I’ve had two surgeries now – a partial mastectomy and a lymph node dissection. I look different than I did before, but I don’t care. I still wear bathing suits and little strapless tops. If somebody sees a scar, well, whatever.
I’ve always tried hard to keep myself in shape and looking good. I have four boys, and quite often people would say, “Wow, you’ve had four kids? You’re lucky, you look great!” And I’d think, “This isn’t luck – I exercise and I eat well.” It was always important to me to try and look my best. With cancer, all of a sudden, no matter what I was doing, I’d be looking my best in the moment I was at, but it wasn’t quite where I wanted to be. I found that really tough. I still do.
I’ve become comfortable with my post-cancer appearance, though. Don’t get me wrong, the changes were hard. The most challenging was losing my hair, without a doubt. I still miss my long hair. And when it was coming out, it took me back to being a little girl, watching my mom lose her hair as she went through treatment for a brain tumour. I’d look in the mirror and think to myself, “I’m becoming my mom.” She’s not with us anymore, so that was scary.
“Scary” is the main word that comes to mind when I think of my cancer journey. Right from the very beginning, I felt fear. Two summers ago, on a beautiful sunny evening, I was sitting outside while my partner was inside making us dinner. I like to tuck my hand under my arm and rest it there, and when I did, I felt a lump. I called my doctor and from there, things moved quickly. I had a biopsy and that was scary. Over the next 10 months, I can’t even tell you how many tests and biopsies and X-rays and CT scans and MRIs I had. It was a blur. I felt like I needed a personal assistant to manage all those appointments.
My team was fantastic, though, so even though it was all very scary, I had faith in them.
Attending Look Good Feel Better’s workshops helped ease the fear, too. When I was feeling scared, the workshops allowed me to come together with other women so we could go through it together. They gave me a sense of community and helped me to feel less alone. Even if we weren’t at the same point in our treatments, I got an appreciation of where they were and what they’d been through and where I was headed.
The women conducting the workshops were kind and empathetic and supportive. And the information I learned was so valuable. I needed the reminder to take care of myself. And I realized that the littlest things – like putting concealer to the area under my eyes after a bad night’s sleep – could make me feel so much better. I also loved the workshop learning about wigs and hair alternatives. I’m grateful I was able to get a wig, but it didn’t feel right wearing it to the hospital for treatments. I was with a lot of other people going through the same thing, and to wear the wig didn’t feel unified. I hadn’t known about all the other options, like hats and scarves and things.
I’m on the other side of treatment now. I’m doing all the things I love again – going to indie alternative shows at different music venues in Toronto with my partner, kayaking and cycling, going to yoga classes, spending time with my adult kids, and working at a brokerage. I focus on staying mindful and positive. For every bad thing in life, there’s got to be a flip side – a positive. And for me, the positives are that I had an amazing team of physicians, that I live in this wonderful country, that I have access to health care, and that I have a great community – my fantastic partner and amazing kids and incredible network of friends. I fill my heart with the positives.
When I first found the lump, I wasn’t even worried – it was high up, above my breast, about halfway between my neck and my nipple. It was during COVID, but my doctor quickly got me a referral for a mammogram and an ultrasound. He thought it was probably nothing, as I’ve had benign cysts in my breasts since my early 20s, but he sent me anyway. Well, as soon as I saw the mammogram technician’s face, I could tell that the news wasn’t good.
I got the official results from my doctor about three weeks later. I was devastated. He arranged for the surgeon to see me. I had a biopsy and then a surgery in quick succession. Testing from the surgery showed that the cancer was actually quite aggressive, which the doctors hadn’t initially thought, and so I had to go on a course of chemotherapy and then radiation.
When I was going through the initial diagnosis and early days of treatment, I at first didn’t understand how I was going to cope, let alone live a normal life. But with time, I began to accept my new reality. I leaned on my friends and family members, especially those who had been through the same thing – they were a huge help. My friends showed up with thoughts, gifts, and meals. It was very touching and made me realize how loved I was. They were there for me through it all and consistently lifted up my spirits.
