“You’ve got to mean it, son.”
During his early life, these words were a guiding principle for Alexander, reminding him that anything worth doing required full commitment. As he grew older, his father’s words took on even greater significance as he faced the challenges of life with cystic fibrosis (CF).
Diagnosed at six, Alexander’s parents were told he wouldn’t live past his teens. There is no cure for CF—only treatments that can help people live longer, healthier lives—and in the 1970s, most doctors warned patients that competitive sports would be out of the cards for them.
But Alexander had a passion for sports. With unwavering support from his parents and care team, he defied expectations, playing competitive soccer and hockey and refusing to let his condition define his potential. Yet as Alexander grew, he became increasingly aware of the medications, treatments and self-discipline his body required. In the back of his mind, he began to grasp the gravity of his diagnosis.
When Alexander’s father passed away, life’s fragility became undeniable, but it also taught him an invaluable lesson: work hard, embrace what matters, and never let a day pass without telling people how you feel.
It was this understanding that shaped Alexander’s mantra: “Never quit, never quit, never quit.”
Determined to beat the odds—or at the very least, hold them at bay for as long as he could—Alexander pursued a career in physical education, dedicating two decades to teaching, even as his lung capacity sat at just 50%. Alexander’s mantra echoed in his mind with every challenge CF threw his way and became the message he passed on to his students and the teams he coached.
At 42, Alexander was hospitalized for the first time due to a severe CF exacerbation. After six months, he returned to teaching, but his health rapidly declined. On November 7, 2014, he taught his last class.
Alexander had always known a double-lung transplant wasn’t just a possibility—it was an eventuality. But facing the reality of it felt different. The initial conversation in 2016 was intense. Despite being deemed a strong candidate for transplant, Alexander hesitated. A new line of experimental drugs had just been approved in Canada, and he was holding out hope that these medications would eventually be developed or approved for his specific CF mutations. He wanted to make sure that all options were exhausted before turning to transplant.
Still, he knew that whatever he decided, his wife, Susan, would be there for him. They had met at 16, attended university in the same city, and taught at the same school. She was his rock, and everything he did was to ensure he would get as much time as possible with her.
By the end of summer 2018, Alexander could wait no longer. His health was failing, and a transplant had become his last hope. He was finally added to the wait list.
“Before I received the gift of life, I’d forgotten what it was like to feel well,” Alexander remembers. “I spent much of my day ‘doing’ only for myself. Daily routines were onerous and mounting, occasionally resulting in frustration and tears.”
As Alexander waited for his transplant, his days revolved around physiotherapy, countless medications and exercising—lots and lots of exercise, even as sick as he was. His endurance, strength and time spent moving were limited—but every single day, Alexander made his way downstairs to his home gym, keeping his mantra in mind: never quit, never quit, never quit.
He was exhausted, but he could still smile.
“The smiling was also part of my care. Seeing the good remains part of my everyday life,” Alexander explains.
Then one day, the call came—a set of lungs were waiting for him.
Tapping into every ounce of strength he had; Alexander was determined to walk into the hospital unaided. The 12-hour transplant surgery was followed by a blur of delirium—and to this day, he only vaguely remembers being extubated or taking his first steps. But within a few weeks, reality set in: Alexander’s oxygen levels were perfect, even without extra support. Before the transplant, his oxygen would drop within seconds. Now, he had a second chance at life.
After Alexander’s transplant he was required to do physiotherapy three times a week, but he committed to it every single day. He was excited. “That was my thing!” he says. Alexander wanted to exercise. He’d push himself every session, and as the weeks passed his lung function kept increasing.
“Going from not being able to walk 15 feet to being able to exercise without oxygen, to walking my dog, to swimming in my pool in the backyard… it’s incredible,” Alexander says.
While transplant is not a cure for CF, it has changed Alexander’s life in a profound way.
“There’s not a day that passes that I’m not grateful and that I don’t think about my donor and everyone who has helped get me to where I am,” Alexander remarks. “Choosing to donate is a selfless act, one that can give someone another tomorrow and give the people who love them more time together.”
As Alexander looks to the future—RV trips across Canada with his wife, and more time fishing—he recognizes that he’s received something priceless: more time.
“When my time is up, it’s up. But if there’s a chance for more… there is no greater gift. I made a promise to myself and to my donor to honour them and their gift every day. And I think I’ve done just that.”