The camera usually stays pointed away from the person holding it, yet some moments insist on turning it around. After decades behind the lens, a veteran shooter decided to share the fear, the fix, and the flood of messages that followed. His story ran on CTV News, and the reaction was instant. Strangers wrote about quiet shakes, anxious meals, and the hope that treatment might steady a life. The journey is personal, yet the echoes feel universal, and they keep growing.
When the storyteller becomes the story
He has filmed for more than thirty years, always focused on other people. Work honed craft, but tremor tested resolve. At fifty-four, symptoms worsened, and the stakes rose. More than a year earlier, a surgeon said the shakes could be treated. He held that thought, then faced what it might mean. CTV News soon asked to follow the path.
The day before surgery, doubt surged because fear felt rational. It is the brain, not a broken bone, and second thoughts come fast. He told his wife he could wait, yet he knew delay risked the work he loved. Courage won, because love for the job remained.
Morning brought proof. He lifted a bowl with the operated hand, and it stayed still. Hot coffee no longer splashed. Grip steadied, and breath followed. A new beginning felt real, not abstract. Relief arrived in tiny motions, and each one mattered.
How the procedure steadies a shaking hand
Essential tremor is a movement disorder that worsens with action. Hands shake while writing or placing a microphone, and focus can backfire because stress tightens the loop. Deep brain stimulation offers relief when medicines fail. Surgeons place an electrode near the circuit that misfires, then connect it to a pacemaker in the chest.
The operation lasted about five hours, and he stayed awake. Teams test placement in real time, so they see change as current flows. The goal is not a cure, yet the device can calm signals and restore control. Settings adjust over time, and patients can manage them by phone.
He knew the odds and the limits, but the promise felt tangible. He works with precision, and small errors can wreck a shot. With stimulation active, the hand steadied enough to work. The fix is technical, yet the gain is practical. It turns a taxing task into a doable one.
Living with tremor before and after treatment
Tremor shaped daily life long before the operating room. He joked while clipping microphones to distract from shaking fingers. Long drives back to the newsroom often included quiet talk about the strain. Thinking harder made the tremor worse, so effort felt like the enemy. CTV News assignments still got done, but each one cost more.
Off the clock, simple gestures became puzzles. A spoon of soup demanded focus, and a hot mug required two hands. Muscles worked, yet the mind did double duty because spill risk never left. Exhaustion followed meals, not long days, and that kind of fatigue accumulates fast.
Post-surgery, the left hand steadied first. He could lift, carry, and sip without theater. The mental load lightened, so attention shifted back to pictures and sound. Life regained slack. The right side still waits for treatment, and that next step is planned. Gratitude fills the gap between now and then.
Response, results, and what the numbers suggest — CTV News made it visible
Once the segment aired, messages poured in from parents and long-silent adults. Many had the same shakes and the same fears, and they wanted a roadmap. The story did not promise a cure, yet it showed an option. Viewers saw hands steady, and that felt like possibility, not hype. CTV News turned a private weight into shared language.
Studies track outcomes for tremor care, and they show consistent gains. One-year reductions in unilateral tremor often land above fifty percent, which changes daily life. Programs at top centers refine technique and follow patients closely. The technology continues to evolve, and remote adjustments now help some clinics support people at home.
Numbers matter because they set expectations. They also explain why surgeons keep patients awake during placement. Real-time feedback guides precise targeting, and that precision pays off later. People still need medication or tuning, but many regain control. Good data backs cautious hope, and cautious hope is enough to act.
A career of big moments, and the moment that changed course — why CTV News matters
For two decades, he and a colleague crossed Canada with a camera. They interviewed a prime minister, met a prince, and traced the Northwest Passage’s hard beauty. One assignment captured his mother’s return to Uganda, five decades after expulsion. Work stitched history to people, and it sharpened what steady hands mean on deadline. CTV News gave those journeys a home.
On another shoot, he met a renowned neurosurgeon. While he clipped her microphone, she noticed the tremor and said, “I can fix that.” The sentence opened a door he had avoided, because avoidance felt safer. They scheduled tests, weighed risks, and chose a date.
The series followed every step with unflinching calm. Viewers saw hospital lights, monitors, and a patient answering questions while an electrode slid into place. Tears came only later, when the first smooth lift told the story better than words. Hope, at last, looked like a steady cup.
Why this personal turn now guides others toward real options
The journey began as a private calculation, yet it now fuels public resolve. Messages keep arriving because people recognize themselves in the small wins. They see a path that swaps dread for agency, and they ask the right questions. Next, a second procedure should balance both hands. Through it all, CTV News continues to amplify the part that matters most: change, while not perfect, is possible, practical, and worth pursuing.