I always have short hair, but I didn’t want to go bald. That was hard. Watching my hair fall out in the shower, going all over the place, was a reminder that yeah, this is real. I have cancer. Having to wear a wig bothered me at first as well, especially because my daughter was getting married soon and I just wanted to look like myself. I was far more concerned with being healthy than I was with my appearance, but having my appearance change so drastically undoubtedly had an effect on me. I lost my hair, I lost my eyebrows, and I looked pale. I’d look in the mirror and feel that I looked so different, which only made me feel worse. I wanted to perk myself up a bit and also to learn how I could look better for my daughter’s wedding, so I signed up for the Look Good Feel Better workshop.
The workshop was great. There was one woman there with a very bubbly personality who put on this fantastic-looking short pixie wig when we were talking about wigs, and it really inspired me. The moderators were so good, so compassionate. They shared about their own experiences and created a sense of connection. I came away with some great tips – wigs, eyeliner, how to wear blush. It’s true, what they say – when you look good, you feel good.
My daughter got married last summer, and I looked great at the wedding. I had hair. And most importantly, I felt great, too.
I guess it never feels like “the right time” to get cancer, but I can’t help feeling like the timing just hasn’t been on my side. I was diagnosed during the pandemic, my husband’s father passed away while I was going through treatment, and my son Christopher was just four years old. It hasn’t been easy.
It all started back in December 2020, right around Christmas Eve. I found a lump and rushed to my family doctor, who sent me for a mammogram and X-ray. Everything is fine, I was told. The following spring, I found another lump, but my doctor still said not to worry. All the same, something wasn’t sitting right with me. When the lump grew that summer, I went back again and was told I needed a biopsy. Everything escalated quickly after that.
In September 2021, I found out that I had breast cancer that had spread to my lymph nodes and that it was aggressive. All my life, I’d been healthy – I ate well, exercised, and had never really had any health issues. So the diagnosis was hard to accept.
Suddenly, I was immersed in tests and appointments – and then thrust into the world of treatment, starting with a mastectomy and lymphadenectomy, then chemotherapy and radiation. It was tough. My husband, Chad, would drive me to the hospital for my chemo appointments but he couldn’t come in with me, due to the COVID protocols. And we couldn’t see family or get as much as support as we would’ve liked, also because of the pandemic. I’m an introvert but it was very hard. I felt so isolated. And although I struggled with nausea, bone pain, and exhaustion, I didn’t have the luxury of lying in bed all day. I had a young child who needed me.
Talking to a four-year-old about cancer is no easy task. I’ve always been careful about what I say and the words I choose. It has definitely affected Christopher – he’s clingy and doesn’t want to leave my side. But overall, he’s very resilient and has been a trooper. I’m very fortunate for that.
During chemo, Chad shaved my head for me. I thought it would be traumatic – I loved my long brown hair – but it ended up being a beautiful moment. Christopher held my hand the whole time and said, “You’re doing great, mama. You look beautiful.”
Before COVID, and before cancer, I’d had this grandiose vision of travelling the world with my husband and son. Cancer turned everything on its head – forget travelling, making dinner wasn’t even happening. At night, I would go to put Christopher down and fall asleep before he would. It was a rough ride, but we got through it.
Look Good Feel Better’s workshops were a great source of support. I wanted advice from professionals on everything from skincare to wearing a headscarf, and my social worker directed me to the workshops. I attended all of them and they addressed every question I had – and some that I hadn’t even thought of yet. I wanted to accept how I looked – after a mastectomy, after the hair loss – but that doesn’t mean that I wanted to look bad. I still wanted to look like myself and to feel good. The workshops helped immensely, and it also helped being surrounded by all these women at different stages of their cancer journey. It was the first time I felt that I wasn’t alone.
Cancer robbed me of a lot of things – from having to take a leave from work and quit volunteering to not being able to take my son to the playground. One of the biggest things it robbed me of was my confidence and self-esteem. Having someone guide me and hold my hand, and help me realize that I’m not alone, really helped to bring back my confidence. It was uplifting.
