically hurt everywhere, as
if I was absorbing some of his pain—and I would have gladly done so, if only it would
have made Jarad better.
Jarad was usually exhausted when his hospital homebound teacher, Vanda Wilson
visited. Some days they spent an hour or so together reading, writing and doing
arithmetic. But Jarad was losing his enthusiasm for life and his attention often wavered.
Sometimes he just slept through Mrs. Wilson’s visit. Watching this little boy suffer and
miss out on so much of his childhood was torture. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be able to
bear it.
One day, Jarad weakly asked, “Will I throw up when I get to Heaven? Will I still
have headaches, and be so itchy?” But it was his next question that caused my heart to
break. Years before, Jarad and Ashley had nicknamed me “Suki” after the sophisticated
Siamese cat in their favorite book, The Cat’s Wedding. One day he asked me, “Suki, will
you put red roses on my grave?” I couldn’t respond, but secretly wondered where these
questions were coming from. For days after that, he continued to ask me difficult
questions about dying. I was stumped. How could I possibly provide him with the
answers he was seeking when I did not know the answers myself? Jarad’s line of
questioning prompted me to examine my own relationship with God. I searched the bible
for answers.
“I’m scared Suki,” he said one day. “Will you be there?”
Although it nearly killed me inside, I shakily answered as best I could. “I will
likely be here on earth, Darling, but one day we’ll see each other again.”

29
He thought about my response and asked, “Who will take care of me? Will I ever
see Rolly (his nickname for his sister, Ashley) again?”
I wanted to cover my ears, say “lalala” and forget he had ever opened this
conversation. How could I live without him? I had given so much of my heart and soul to
his health and the cause of hepatitis C. I decided my life would simply not be worth
living without him. I prayed all day, in one breath asking God to take both of us, and in
the next, asking for a miraculous cure to fix all of our broken lives.
Everything I did during the course of my day reminded me of Jarad. When I
walked past the boys’ room and spied Tyler playing on the floor, all I could think about
was how Jarad would not get to do this. When I did laundry and folded his tiny clothes
or when I stopped to pick up toys laying on the floor, it reminded me just how sick Jarad
had become. He was at the center of my universe.
I became quite militant about protecting Jarad. His immune system was broken
and we didn’t want any other germs invading his body. If I was not by his side, I was
within earshot. I kept him isolated from sick people when we were out and about. But the
safest place for both of us was usually at home. That way I was spared explaining why he
was not at school or giving updates to friends we bumped into. I limited the friends Tyler
and Ashley could have over for play dates. I told family and friends that if they were
feeling sick they should stay away. This left me alone with Jarad day after day. I became
hyper-focused on his failing health and quickly spiraled into a depression. My whole
family felt the pain of Jarad’s long-term illness; it was the black cloud that followed us
everywhere. Most nights I cried myself to sleep as he slept fitfully beside me.
This whole ordeal made me edgy. I snapped at those I loved the most. I was angry
all the time. My health suffered. I had begun eating for two, as if I were pregnant,
subconsciously attempting to make up for Jarad’s lack of appetite. My body swelled, and
my blood pressure, cholesterol and blood sugar levels all reflected my troubled life.
Some doctors continued to downplay the seriousness of Jarad’s condition. My
intuition was screaming, “You are wrong, you don’t know him, he is going to die!” More
than once I heard them suggest that I was the problem. Doctors often told me to see a
psychologist. But I didn’t feel strong enough to tear myself away from him to go see one.
Even my husband, Peter, seemed to doubt that things were as bad as I made them sound. I

