Glen Primeau was seated on a chair, watching television in his New Hampshire home, when his wife, Beverley, entered the room he calls his cave.
Looking at her face, he knew it wasn’t good news.
Glen Primeau was seated on a chair, watching television in his New Hampshire home, when his wife, Beverley, entered the room he calls his cave.
Looking at her face, he knew it wasn’t good news.
Beverly had spent the past few hours fighting back tears. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him what he needed to know.
Earlier that day in October 2022, Beverly, who is vice-president of surgical and procedural services at Elliot Hospital in Manchester, N.H., stumbled upon a word on a medical test result that made her blood run cold.
“Hepatocellular carcinoma.”
“I couldn’t breathe,” Beverly said.
It wasn’t the first time she thought she would lose him. The spectre of his death loomed since she fell in love with him three decades ago.
Primeau, who grew up in Montreal in a family that ran a textile business, was first introduced to the world of diving at 12 by his uncle who was a sports diver. His uncle pushed him into the cold lake, expecting him to rush out in minutes. But as soon as he plunged into the water, he found his calling.
After several jobs, at 20, Primeau finally became a commercial diver, a role that required him to fix pipelines, electric cable crossings and whatever needed mending underwater in zero visibility.
Once, in the mid-80s, he and his team members got swept up by the currents while drilling samples for a hydroelectric project at the bottom of the St. Lawrence River in Central Canada. He was the last to be saved by a person using a speed boat after being hurled by the water for eight miles. Soon, he was back to his job.
When they finally met, however, the wait would seem worthwhile.
That evening in October 2022 wasn’t like one of those days. Through the years, fear would be followed by relief and joy. Now, the threat came with a sense of finality.
When the doctor told Primeau over a call he had liver cancer, he was in denial.
Physically, he felt fine. “I almost asked myself, how can this be happening when I don’t feel anything?” he said.
The possibility, however, had been hanging over them for a while.
Primeau’s cirrhosis diagnosis three years ago was out of coincidence.
He had changed his job first from a commercial diver in central Canada and then as a scuba instructor in Florida — where the couple moved as Beverly found better working opportunities — to an HVAC technician in New Hampshire.
One day at work, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. At first, he thought it would heal itself. But after months of being unable to lift his arm above his head, he showed himself to a doctor and found out he had torn his ligament.
The doctor had told the couple then that it wasn’t if he would get cancer but a matter of when.
Beverly thought of their primary care doctor, who would jokingly respond when told about Primeau’s daily drinking habits. “We all like to have our drink at night,” he would say.
She wondered if support from the doctor could have prompted Primeau to leave consuming alcohol earlier. But the diagnosis strengthened Primeau’s resolve. From six to eight beer cans a day, he brought his consumption down to zero. Over time, he learned his liver had produced new tissues, which meant the organ was regenerating.
His memory problems, which doctors previously labelled as cognitive impairment, began to fade, and while watching Jeopardy!, Beverly found him as sharp as he once was. The couple hoped against all odds the threat of cancer was behind them. But here they were.
Hearing the news about cancer, Primeau’s life flashed before him. Several questions swirled in his mind. But, before answering them, he had to decide whether he had the will to live.
Beverly needed to know.
“Telling him ‘I want you to live’ is great, but he has to want it also,” Beverly said. “It was more of wanting to be respectful of his wishes.”
Primeau decided he wanted to live — for his family. He wanted to see his 22-year-old daughter graduate from university. He wanted to spend more years with Beverly. He felt he hadn’t reached the end of his life yet.
Primeau’s gastroenterologist soon connected them with doctors at Massachusetts General Hospital, an arm of the Mass General Brigham, an affiliate of the Harvard Medical School. A couple of days later, they met with surgeon Dr. Adel Bozorgzadeh, who explained the next course of action.
Bozorgzadeh told them they would ablate his tumours as a temporary measure. But more will pop up eventually, and to survive, they would need someone to donate a part of their liver.
That meant Primeau had to undergo several tests, including medical, surgical, social, psychiatric and nutritional evaluations that examined whether he was not only healthy enough to withstand the surgery but also had the necessary support to recover and weather the myriad complications that can arise after adopting someone else’s organ.
But behind the jokes, Primeau felt like he was on an island, all by himself. He had Beverly and an army of doctors labouring to treat him. But the battle was his. The pain and uncertainty were his to overcome.
“There’s support,” he said. “But it’s not like you have to hear those three words. ‘You’ve got cancer.’ ”
Meanwhile, time was working against him. If the tumour grew beyond a certain size or spread outside the liver, Primeau couldn’t be saved.
It was then that he messaged his brother Lee, a Calgary entrepreneur leading consulting and project financing companies.
For Primeau, however, he remained his coddled younger brother, who needed saving when he was stuck in the middle of the woods on his snowmobile or got into fights with strangers.
Lee, five years younger than Primeau, was rarely able to relate to his elder brother but over the years, they got closer.
“Needless to say, both of us looked like lobsters when we woke up.”