These days, I’m feeling good. I’m proud of my body and how far it has gotten me – through difficult surgeries, through chemo, through radiation. And seeing that I’m not alone has given me strength.
When I first found out that I had fatty liver disease, cirrhosis, and a tumour in my liver, I couldn’t believe it. I felt fine – no negative effects at all! But my doctors prescribed surgery and chemotherapy, and put me on a transplant list. I wondered: “Why me?” The last drink I’d had was years before, at a wedding. And when I pictured myself getting old and dying, the word “transplant” had never entered my mind. But there I was, at age 62, on the transplant list.
There are different stages of grief and one of them is acceptance. When I finally got the call that a liver was ready for me last December, I wasn’t afraid. I felt that whatever was going to happen would happen. I’d written letters to all my kids, just in case.
I got the call on December 20th, right before Christmas. I went to the hospital that very day, and they finished the surgery on the 21st. I was in the hospital for 16 days, so I came home in early January – I came out of the hospital and everything was over, Christmas, New Year’s – I completely missed the holidays. Everyone says, “You got the best gift, a new liver.” And don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful for it. But they don’t know all the in-between stuff. And it was so unexpected and sudden. I’d been on the transplant list for 13 months.
Now, I’m feeling good. I take about 30 pills a day but I’m feeling really good – great, even. I’m off work until the summer and I’m focused on my recovery. I have three children and five grandchildren, and another one on the way. I’m looking forward to spending time with the baby. And I’m looking forward to my hair growing in more. Right now, it’s growing in slowly and unevenly. It just sort of stands up – I feel like a porcupine.
When I was going through my treatment, I lost a lot of hair – it was falling out all over the place and had gotten really patchy. So I got it shaved off. I had a hard time looking at myself in the mirror after that. It felt so jarring to see my bald head. The hospital had a little resource centre with wigs and caps, and that’s how I learned about Look Good Feel Better (LGFB).
The LGFB workshop and getting that kit in the mail changed my whole outlook of how I think about myself. I started caring about my appearance more. I began wearing earrings and makeup to accentuate the positives, like my blue eyes. I learned so many great techniques – how to put on eye shadow and where to start the eyeliner so it doesn’t bring my eye down and how to apply blush properly.
I talked to my psychiatrist about this and he pointed out that while doctors treat the illness, it’s important to look at the person as a whole – how they feel about themselves and how they look at themselves. I agree. LGFB is an important resource because it helps people like me to feel normal again. I was treated as a patient for so long – going for so many procedures and getting lots of bad news. It made me feel forgotten, like I was an illness and not a person. LGFB made me feel like myself again, and like I was getting my life back. When I looked better, I felt better, and most importantly, I started feeling like myself again, or a new version of myself. It really did make a difference. I’m not just my cancer – I’m so much more.
Before I got sick, I was in the best shape of my life. I was teaching group fitness classes at my local gym and working out just about every day. It’s a bit of a passion, and I feel weird if I don’t do something active every day. I love walking, hiking, and cycling – I like to be outdoors in the summer. I walk all year long. And although I had to stop teaching, I still love participating in fitness classes at the gym. It’s such an amazing feeling to be in a space with a bunch of other people who are all working at different levels and have different goals. There’s this strong sense of community and energy.
Cancer touches so many people’s lives. When I suddenly stopped showing up at the gym every day, people noticed – and when I finally came back after 15 months of cancer treatment, they all wanted to know where I’d been. I’m really open about it. I tell everyone what’s going on. And it has helped me connect with so many other people who faced cancer. Hearing their stories always gives me perspective and makes me feel less alone on my journey.
My diagnosis was unexpected. I was feeling completely fine. It was during the pandemic and I was working at home, just like everyone else. I got up to get a coffee, and my husband said he heard a big thud. He turned around and I was having a seizure on the floor. The next thing I knew, there were paramedics standing over me. I had no idea what had happened. It turns out I had a tumour in two of the lobes of my brain. It couldn’t be removed – it had to be treated chemically, with radiation and chemo. My long treatment journey began.