30
saw the way he looked at me. He no longer went with us to Jarad’s doctor appointments.
Maybe, I thought, he simply couldn’t deal with being torn between what the doctors were
saying, and my interpretation of the situation.
At least our general practitioner, Dr. Severide, was on my side. She knew our
situation better than anyone else and had witnessed Jarad’s deterioration firsthand. Dr.
Severide had been our family doctor for years and she saw the dramatic decline in his
health and mine. After all we had been through, I wondered what else the other doctors
could be covering up. But still at times I doubted myself. Could I possibly be wrong? I
spent almost all of my time with my sick son. If he were well, wouldn’t he be doing
more? His sad face told the truth and his vomiting and weight loss were certainly more
than symptoms of being a “failure to thrive.” As the days passed, I was plagued with
headaches and extreme anxiety. I continued to pack on the weight. I punished myself by
caring less about everything around me. If Jarad was going to die, he was going to take
me with him.
My friend Robin grew concerned watching what hepatitis C was doing to Jarad
and me. Robin was a good friend I had met through a hepatitis C forum I had hosted. She
was also infected through a blood transfusion. I called her following Jarad’s last
appointment with Dr. Severide.
“Remember I told you about Michael?” she asked, excitement in her voice.
“No” I told her impatiently. I guess I had promptly forgotten our conversation as
soon as I hung up the phone a few weeks ago. Apparently an acquaintance of Robin’s,
Michael, had hepatitis C, too. He recently tried a tonic and tea from Peru and had
experienced a complete transformation.
“Remember I told you that he had taken Interferon and felt horrible?” Robin
reminded me. “Well, today I got the doctor from Peru’s phone number. I bet he can help
Jarad, too. It can’t hurt. It’s a herbal tonic and Mike said he hasn’t experienced any side
effects.”
“Does the doctor in Peru claim this is a cure?” I asked. “How much does he
charge?” Robin said she wasn’t sure. Money was tight given all of our medical expenses.
I owed it to my family to proceed cautiously. I knew I couldn’t deal with any more dead-
end searches for help. I followed up on every lead, but sadly I had heard too many

31
promises, and paid out too much money, for zero results. I was simply not ready to have
my hopes dashed again. But then again, we had nothing to lose. I told myself I just
wouldn’t hold expectations this time.
“Okay Robin, give me his number. I’ll talk to Dr. Severide and see what she says
about this.”
Of course, I wanted my son to be healthy, but I could not handle another setback.
I was drained from watching him spend his days curled up on the couch and moaning
gently with a bucket beside him. It was a struggle for me to just be in his presence these
days, but I also could not bear to be too far from his side. Ashley especially drew closer
to Jarad and became blatantly aware of his decline in health. It had been obvious since
Jarad’s birth that they shared a very special bond. She had always helped me: getting
diapers, bringing clean clothes, watching over as I bathed our new bundle in the sink, and
now caring for him as he suffered. She was his little mother.
After a particularly upsetting check-up with Dr. Severide, who could give me no
hope or solace, I finally picked up the phone and made a desperate call to Dr. Jose
Cabanillas. He did not answer my call. After weighing my options once more in my head,
I left a message.
A few days later, our house phone rang. My heart skipped a beat or two as I
heard Dr. Jose Cabanillas say, “Hello, is this Leslie Sharp?” Although I struggled to
understand his broken English, Dr. Cabanillas introduced himself and carefully explained
how the tonic detoxified the liver and allowed it to rest, so that the liver could heal itself
and fight off infection. That was the case, “As long as Jarad followed the strict diet and
got plenty of rest.”
“No worries there,” I told the doctor, and explained that all Jarad could do was lie
on the couch and doze on and off all day. The doctor told me that his other patients who
had taken the tonic—all with different types of liver disease, including hepatitis C—had
experienced miraculous recoveries and had seen their health restored. His encouraging
words gave me a glimmer of hope, but I was still skeptical. I had heard “miraculous”
bandied about too many times.
However, the good doctor had gotten my attention. His sincerity shone though
during our conversation, especially since he didn’t ask for any money. In the past every

32
time someone told us about a potential treatment for hepatitis C, it always came with a
price tag. I had dragged Jarad to a Native American medicine man ($325.00 plus a
tobacco offering), a Pranic healer ($500.00), and a naturopath (thousands). We had
received many invitations from naturopaths, MLM companies (selling Tahitian Noni
Juice and a variety of supplements), chiropractors, faith healers, and snake oil salespeople
offering us the “only” cure available. While legally they couldn’t state that their product
cured certain diseases, they always implied that “theirs actually did.” I got sucked in by
many of these “cures” for the first few years and over time, shelled out more than
$15,000.00 on alternative treatments that did not work.
I expressed my doubts to Dr. Jose that a tea made of twigs and roots would in any
way appeal to my sick son, given that he vomits up everything he eats. Dr. Jose consoled
me by saying, “If Jarad feels better when he takes it, he will ask for more.” He urged me
to let Jarad’s body decide.
“Please Leslie, I make no promises and offer no guarantees. But I have seen this
tonic work some miracles, and I have no reason to doubt that Jarad’s liver will experience
a similar healing.” The doctor assured me that either way it would cause my son no harm.
He explained how he had admitted himself to a hospital in Peru to test his tonic on
himself. He had it infused directly into his veins while doctors monitored his vitals for
harmful side effects. He reported that he had suffered no harm by taking massive doses.
Although I desperately wanted to accept his offer immediately, I told him that I
would have to discuss it with our family doctor. He went on to assure me that the tonic
“contains all natural ingredients made from plants, flowers, vegetables and herbs—no
chemicals.” He explained that I just needed to boil up the contents of the paper bag to
make a “tea,” and add a filled dropper of the elixir. Based on his size, Jarad would need
to drink two cups of tea each day with a teaspoon of the tincture added to each. Doubts
were spinning in my head.
I thought to myself, “Maybe this is a desperate, stupid gamble, but if Jarad feels
better, nothing else matters.” To his credit Dr. Cabanillas did not use the word “cure”
when describing the effects of his herbal treatment. He never asked us for money, and
just asked me to keep in touch and let him know how Jarad was doing. “Please, just let
me know how your son feels over the next couple of weeks,” he pleaded.

