Mother advocates for tissue donation after son's death
'I couldn't change that he was gone, but I could change the lives of other people'
It's been nearly seven years to the day since 16-year-old Lee Flannigan-McMaster died by suicide.
A vibrant young man who enjoyed hockey, basketball, snowboarding and hanging out with his tight-knit group of friends, Lee had remained silent in his struggle with depression.
He left no note, no insight into what compelled him to take such a desperate step.
But his mother takes comfort in knowing that her son's death on Apr. 27, 2009 was not the end of his life.
"He lives on through the 19 people he helped through tissue donation," said Sylvia Flannigan. "He lives on."
The night of Lee's death is etched permanently in Flannigan's memory. The street outside their Sherwood Park home was filled with flashing lights and the constant buzz of emergency radios while family and neighbours came by to offer comfort.
Amid all the chaos, Flannigan sat pale-faced and shell-shocked in a chair. That's when the phone rang. It was a doctor, asking if the family would consent to Lee being a tissue donor.
"I remember in that moment, a sense of peace just coming over me, and it was like my son was saying to me 'mom this is something I want to do.," Flannigan recalled. "I know in my heart it's what my son would have wanted. He was a very loving and caring boy."
Flannigan never knew about tissue donation, and never imagined that it was a conversation she needed to have with her teenage son, but the decision to donate was automatic.
"It's the best decision I could have made. There was so much chaos. My world was just spinning out of control, and in that moment, it gave me some control. I couldn't change that he was gone, but I could change the lives of other people."
Unlike organ donation, tissue donation is possible up to 24 hours after death, and any tissues removed from the body can be stored for up to five years until a viable match is found.
That means Lee's last donation, a piece of tendon, was made more than 4 years after his death.
'I often wonder what they look at'
Although she doesn't know their names, Flannigan has been kept informed of every single transplant. Each one helping to assuage her grief.
"There were times my heart leapt when I saw the University of Alberta hospital come up on my phone, knowing that his tissue was being donated," said Flannigan. "It was joyous. It wasn't sad. It's like he lives on. He lives on."
Lee was able to donate his corneas, scalara (the white of the eye), skin, tendons and bone.
His skin was used to cover the wounds of a 2-year old boy, badly burned in an accident. His corneas helped two women regain their sight.
"I often wonder what they look at. What was the first thing they saw when they opened their eyes after his surgery. There are a lot of little questions like that."
And Flannigan did get a card from a woman who received a part of Lee's eyes. Her name had been scratched out by health officials, but the recipients message was clear.
"She wrote in the card 'Every time I look at myself the mirror I think of my donor.' And I'm sure other people feel that way too."
Since Lee's death, Flannigan has become an advocate for tissue donation. She says it's an option often overlooked by families still coping with the shock of losing a loved one.
"You're already gone. Let them use what they can. If it's something you want to do, you need to talk with your family," said Flannigan. "It's important to know what your loved one wanted so you can honour their last wishes."
With files from Mark Harvey