George Kritikos: A Tale of Faith, Love and Resilience

In the heart of Montreal, on a summer day that marked new beginnings, my brother, George Kritikos, arrived into this world. Our parents, Nickolaos and Andriana, who hailed from the beautiful island of Rodos in Greece, welcomed their child with dreams and hopes like any parents would. But fate intertwined their dreams with a formidable challenge—George was born with Beta Thalassaemia Major, a condition that was still unnamed at his birth.

In those early years, doctors solemnly warned our parents that his lifespan would be short. Despite this, hope sparked amidst the gloom. Earnest prayers rose as a dedicated priest bestowed blessings upon George in the sterilized confines of what was expected to be his final haven. By some divine intervention or staunch determination—or maybe a mixture of both—he defied the odds; George became the embodiment of resilience.

Defying prognosis after prognosis, George’s journey wasn’t just about survival—it was a testament to the invincibility of the human spirit. Even past the age where five candles graced his birthday cake—a milestone he was never expected to see—he smiled at life’s trials with a remarkable vigor.

Throughout his life, George became a beacon within the Montreal Children’s Hospital corridors. He wasn’t just patient; he was family—a beloved figure who brought light and laughter even when skies seemed perpetually gray. His bond with everyone—from medical staff to fellow patients transcended conventional lines; they were deeply personal connections sculpted out of mutual respect and love.

His bout with Type 1 Diabetes at 22 added yet another layer to his already complex health battles. Still—armed with an inexhaustible faith and relentless determination—he pressed on. Even when iron overload loomed over his wellbeing and many friends in his Thalassemia family succumbed much too young to similar struggles—George marched forward.

It was in 1988 when the somber words of his cardiologist seemed to echo through our lives – George had only one year left to grace this world. Defiance sparked in his eyes; he wasn’t the kind to accept fate lying down.

George, at twenty-six, found love and in 1989 he got married, embarking on a partnership that fueled his will to live. He adhered to his pump with religious fervor, his oasis in a desert of misfortune. The medicine desferal was his lifeline; he would often say that it was this medicine that rescued him from the clutches of his own blood – it was comfort incarnate.

Professionally, my brother flourished. The Montreal Children’s Hospital’s Biochemical Genetics department became his second home from 1989 to 1998. Within those walls, not only did he build a career but also a reputation; so much so that in 1997, George became a face associated with hope as featured by the Montreal Gazette for Beta Thalassemia & Tay-Sachs.

George’s passion extended beyond mere job description; he was pivotal in the Thalassemia screening and education program targeted at high-risk adolescents. While doctors were didactic, George brought authenticity – it was this candid nature that students gravitated towards, waiting eagerly to converse post-conference.

One cannot recount George’s tale without paying homage to Dr. Charles Scriver – their bond was unique. Dr. Scriver not only pioneered the Montreal Beta Thalassemia screening programme but also recognized my brother’s potential to inspire. Together they canvassed conferences; McGill University being one where future doctors would be touched by the weight of George’s life with Thalassaemia Major.

From 1995 to 2001, George assumed one of his most significant roles as the President of the Quebec Society of Thalassaemia. His dedication wasn’t merely a position held; it was his passion—a part of his soul—and he infused this energy into making each event memorable.

I can recall how his eyes lit up with every successful fundraiser, particularly at the Annual Thalassaemia Valentine’s Dinner Dances. He believed in fun. To him, spreading laughter was akin to spreading love – and fundraising was made all the richer for it. He could engage a room full of people with his heartfelt stories, igniting a fire in others to help secure crucial government funding for our cause.

The early 2000s brought an incredible moment when George met Dr. Patch Adams at Montreal’s McGill University, a man who taught that laughter could heal and distract even in the darkest hours. George took away more than just an autographed book from that meeting; he embodied the very spirit of Patch Adams, carrying around a red nose to infuse optimism and amusement into the lives of children suffering from illness. His actions were perfectly captured in his life quote while donning that red nose during transfusions: ‘It’s not what you have in life, it’s what you do with it’.

In 2008, when George decided to move to Toronto for a change, it wasn’t surprising that he quickly left an indelible mark there too. The hospital’s Thalassemia blood transfusion clinic became his stage where he played his role wonderfully – being part friend, part motivator to patients and medical staff alike.

The latter part of George’s journey was a panorama painted with challenges. He grappled with Beta Thalassaemia and Type I Diabetes—a pair of daunting adversaries that shadowed his footsteps since youth. In addition, he had heart arrhythmia and asthma, which greatly impacted his quality of life; osteoporosis was also weakening his bones. Along with these physical illnesses, George dealt with mental health challenges that affected him deeply, although they were not as visible.

Yet, amidst this siege of afflictions, my brother—George—was a beacon of relentless perseverance. His laughter soothed our worries; his love and generosity built bridges. And towering above all, his faith in God was unshakable and gave him endless strength.

I vividly recall December 2022, a tumultuous time when George’s diabetic complications took a severe turn. He was admitted to the intensive care unit, facing the critical prospect of amputation—a stark reality that loomed over us ominously. Yet in a testament to his indomitable will, he battled valiantly against the odds and prevailed, not yielding even a part of himself to the disease.

Spring ushered in further trials as April and May 2023 witnessed fierce recurrences of his diabetic complications—one so severe it plunged him into a coma. Nevertheless, he confronted each resurgence with unwavering resolve—the quintessence of ‘fighting with everything you got’.

June 4th marked a significant triumph; George turned 60—a milestone he equated to someone with full health living to be 100. That celebration was not just for him but served as a beacon of hope for fellow Beta Thalassemia patients who revered him as their leader—a testament to endurance against all odds.

When September 28th arrived, it was time for George’s eternal rest. The world both mourned and celebrated his life; he had instilled hope in countless lives. It is poetic that in the same year we lost Dr. Charles Scriver—a figure central to George’s journey—the one thing he did after celebrating his life-defining birthday was to bring comfort to Dr. Scriver’s widow.

Every family has its cornerstone – the one who binds the foundations with love, laughter, and resilience. For us, that was George.

From a young age, thalassaemia weighed heavily upon him – an unchosen fate that dictated countless hospital visits and blood transfusions. But George, he turned struggle into strength; pain into advocacy. A heart that beat synchronously with the tick of a hospital clock yet was louder in its love and faith than any malady he ever faced.

Growing up alongside him, I witnessed first-hand the unwavering spirit of a man who made beneficence his life’s mission. His humor was a beacon of light even in our darkest hours, uplifting everyone around him. Strangers turned friends in mere moments – such was his charm.

George fought tirelessly for awareness of Beta Thalassemia, educating the public with both patience and eloquence. His voice carried not only the weight of personal experience but also the hope for others enduring similar battles, advocating for better understanding and support.

Despite his illness, George never lost his humor or his faith. In our late-night talks when everyone else slept, he would express his gratitude to God even though life hadn’t handed him the easiest cards to play with. ‘Why curse when you can bless?’ he’d say – and he blessed many with his presence.

As we both aged, I saw in him something truly divine – a steadfast belief in humanity’s inherent goodness anchored by unyielding faith; a man who walked with God by speaking through actions bound by love and generosity.

His perspective on life came partly from those ~800 transfusions received over six decades. Those silent donors taught him powerful lessons about human kindness without discrimination or prejudices – an invitation to embrace volunteerism as the purest form of being human. He often wondered aloud about those mysterious benefactors whose selflessness coursed through his veins, giving him life again and again.

‘I did not know them, but they knew compassion,’ he would say.

In George’s vision – a harmonious world thrived.

Written by: Nicktarios Kritikos, George’s brother