I’m someone who usually goes 125 miles an hour, all day long. I’m like the Energizer Bunny. I have more energy than my teenaged kids. Not having any energy all of a sudden was really frustrating. I couldn’t exercise hard, which distressed me. As someone who has always struggled with their weight, I was really struggling now – I couldn’t work out, I was on a steroid that blew me up like a balloon, and I was turning to food for comfort. This physical change wasn’t good for my self-confidence. I didn’t want to look at myself in the mirror.
I first learned about Look Good Feel Better (LGFB) from my friend who had breast cancer. She raved about the workshop. She had enjoyed herself immensely, met some other nice ladies, and came home with this bag full of amazing products – she said it felt like Christmas. So I signed up too. At first, it was just an excuse to lock myself in my bedroom and to have an hour to myself for the online webinar. I looked forward to it, the way you’d look forward to going to the spa or to get your nails done. But I walked away thinking, “Wow, I really do feel better about myself!”
The makeup tips were helpful and practical, and the session was so relaxing – it felt like having a chat with a girlfriend. With cancer, our life can become consumed by medications and doctor’s appointments and blood test results and worrying about the future. To sit around and talk with other women was so healing. To me, that was the most important part. Just to take some time for myself to talk about something fun that I’m interested in – that’s so valuable. It’s like my time exercising – it’s both “me time” and time spent in community. It helps ground me and makes me feel better physically and mentally. And that’s what I got from LGFB, too.
It all started with a routine eye check. My optometrist was doing her due diligence, taking pictures of the back of the eye. She spotted some inflammation and sent me for a CT scan, concerned that it might be a problem with my brain. The scan showed that nothing was wrong with my brain, but the inflammation wouldn’t go down.
That’s when I began – bouncing from doctor to doctor, for a barrage of tests – blood tests and X-rays and MRIs and three different biopsies. It was quite the journey, but in November, the results finally came in – and they were positive for seminoma, which is a type of testicular cancer.
Naturally, that’s not news that anyone wants to receive. When I got diagnosed, I was at a pretty pivotal time in my life. I had just started a new career in sales after years in the automotive industry. I had debated retiring, but instead I chose to do something I love – because you know what they say: if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life. It was such a nice transition from my previous corporate role, with its endless meetings and weekly KPIs. I was really enjoying doing something new.
On top of that, my eldest daughter had just gotten married. And the holidays were approaching. We had travel plans, and things to do. I was 61 years young, and I didn’t see it coming.
Luckily, I did some reading about testicular cancer and learned that the success rate for curing it is high, so that helped a lot mentally. I’m right in the thick of it now – going for chemo treatments every weekday, and then having a nurse come to my home on Saturdays to give me an injection, which helps boost up my white blood cells. That injection makes every bone in my body ache. It feels as though someone is cutting through the bone with a rusty saw. And the chemo’s not fun, either. I’ve lost my hair and I’m losing weight. I’m bald, but I look good.
No matter what’s going on physically, what really matters is what’s going on mentally. And mentally, I’m strong. I have my family fully behind me in all of this, and they’re mentally strong, too. We’re an extraordinarily close family – we’re truly joined at the hip. And every single day I read the Bible and pray. That’s the best oncologist – believing in a greater power.
One thing I’ve found on this journey, though, is that as a man with cancer, it can be a bit lonely. When I lost my hair, I went online to search for a hat or something to cover my head. It was winter and I wanted to keep warm and to look good. I wanted to find the right hat, with no fixings or plastic seams or labels – maybe something made of bamboo or merino wool. But I got nowhere in my searches. Well, there was a massive amount of hits, actually – but everything was geared toward women. There wasn’t a whole lot of information or products designed for men.