As years went by, they grew apart. Primeau continued diving while Lee completed his master’s in theology and worked with non-profits. He travelled across the globe helping to build systems and infrastructure, including medical facilities, in developing countries.
Decades later, the brothers reconnected after Lee had settled in Calgary.
Primeau told Lee about his condition without any expectations. Lee was shocked but wasn’t emotional. Throughout his years working with non-profits, he had been trained to keep his emotions behind doing the “right thing.”
His main focus was the next step. A few days later, he asked Primeau if he could donate his liver. The elder brother was overwhelmed — if anything happened to Lee, he couldn’t forgive himself.
But Lee was stubborn.
“I would say my default setting was that Glenn’s my brother,” said Lee, who spends a lot of time hiking and practising CrossFit.
The doctors had good reason to be reluctant: Lee was 65, much older than the typically acceptable age for a donor. But test after test proved Lee was not only healthy but biologically, he was in his 40s.
The doctor decided to proceed with the transplant. Meanwhile, Beverly and Primeau regularly spoke with him, asking if he, his wife, children and grandchildren, were sure about the decision.
“He goes, ‘I want to do this … stop trying to talk me out of it. I’m gonna do this for my brother. And it’s all going to be OK,’ ” Beverly said.
Fast forward to April: both brothers were at the hospital. Lee would be operated on first, after which Primeau would be given a part of his liver.
Before Lee was about to enter the operating theatre, both saw each other and smiled. “You’re looking at one another and you go, ‘Man, is this for real or what?’ ” Primeau said. “I wish my parents were alive to see this.”
Primeau was lying on his bed when Lee was wheeled into his room and hooked up to pumps and wires. Both compared their scars to see whose was larger. Both were shivering and having withdrawals from the medication. Soon, Lee returned to his room for the night.
In 36 hours, Lee began walking again, strolling in Primeau’s backyard. Doctors advised Lee to take rest and limit movement until he recovers. But he couldn’t help himself and has so far scaled four mountains in the Canadian Rockies.
As for Primeau, he suffered several complications over the months. He once had to be airlifted from his house after experiencing a septic shock. “Darn, it is expensive,” he said with a smirk. But apart from the incident and general weakness, he has been recovering at home since Father’s Day.
Primeau says his new chance at life hasn’t changed him.
“I’ve had so many accidents and it’s been so close,” he said. “So the only thing I’m happy for is to be here with my wife and daughter.”
The federal government is ordering the dissolution of TikTok’s Canadian business after a national security review of the Chinese company behind the social media platform, but stopped short of ordering people to stay off the app.
Industry Minister François-Philippe Champagne announced the government’s “wind up” demand Wednesday, saying it is meant to address “risks” related to ByteDance Ltd.’s establishment of TikTok Technology Canada Inc.
“The decision was based on the information and evidence collected over the course of the review and on the advice of Canada’s security and intelligence community and other government partners,” he said in a statement.
The announcement added that the government is not blocking Canadians’ access to the TikTok application or their ability to create content.
However, it urged people to “adopt good cybersecurity practices and assess the possible risks of using social media platforms and applications, including how their information is likely to be protected, managed, used and shared by foreign actors, as well as to be aware of which country’s laws apply.”
Champagne’s office did not immediately respond to a request for comment seeking details about what evidence led to the government’s dissolution demand, how long ByteDance has to comply and why the app is not being banned.
A TikTok spokesperson said in a statement that the shutdown of its Canadian offices will mean the loss of hundreds of well-paying local jobs.
“We will challenge this order in court,” the spokesperson said.
“The TikTok platform will remain available for creators to find an audience, explore new interests and for businesses to thrive.”
The federal Liberals ordered a national security review of TikTok in September 2023, but it was not public knowledge until The Canadian Press reported in March that it was investigating the company.
At the time, it said the review was based on the expansion of a business, which it said constituted the establishment of a new Canadian entity. It declined to provide any further details about what expansion it was reviewing.
A government database showed a notification of new business from TikTok in June 2023. It said Network Sense Ventures Ltd. in Toronto and Vancouver would engage in “marketing, advertising, and content/creator development activities in relation to the use of the TikTok app in Canada.”
Even before the review, ByteDance and TikTok were lightning rod for privacy and safety concerns because Chinese national security laws compel organizations in the country to assist with intelligence gathering.
Such concerns led the U.S. House of Representatives to pass a bill in March designed to ban TikTok unless its China-based owner sells its stake in the business.
Champagne’s office has maintained Canada’s review was not related to the U.S. bill, which has yet to pass.
Canada’s review was carried out through the Investment Canada Act, which allows the government to investigate any foreign investment with potential to might harm national security.
While cabinet can make investors sell parts of the business or shares, Champagne has said the act doesn’t allow him to disclose details of the review.
Wednesday’s dissolution order was made in accordance with the act.
The federal government banned TikTok from its mobile devices in February 2023 following the launch of an investigation into the company by federal and provincial privacy commissioners.
— With files from Anja Karadeglija in Ottawa
This report by The Canadian Press was first published Nov. 6, 2024.
The Canadian Press. All rights reserved.