33
My mind was made up when I called Dr. Severide to ask her opinion. She offered
the encouragement I needed to hear by saying: “You have nothing to lose.” My gut
feeling was that at the rate Jarad was vomiting and losing weight, he would be lucky to
live another couple of weeks. I wanted this to work so badly for Jarad. I started to
daydream about the possibility that he might actually enjoy a quality of life that had
eluded him for the past five years. I thought about how all of our lives would change.
The remote possibility of Jarad feeling better was more important to me than anything
else.
But, I couldn’t help but think about how this might appear to medical
professionals and the legal system. In Canada there was danger in administering untested
treatments, especially from third world countries. If Jarad's health deteriorated further
after taking the tonic, I could be charged with criminal negligence and be sent to jail.
However, that didn’t matter to me now. Just as Dr. Severide said, we had nothing to lose.
At this point, it took very little to make Jarad gag and vomit. I was buying all
different kinds of food hoping to find something he would keep down. He turned his nose
up to most food with an emphatic, tight-lipped, shake of his head—and then I ended up
devouring it myself, out of frustration. I knew that if he didn’t like the smell of the tonic,
it was highly unlikely that he would even taste it.
The gentle Peruvian doctor reassured me that if Jarad noticed a relationship
between taking the tonic and feeling better, he would naturally ask for more. Dr.
Cabanillas felt confident that Jarad would feel a little better with every liter he drank. He
would give us enough to make a liter each day for about a month. Dr. Cabanillas had left
some with his brother-in-law and arranged for us to meet the brother-in-law and pick it
up in Keremeos, a town forty-five minutes away from our home. Now I just had to tell
Jarad about the plan.
“Jarad, I spoke with a doctor who has a liver tonic that might make you feel
better. I spoke with Dr. Severide and she agreed it would be worth a try.” He looked up at
me, his eyes sunken in his thin face. His first question was, understandably, “What does
it taste like?”
“I don’t know Sunshine,” I said, thinking on my feet, “but I do know someone
who has taken it and now he feels better. What if we go and talk to him?” Jarad gave me

34
a weak nod. I quickly called Robin and asked if she thought Michael might talk to Jarad
and share his experience. She called me right back and said, “Can you go right now?”
“Yes,” I told her.
“Okay, I will be by to pick you up in ten minutes.” Robin lived just around the
corner. I carried Jarad out to her car and we headed out to Michael and Musha’s home in
Kaleden, about 20 minutes away. I sat in the back seat holding Jarad close.
We drove up to their basement door as a beaming Michael came out to greet us. I
was immediately struck by how healthy he looked.
“This must be the little Jarad I have read and heard so much about”, he said.
“Welcome and come on in.” Michael sat Jarad down and described his experience with
the tonic. His wife, Musha, relayed her perspective of the experience. She said Michael
had gone from sleeping most of the day to being able to work.
“Mike is a new man! His energy has returned, his appetite is great and he is
finally gaining weight.” Her words were music to my ears. Her enthusiasm was
contagious. Jarad listened and then asked Michael, “What does it taste like?”
“Honestly”, Mike said “a little like dirt.” Jarad managed a weak smile. “But it
was not as bad as some of the other medicines I have taken, and those never made me
feel this good.” Jarad seemed a little brighter at the hope of the nausea and headaches
going away. But I could tell the trip had been long enough for Jarad, and he asked if we
could go home.
“What do you think?” I asked on the drive home.
“I guess so,” he answered feebly. As I looked out the window my heart was
heavy and tears streamed down my cheeks. It was as if we both understood this was our
last hope for him.
I did not tell Peter of our plan to drive to Keremeos. Since he was a member of
the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, I was afraid that he might try to stop me, or that he
might get in trouble for my actions. I felt a little foolhardy going to a tiny village in the
middle of nowhere to pick up a mysterious package. But it was a risk I was willing to
take for my son. Although our marriage was on the rocks and we rarely communicated, I
still didn’t want to jeopardize Peter’s RCMP career by involving him.

