‘I DON’T WANT TO LOSE HER’: Variety Village teen stands by his mom

Alexander James Morrison is as quick with a quip as ever.

Are you going by Alex or A.J. these days? I ask him, innocently. I’ve known the kid for a decade-plus at Variety Village.

“Call me what you want, Mike, just don’t call me late for dinner,” the 19-year-old says.

Ba-ba-ba-boom.

You might find A.J.’s rapier wit surprising, given that he was born without a cerebellum, a fist-sized mass that contains 80% of the brain’s neurons and is key to motor skills, cognition and myriad other functions.

“Maybe they hid it in my left buttock,” he jokes.

Presumably, wisecracks are stored elsewhere.

A.J.’s brain has rewired to compensate – but not entirely.

He has cerebral palsy. He did not crawl or say a word until he was three. At 12, he endured bone-crushing surgery to stabilize his legs. He gets around mostly by wheelchair or walker and his speech can be as halting as his gait. He’s been in physio since he was two.

Clearly, a tough road.

All of a sudden, that’s all taken a back seat.

A.J. has just learned his mom, Mary Jo Vradis, 47, needs a second kidney transplant.

This is doubly shocking for A.J. because he is also just hearing about her first transplant.

“My mom did a pretty good job of hiding it from me,” A.J. tells me. “She didn’t want to scare me and I understand that. But I’m older now. It’s time I knew.”

“I can’t hide it this time,” Mary Jo says.

We were at Variety Village in Scarborough the other day. A.J. is an “ambassador” of this sports centre catering to kids with disabilities. Mary Jo, a realtor, is on the volunteer board.

Nineteen years ago, she gave birth to A.J. while on dialysis at St. Michael’s Hospital. Her mom and brother were hooked up to other machines. Kidney failure is often a family trait. (Tests have cleared A.J.)

Mary Jo continued dialysis each night at home until A.J. was nearly five. By day, she hid her machine behind a screen. So, he never knew.

When her name finally came up on the “cadaver list” and she got a new kidney from a deceased donor, she made sure A.J. never even saw the scar. The kid had enough to deal with.

Now, after 15 years, the first kidney is failing. And Mary Jo faces a return to dialysis.

“I just can’t,” she says. “It’s like a slow death.”

So, she has begun looking for a live donor.

She has a website, mjneedskidney.com, which includes a link to an acclaimed 2013 documentary, Tales from the Organ Trade. It chronicles how some people pay live kidney donors on the black market, while others, like Mary Jo, wait in line legally. In her case, it took nine years.

A.J. has never seen the film.

“I’d like to watch it,” he says.

“It’s very graphic,” Mary Jo says. “It shows me on dialysis.”

But she agrees. Already, A.J. is scouring Google for info on kidneys.

“Mom, this is an important point in your life and I just want to know more about it,” he says.

A.J. learned of Mary Jo’s plight by overhearing phone calls. First thing he did was offer to be the donor.

No way, says his mom. No compatibility testing, even. A.J. has enough scars already.

True, but hours of swimming at Variety Village, training, jiu-jitsu and just hauling himself around with a walker have paid off.

As a baby he was so tiny his mom bathed him in a salad bowl – “a little olive oil, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers,” quips A.J. – for fear of losing him in the tub.

That baby is now a ripped young man. 

“Sure, I’m ripped,” he concedes, “but it’s not like I found a cure for cancer or split the atom.”

Granted, but …

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mike,” he says. “Don’t look a day over 29.”

You can call me 29, kid. Just don’t call me late for dinner.

“Well played, Mike. Well played.”

A.J. is working on a resume to match those abs. For starters, he has a work placement at the Village, leading tours and extoling its accessible sports and services – and cracking a one-liner or two.

“I try to be funny and make jokes to take my mind and my mom’s mind off all the pain she must be feeling,” he explains.

“I just really want to do everything I can to help her. I love her so much. I don’t want to lose her.”

And for the first time in the interview, or in the years I’ve known him, A.J., clown prince of Variety Village, breaks down and cries.

northchannelmike@gmail.com

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HOW TO HELP

We’re closing in on our goal of $260,000, with four days to go. Help push us over the top. Keep Variety Village a haven for kids with disabilities like A.J. Morrison, and for mom Mary Jo.

Watch for promos in the Sun or donate direct at sunchristmasfund.ca. Join these other recent donors on the honour roll:

Peter Nurse, Toronto, $100

Juanita MacPherson, Etobicoke, $10,000, in memory of Katherine Anne

Anne-Marie O’Donnell, Toronto, $100, in honour of James O’Donnell

Frank Falletta, Etobicoke, $40, in honour of Jessica Marginson

Zenon Chwaluk, Toronto, $100, remembering Mort Greenberg

Jason Liang, York, $200

Anonymous, Vaughan, $25

Sandra Montgomery, Pickering, $875, in honour of Sue Milne

Jack Boland, East York, $100

Karen Strobel, Winnipeg, $100, in honour of Allyster Robertson Strobel

Michael Higgs, Brampton, $1,500

Lisa “LL” Lee, Winnipeg, $50

Macy Louvet-Maik, Beaconsfield, $100

Senna Louvet-Maik, Beaconsfield, $100

Dennis Reinsborough, Scarborough, $50

Anonymous, Richmond Hill, $100

Esther Cannon, Richmond Hill, $100

Tom Dryburgh, Scarborough, $50

Anonymous, Richmond Hill, $50

Nancy Oomen, North York, $100

Nadine Rana, Style & Grace Cleaners, Scarborough, $500, in honour of clients

Graeme & Brian Gaudet, Ajax, $200

Anonymous, Vaughan, $100

Anonymous, $100, in honour of Dan Woods

Janice Andrews, Markham, $100

TOTAL TO DATE: $246,391