Intensivist, Bioethicist, Poet (ICU Pandemic Diary, An ICU Doctor’s Reflections; Words that Matter); Writer (The Law of Acute Care Medicine), Violinist
Avant leur départ, les équipes de MSF participent à une formation à la réponse à l’#Ebola.
Des protocoles de prévention des infections aux procédures de réponse aux urgences, elles apprennent comment intervenir efficacement et en toute sécurité.
As Her Excellency the Right Honourable Mary Simon concludes her service as Governor General, we thank her for a lifetime dedicated to Indigenous rights, reconciliation, and service to all Canadians.
We’re honouring her work with $5 million to establish the Ajuinnata: The Mary Simon Catalyst for Mental Wellness and we’re matching every dollar up to $10 million that the Rideau Hall Foundation raises. Building on Mary Simon’s advocacy, this project will provide lifesaving counselling, culturally grounded services, and peer-led mental health care to Northern and Indigenous communities.
"'The Pitt' is standing out as almost a lighthouse, reminding everybody of the hard work that these experts and practitioners are doing, reminding of the heroism of these everyday, walk-of-life individuals who work in the service industry," Noah Wyle said in 2025. https://t.co/aeKdvyfQOf
Congratulations to the Montréal Victoire, the 2026 PWHL Walter Cup champions! An incredible and historic season — the Cup comes home for the first time 🇨🇦🏒
The Pitt is an amazingly well done show
It captures the humanity, the passion, the caring and heartbreak.
If you haven’t seen it, watch it
It brings medicine to life. And it’s issues.
Noah Wylie’s mom, his family, whole writing team and crew, cast should be incredibly proud.
"I am the son of a nurse that spent 50 years caring for other people, and I've spent decades trying to do justice to what she, and the rest of you, actually do."
"The Pitt" and "E.R." actor Noah Wyle led a rally pushing for bipartisan legislation for healthcare workers on Capitol Hill.
When I was at university, I became the youngest ever recipient of the Vasyl Stus Prize. At the time, I was fully aware that this was a huge vote of confidence that I still had to live up to. The situation is quite similar now.
The European Order of Merit was awarded for the first time in Strasbourg. We were sitting in the European Parliament’s plenary chamber, and looking at Lech Wałęsa, Angela Merkel, Javier Solana, Cardinal Pietro Parolin and other distinguished figures, I suddenly realised that I was once again the youngest in the room.
I spoke about how, after three centuries in the shadow of the Russian Empire, Ukraine is returning home to Europe. And we are paying the highest price for this. Our defenders are holding back the Russian horde, and it is only because of this that people in other European countries are still safe. A global storm is approaching. Europe is not so much about geography as it is about the values of freedom and democracy. And only our readiness to defend them will determine whether it has a future.
I believe in Ukraine. I believe in Europe. We are not hostages to circumstances; we are participants in this historic process. And I want to see how we have achieved the historic goal that previous generations of Ukrainians dreamed of. And how the slogan ‘away from Moscow, closer to Europe’ has become a reality.
And since I find myself once again in the role of the youngest, here is one of my favourite poems by Mykola Vinhranovsky. Below is the sub-line translation.
We are here again. We are the latecomers. The very last.
Who grew up from frail mothers
In a garden laid waste.
I know, it is not for silence
That volcanoes gaze
From beneath our youthful brows.
Ukraine’s fight is our fight, their cause is our cause, and their independence will be our victory.
To the Ukrainian communities in Canada and around the world celebrating their culture, identity, and traditions this Vyshyvanka Day: Canada stands with you.
For centuries, we have been captivated by its pattern. But now it is our turn to create the pattern ourselves – through our lives, our fight, and every new step we take.
Every day, Ukrainians embroider it with their own hands – defending what they hold dear, rebuilding what has been destroyed, healing wounds, teaching children, and continuing to learn themselves. We preserve our memory and build the future.
Happy Vyshyvanka Day, Ukraine! Celebrating the destiny we embroider in independence!
My first solo North American tour has come to an end, and my heart is so full. I’m still carrying all the love, energy, and beautiful moments you shared with me at every show. Thank you to everyone who came out and made this experience unforgettable.
#lukasulic#lifetour
Cher was present there when Val Kilmer died. She was devastated. As cancer stole his voice and his strength, friends faded. Calls stopped. Pity moved in. Cher didn’t.
“I moved him into my guest house,” she said. “So I could watch him myself.”
No cameras. No headlines. Just 2AM nights when he couldn’t breathe, and she was on the phone with specialists, refusing to let him face it alone.
“That’s love,” she told People. “You show up.”
They met in 1982.
She was Cher — untouchable.
He was Val — 22, Juilliard, hungry.
The tabloids sold “sex symbol couple.”
The truth? Poetry at 4AM. Philosophy debates.
“We laughed at the same things constantly,” Cher said. “He’d sleep over and it was just friendship… then it wasn’t.”
When the romance ended, the respect didn’t.
For 40 years, they were each other’s safe place.
Then 2015 hit.
Throat cancer. Surgery. Radiation. A tracheostomy that saved his life and took his voice — the voice of Iceman, Doc Holliday, Jim Morrison.
People didn’t know what to do with a legend who could only whisper.
Cher did.
“She never looked at me like I was broken,” Val wrote in I’m Your Huckleberry. “She looked at me like I was Val.”
One hospital night, he was drowning in it. Tears. Fear. Done.
Cher walked in wearing silk. No sad eyes.
“Val, are you crying because you’re so happy to see me?” she said.
He cracked up.
“I was sobbing, then laughing,” he wrote. “She knew I didn’t need a nurse. I needed to feel like me.”
She stayed. Through Val, the documentary. Through years of rasping conversations and quiet courage.
April 1, 2025. Val Kilmer died at 65 from pneumonia.
Cher was there.
Not for a photo. For him.
She was devastated.
The next morning she posted on X: “VALUS Will miss u. U Were Funny, crazy, pain in the ass, GREAT FRIEND, kids <3 U. BRILLIANT as Mark Twain. BRAVE here during ur sickness.”
She’d loved him in the ’80s. She cared for him in his final years. She mourned him when he left.
“Friendship isn’t the good times,” she said. “It’s who stays when there are no words left.”
She heard his heart long after his voice went quiet.
That’s loyalty.
Not the kind that posts.
The kind that moves you in, makes you laugh, and holds your hand when the silence comes.
They stopped being lovers in 1984.
They never stopped being family.
And when he took his last breath, the last face he knew was one that had loved him through every version of himself. 💙....