35
The day we were scheduled to run this errand was hot. As soon as my husband
headed out the door to work after lunch, I scooted all three children into the car and we
headed off to Keremeos. I was both nervous and excited to meet up with the doctors’
brother-in-law, Penn Dragon. Something told me I was making the right choice, and I
couldn’t wait to get there. I quickly told the kids that Mommy had something special to
pick up that might make Jarad feel better. Tyler asked what it was.
“It’s a herbal liver tonic Robin told me about,” I said. “A doctor from Peru gave it
to a friend of Robin’s,” I explained, “and he feels so good now.” Jarad was very quiet but
a renewed sense of hope filled the car as we headed down the highway.
Soon I rounded the corner onto the rocky driveway. It was early afternoon, and
tall trees shaded the drive. Ashley pointed out a man standing in the driveway just in
front of the big, old rustic house. I noticed the wood siding was rough and worn, and it
had three stories. It blended right into the country setting. I quickly turned my attention to
the man. He had a very handsome face. He was tall and slender, with long dark hair tied
back in a ponytail. His skin was light brown as if kissed by the sun. “Could that be him?”
I thought. My eyes went immediately to two medium-sized paper bags in his hands. I told
the kids to wait in the car. I slowly opened my door and walked towards him, shyly
asking “Penn Dragon?”
He smiled reassuringly “It is I,” he said as he handed me the two bags. His face
shone brilliantly in the afternoon sun. I brought him over to the car and introduced him to
the kids. They, too, were fascinated by this man with the medieval name and long
ponytail!
He explained that the instructions were in the bags and said his goodbyes as he
turned back towards the house. I was almost giddy with anticipation. I felt a twinge of
guilt for not telling my husband, but most of all I felt that a spark of hope had returned to
our darkened lives.
Relieved that we had gotten our “goods,” I was momentarily distracted by our
possibilities. One of two things would happen: Jarad would get better, or he would get
worse. I chose not to focus on the latter. I sat for a minute unable to start the car. I gave
my head a shake as Ashley asked if she could hold onto the two bags. I told her to hold

36
on tight, concerned she might drop the precious contents, as I turned the car around and
made the slow drive up the bumpy driveway.
Ashley was very curious about the contents, and she was also very protective of
her sick little brother. She checked inside the bag. “Be careful,” I warned, as I watched
from the rearview mirror. Ashley described the contents. “It’s just a bunch of sticks!” she
said disappointedly, but there were also “two small glass bottles” of the elixir that the
doctor had described in the bags.
As I entered the divided highway, I could feel the atmosphere in the car change
from one of trepidation to lightness. Tyler slid their favorite cassette tape into the car
stereo, and we all sang along to Akuna Matata (from the Lion King) as we headed for
home.
As soon as I walked into the house, I excitedly took the bags of herbs to the
kitchen. I cautiously opened them and peeked inside to see twigs and roots as Ashley had
described. There were also some dried flowers and chunks of sticks and strips of bark in
the bags. I carefully read the instructions, refreshing my mind on what Dr. Cabanillas had
said. I poured a gallon of distilled water into a soup pot and emptied the contents of one
bag as instructed. I boiled it on medium-high for twenty minutes and watched the mixture
become a very dark red color. I used a strainer and poured the boiled tea into four quart
glass jars that would store Jarad’s concoction, and silently said a prayer that he would not
only drink it but would keep it down. The tea smelled somewhat like dirt, just as Michael
had warned, while the tincture smelled like a combination of soya sauce and scotch
whiskey. It was not an appealing smell for anyone—let alone a sick boy with a very
sensitive nose!
I did not share these thoughts with Jarad. I went to the living room to check on
him and saw that he was curled up on the couch fast asleep. “That’s good,” I told myself,
as I went back to the kitchen and placed the jars in the fridge. “His nap will give the tea
time to cool.”
Jarad slept for just over two hours, and when he woke up he asked if his new tea
was ready. “It sure is,” I told him, as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. I carried him to the
kitchen, not taking the chance that he might vomit on the living room carpet. I sat him on