LONDON (AP) — Most people have accumulated a pile of data — selfies, emails, videos and more — on their social media and digital accounts over their lifetimes. What happens to it when we die?
It’s wise to draft a will spelling out who inherits your physical assets after you’re gone, but don’t forget to take care of your digital estate too. Friends and family might treasure files and posts you’ve left behind, but they could get lost in digital purgatory after you pass away unless you take some simple steps.
Here’s how you can prepare your digital life for your survivors:
Apple
The iPhone maker lets you nominate a “ legacy contact ” who can access your Apple account’s data after you die. The company says it’s a secure way to give trusted people access to photos, files and messages. To set it up you’ll need an Apple device with a fairly recent operating system — iPhones and iPads need iOS or iPadOS 15.2 and MacBooks needs macOS Monterey 12.1.
For iPhones, go to settings, tap Sign-in & Security and then Legacy Contact. You can name one or more people, and they don’t need an Apple ID or device.
You’ll have to share an access key with your contact. It can be a digital version sent electronically, or you can print a copy or save it as a screenshot or PDF.
Take note that there are some types of files you won’t be able to pass on — including digital rights-protected music, movies and passwords stored in Apple’s password manager. Legacy contacts can only access a deceased user’s account for three years before Apple deletes the account.
Google takes a different approach with its Inactive Account Manager, which allows you to share your data with someone if it notices that you’ve stopped using your account.
When setting it up, you need to decide how long Google should wait — from three to 18 months — before considering your account inactive. Once that time is up, Google can notify up to 10 people.
You can write a message informing them you’ve stopped using the account, and, optionally, include a link to download your data. You can choose what types of data they can access — including emails, photos, calendar entries and YouTube videos.
There’s also an option to automatically delete your account after three months of inactivity, so your contacts will have to download any data before that deadline.
Facebook and Instagram
Some social media platforms can preserve accounts for people who have died so that friends and family can honor their memories.
When users of Facebook or Instagram die, parent company Meta says it can memorialize the account if it gets a “valid request” from a friend or family member. Requests can be submitted through an online form.
The social media company strongly recommends Facebook users add a legacy contact to look after their memorial accounts. Legacy contacts can do things like respond to new friend requests and update pinned posts, but they can’t read private messages or remove or alter previous posts. You can only choose one person, who also has to have a Facebook account.
You can also ask Facebook or Instagram to delete a deceased user’s account if you’re a close family member or an executor. You’ll need to send in documents like a death certificate.
TikTok
The video-sharing platform says that if a user has died, people can submit a request to memorialize the account through the settings menu. Go to the Report a Problem section, then Account and profile, then Manage account, where you can report a deceased user.
Once an account has been memorialized, it will be labeled “Remembering.” No one will be able to log into the account, which prevents anyone from editing the profile or using the account to post new content or send messages.
X
It’s not possible to nominate a legacy contact on Elon Musk’s social media site. But family members or an authorized person can submit a request to deactivate a deceased user’s account.
Passwords
Besides the major online services, you’ll probably have dozens if not hundreds of other digital accounts that your survivors might need to access. You could just write all your login credentials down in a notebook and put it somewhere safe. But making a physical copy presents its own vulnerabilities. What if you lose track of it? What if someone finds it?
Instead, consider a password manager that has an emergency access feature. Password managers are digital vaults that you can use to store all your credentials. Some, like Keeper,Bitwarden and NordPass, allow users to nominate one or more trusted contacts who can access their keys in case of an emergency such as a death.
But there are a few catches: Those contacts also need to use the same password manager and you might have to pay for the service.
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Is there a tech challenge you need help figuring out? Write to us at onetechtip@ap.org with your questions.
LONDON (AP) — Britain’s competition watchdog said Thursday it’s opening a formal investigation into Google’s partnership with artificial intelligence startup Anthropic.
The Competition and Markets Authority said it has “sufficient information” to launch an initial probe after it sought input earlier this year on whether the deal would stifle competition.
The CMA has until Dec. 19 to decide whether to approve the deal or escalate its investigation.
“Google is committed to building the most open and innovative AI ecosystem in the world,” the company said. “Anthropic is free to use multiple cloud providers and does, and we don’t demand exclusive tech rights.”
San Francisco-based Anthropic was founded in 2021 by siblings Dario and Daniela Amodei, who previously worked at ChatGPT maker OpenAI. The company has focused on increasing the safety and reliability of AI models. Google reportedly agreed last year to make a multibillion-dollar investment in Anthropic, which has a popular chatbot named Claude.
Anthropic said it’s cooperating with the regulator and will provide “the complete picture about Google’s investment and our commercial collaboration.”
“We are an independent company and none of our strategic partnerships or investor relationships diminish the independence of our corporate governance or our freedom to partner with others,” it said in a statement.
The U.K. regulator has been scrutinizing a raft of AI deals as investment money floods into the industry to capitalize on the artificial intelligence boom. Last month it cleared Anthropic’s $4 billion deal with Amazon and it has also signed off on Microsoft’s deals with two other AI startups, Inflection and Mistral.
The Canadian Press. All rights reserved.
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