Tribute to Doctor Christopher James Emanuel

Chris was an oncologist, a doctor specializing in the treatment of cancer. He saved lives for a living and if his memorial service was any indication, he saved lots of them. Chris once told me his patients were "the most gracious patients in the world", and "worth everything I can do for them". Up until near his death, Chris worked in a cancer treatment facility in London, Ontario. Just prior to his death, treatment for bipolar disorder made it necessary for him to switch to the less demanding area of family medicine.

To this day, I can't watch episodes of ER with the actor, Noah Wyle in them. Noah Wyle looks eerily like Chris. And the whole ER doctor thing is really spooky since Chris was a doctor and, at one point, wanted to be an ER doctor.

When he was still taking undergraduate courses, Chris worked at a research laboratory at McGill University dedicated to finding treatments for cancer. Visiting him in the lab was fun because he'd use Chris Emanuel Exaggeration Factor (CEEF) when referring to the radioactive material samples. "That's so radioactive your head will fall off if you go near it," he'd deadpan. "Your brain will explode into a zillion tiny chunks." It still cracks me up.

Chris took some interesting trips with friends: bicycling across England, backpacking across Europe. He liked to visit new and beautiful places. In the summer of 1996, Chris visited Niagara Falls. He also visited Montreal and saw the family. In retrospect, I know he was saying good-bye.

Chris died of an overdose that he took on purpose. He committed suicide. One evening, he shut his English Spaniel, Riley, into the kitchen like he did every night, took his overdose and went to bed. The last person to see him alive was a friend named Deena. She had no idea when she left him that day that it would be the last time any of us would see him alive. A nurse friend came looking for him at his home and discovered that he had died. He must have suffered horrendous torments to lead him to take his life. He knew how to do it and he made no mistake. He was 29 years old. He was a very dear friend and a loving, caring brother.

Chris valued life enormously. Once he revived a fly that had almost died trapped between two panes of glass. He didn't want it to die like that, trapped, when it was not time. Since I never saw his body, I have never stopped looking for him, half-believing it was all a terrible mistake.

Near the time of his death, Chris might have been listening to the Hints, Allegations, and Things Left Unsaid album by Collective Soul. I figured this out since the CD was sent home to us without liner notes. The music was probably being listened to and the liner notes were probably being scanned. It's a great, upbeat album. I have to believe that Chris knew he was going to a better place. He never would have left us if he wasn't convinced of that.

Trainspotting was probably the last movie Chris saw. It was an intense movie with a great script and a lust for life message. I'm sure he was eager to see it when it was released. When I found out he'd seen it, and seen it just before he died, I broke a lifelong rule not to see movies more than once. I saw it a dozen times or so and sat beside Chris every time. Since then, I often see movies more than once. What the heck. Live a little.

Chris was a fantastic prankster. With his friends, or on his own, he set up some hilarious pranks. and he was pretty careful not to hurt anyone or cause offence. At our family's summer home, Chris pulled so many goofy pranks that no one minded; everyone actually enjoyed them. For example, Chris and a friend created a tea party on the roof of the Town Hall. It was priceless, and they took it down once everyone had seen it. At Queen's University in Kingston, Ontario, where Chris studied medicine, at least one wild prank is attributable to Chris: a panty raid on the nurse's residence. Oh, dear.

The first song I can remember hearing when Chris died was Standing in a broken phone booth with money in my hand. Then, of course, Fiona Apple's Sleep to Dream, printed itself on my brain followed by The Cranberries' Linger. It's amazing that I heard anything.

A Quebec section of the Trans-Canada Trail has been dedicated to Chris. Take a look the panel with his name on it whenever you're in Montreal's Old Port. Take a hike, ride your bike, in-line skate and think of Chris. Sections are dedicated to John and Dad, also.

If you like, you can visit Dorval High School and take a look at their memorial page for mentions of Chris and John.

If you want to do something in memory of Chris, please donate to The Bipolar Foundation. Maybe they'll find a treatment that would have worked for him and someone will be spared the horrors that killed him. Or, donate to a local charity so that you can see his memory live on firsthand.