37
the kitchen counter as I poured him a cup of tea and added the tincture. Ashley and Tyler
came in to witness the first sip.
Jarad said, “Humm, smells good . . .!” And then he plugged his nose and drank it
down. We all laughed as he reluctantly added, “Not bad!” But his contorted facial
expressions indicated the very opposite.
We watched for signs of the liquid coming back up but that didn’t happen. In fact,
a few minutes later he asked, “When can I have some more?”
Not only did the tea stay down, but he asked several times that afternoon, “Is it
time for my tea?” The next day, he went to the fridge and poured a glass for himself,
pinched his nose and downed it. Unlike pretty much anything else he ate, I never had to
coerce him to take his “liver tonic.”
It was soon obvious that Jarad was feeling better. Within two days he reached a
level of energy and activity that we had not seen from him in over a year. He left the
couch to tramp up and down the stairs to his second-floor bedroom. The twinkle returned
to his previously dark sunken eyes. His cheeks were flushed, and his legs and arms found
strength. He even went out to ride his bicycle and take off on his rollerblades or
skateboard. Soon enough, he was meeting up with the neighborhood kids to play.
Three days after beginning the tonic, I was panic-stricken when I realized that
Jarad was missing. The last time I had seen him, he was playing in the driveway. I later
learned that Jarad was out on our quiet cul-de-sac when some boys his age were walking
home from school, and they invited him to join them at one of the boy’s homes.
Because Jarad had been so ill for the past few years, he had never gone off to play
with anyone. He spent his days indoors or maybe, on a good day, in our yard. So, I had
never had to teach him to tell me where he was going and when he would return. That
day he had innocently accepted the boys’ invitation. Tyler, Ashley and I walked the
neighborhood, calling his name and knocking on doors, looking for any signs of him.
Hours later, when I was ready to give up and call the police (or at least his Dad), Jarad
came sauntering down the street. He was grinning from ear to ear, happier than we had
seen him in years. I simultaneously wanted to hug and smack him. But, before I could
give him a stern lecture on telling me where he was going, Jarad asked if it was time for

38
his “medicine.” Hand in hand, we walked back to the house, and I watched in awe as he
gulped down his tea.
It was crystal clear to me that if Dr. José Cabanillas had not entered our lives
when he did, Jarad would not have lasted another two weeks. I called him in Peru and
gave him an update. He was thrilled by Jarad’s recovery, and to hear that by following
the doctor’s strict diet, Jarad had put on twenty pounds in less than two months.
Peter was as amazed and overjoyed as the rest of us, and the family had a
wonderful summer together. We went to the beach, waterslides and parks. We visited
with my sister and her family often, now that Jarad could make the drive to Kelowna
without vomiting. We even travelled to Vancouver and Gibson’s to drop Tyler off at
Camp Elphinstone. For the first time in years, we all relaxed and Jarad started living like
a normal boy. He wanted to compete in BMX racing and did it. Our reporter friend, Gary
Symons, wrote a feature story about Jarad’s recovery that swept through provincial and
national newspapers, creating a sensation. He interviewed Dr. Severide who confirmed
Jarad’s miraculous recovery but could not explain it. But I knew the answer.
Jarad took his medicine every day—he never missed a dose! However, we soon
realized that our supply was going down fast and we needed more. I called the doctor and
he arranged for us to pick up another batch from his brother-in-law. He cautioned that
after this delivery we would have to wait until the next time he came from Peru. He
assured us that he would be back before Jarad ran out again, but months later his return
had been delayed. I decided to cut Jarad’s daily dosage in half in an effort to stretch out
what we had left.
I had been invited to speak at a Hepatitis C Summit near Seattle, Washington
about hepatitis C in children. So early Friday afternoon I packed up my children and we
headed for the border. We were just twenty minutes from crossing to the United States at
Sumas, Washington when panic seized Jarad. We all held our collective breath as Jarad
started to whimper and asked for a “barf bag”. The half-dose of medicine was obviously
not enough. The vomiting had suddenly returned with a vengeance. The fear in his eyes
was horrifying. We had gotten so comfortable with him being well that we were totally
unprepared for this devastating moment. He spent the entire weekend vomiting. He did
not leave our hotel room, except to get in the car when we drove back to Canada.

39
For the next month, we watched in anguish as Jarad got progressively sicker. This
was so difficult for us as a family, as Jarad’s brief stint of wellness brought a new tragic
depth to the returning sickness. The panic on his face was gut-wrenching as each wave of
nausea returned in full force. There was nothing any of us could do but wait until the
doctor returned from Peru. On his return, the doctor was detained at customs. The
precious fluid was taken from him and dumped by immigration officials.
But, as a precaution, the doctor had managed to send us a parcel that arrived on
the Greyhound bus. Excitedly, I rushed down to the bus station to pick it up. As soon as I
returned home, I proceeded to boil the first full batch of medicine that Jarad would have
in a month. He drank every drop of that first cup. I believed that he immediately felt the
effects. Within two days, his energy was up and he was back at school. He resumed
playing outside with his new friends and thoroughly enjoying his new passion—BMX
biking. Seeing him on the BMX track, you would never know what this child had gone
through over the years. He gave the racing his all, a testament to him feeling good again
and living life to the fullest.
Over the next year, the medicine would become scarce and unavailable a few
more times. Each time, Jarad would sink into a depression. Soon the vomiting and
diarrhea would return and take control of his life again. There was no mercy from the
effects of his hepatitis C for this sweet child whenever the medicine ran out.
I applied to Health Canada under the Special Access Program to import the life-
saving tonic from Peru. I secured letters from our general practitioner, as well as Jarad's
pediatric gastroenterologist. Both gave high marks to the tonic and praised Jarad's
miraculous recovery. They urged Health Canada to grant us permission to import a six-
month supply of the medicine. After waiting many weeks, we finally received their reply:
the access was denied unless we were willing to hand over the list of ingredients, the
quantities of each ingredient, and the method used to create the liquid. I was shocked.
These bureaucrats did not care whether my son suffered or died, but only wanted to
maintain their petty control over this medical treatment.
I was glad I didn’t know the any of the required information, because for Jarad’s
sake I likely would have given it up. The doctor’s patents were not yet in place, and so it
became imperative that the liver tonic’s ingredients be kept under wraps. I knew it was

40
important to proceed cautiously and protect the doctor, the medicine and his
manufacturing rights.
Jarad’s life once again hung in the balance. I was furious and called our reporter
friend Gary Symons to notify him of their response to our appeal. He chose to write
another story for the local newspaper, which was picked up both provincially and
nationally, and we were interviewed on national radio. Within days I received a call from
the talk show host Vicki Gabereau. She asked if Jarad and I would come to Vancouver
and appear on her show. She wanted to bring national attention to the treatment we were
receiving by the very government responsible for poisoning Jarad in the first place.
On October 1, 2001 Jarad and I appeared on national TV to tell our story about
Health Canada’s refusal to let us import Jarad’s life-saving tonic. This ruffled some
feathers in government. More importantly, many people came forward—businessmen,
pilots and flight attendants—who travelled to Peru on a regular basis. They offered to
bring the life-saving medicine back for Jarad. The public response to our situation was
incredibly moving. There was no way we would ever run out of this life-saving tonic
again.
But sadly, there was another side to this public disclosure. The CTV station
received over eight hundred phone calls from families who had someone infected with
hepatitis C; they all wanted to know how to get this tonic for their loved ones. The TV
station told me they had never had such a response to a program. Some viewers even
found us and begged me to share our medicine with them. They called on behalf of their
moms, dads, children, parents, and other family members and friends. To say their pleas
were overwhelming and heartbreaking is an understatement. But there was nothing that
Dr. Cabanillas or I could do to supply the tonic to anyone else. Until the Canadian
government approved it, only a limited amount of the tonic could be processed and
imported at a time.
In the first year of the treatment, Jarad grew in height and gained more than sixty
pounds. He was happy, healthy and active. He loved going to school and hanging out
with his new friends. He tried all kinds of new activities and truly showed no fear. His
passion for BMX biking soared, and he steadily improved his skill at it. At the awards

41
banquet at the end of that BMX season, Jarad was presented the “Rookie of the Year”
trophy for the most improved new biker, a testament to his newfound health.
Jarad took the mystery fluid for the next four years. When the decision was made
by Dr. Jose to take him off of the tonic, believing his liver had fully recovered, none of us
feared his symptoms would return. When the last drop of our supply was gone, we
celebrated Jarad’s health and his new disease-free life. But mostly we celebrated the
modest doctor who had generously provided us with the tonic and his business partner,
Brad Clarke, who continued to keep Jarad supplied after that first stressful year when we
ran out periodically. My deepest thanks go to both of them for believing in the miracles
of the rainforest and for sharing them with a young boy and a very broken family.
It was Ashley who summed up the benefits of the liver tonic best when she said,
“Jarad may have taken the medicine, but our whole family got better.”

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