But in my search, I came across Look Good Feel Better, and that’s how I ended up in one of the workshops. It was such a nice atmosphere – friendly, supportive, and very informative. And the products that I was sent were a real highlight. As a man, I never thought I’d need to moisturize or use an eyebrow pencil – but if I’m losing my eyebrows, it turns out that I do. It was so helpful to receive all the products and to learn how to use them. And it was fantastic for the workshop to be designed specifically for men. Cancer affects us all. It doesn’t have a gender or a skin colour or an ethnicity or a nationality. It’s so important to have an organization like this that’s open to all.
Sera: When we feel unwell mentally, it can have a dramatic impact on our healing process physically. For me, looking good has long been paramount in feeling better. Before I was diagnosed with cancer, I suffered from an autoimmune disease, chronic fatigue, and fibromyalgia – so not feeling top-notch has kind of been my thing for about 15 years. And even if I feel like crap, I always want to look good on the outside because that makes me feel better. It’s part of my rehabilitation.
I’m in the midst of chemotherapy treatment now, and I will not allow cancer and my treatment to dictate how I look. Yeah, okay, I’m bald, and my skin is blotchy and hyper-pigmented and dry, but whatever. I’m going to try to be as attractive as possible by wearing my head scarf in the most fashionable way or my wig as best I can, and by taking care of my skin. I always have a face full of makeup when I go out, even if it’s to the hospital for chemo. I wear my little heeled booties, too – not a leisure suit or whatever. Whether it’s vanity or not, I don’t care – it makes me feel better. And looking good is a big part of my healing process. It makes me feel more like my regular self and gives me a sense of control.
With cancer, we feel out of control a lot. My journey started during the pandemic. I’d had a persistent cough for many weeks after having had COVID, and I was having trouble breathing. I ended up in the ER, where I got a chest X-ray. The doctor noticed some striations and sent me to a respirologist, who ordered a CT scan. They found some nodules in my lungs and something in my left breast. It was a serendipitous find, thankfully. I was sent for a mammogram and an ultrasound, and then a biopsy, and then the results came in: stage 1 ductal carcinoma.
Frank: It hit us like a ton of bricks when they first told us. Everything started to spin and we had a hard time grasping the situation we were in.
Sera: Getting the diagnosis definitely sucked. There’s a strong history of cancer in my family – my mom had breast cancer, as did all of her sisters – so I wasn’t shocked when I got the news, but I was upset. I know it sounds ridiculous and cliché, but the timing was just so bad. I had just gotten a new promotion at work that I was really excited about, Frank and I were enjoying spending time together and travelling, we were relishing time spent with our two adult children, and Frank, who’s an entrepreneur, was busy building his business. I felt ripped off and had a “why me, why now” feeling.
But there was nothing to do except to keep moving forward. And after my diagnosis, things moved quickly. I had a partial mastectomy within a week, and the resulting pathology showed that the cancer was aggressive, with likely recurrence. I was given my treatment plan: chemotherapy, radiation, and five years of hormone therapy. So much has changed in such a short period of time, from a simple cough. It has been quite the whirlwind for us, but we gotta do what we gotta do.
During my first chemo treatment, less than two weeks in, I lost my hair. That was hard. I had long, thick, curly hair, and it was something I was known for. Losing it was a big deal and something to get used to. I don’t think that makes me – or any woman who says the same thing – vain.
During this same first session, my oncology nurse gave me a lot of resources. One of the things she highly recommended was the Look Good Feel Better (LGFB) program. When I looked it up and saw that it was all about skincare and makeup and wigs and head accessories, I immediately signed up. And the sessions were great – highly interactive and full of insights. I already knew how to put on makeup, but a lot of what they taught was new to me – like about not using makeup wands when you have cancer but using Q-tips and cotton balls instead, for example. I learned a lot from the head accessories and wigs workshop, too. I’ve mastered the art of head scarves now. And it was comforting to see all the other people on the call, from all different parts of Canada, who were going through the same thing.
Frank: Losing one’s hair, the skin changes – these are things that the average person has never had to deal with. Hair is part of the female identity, and to go from having crazy long curly beautiful hair to nothing has gotta be a huge shock to the system. How does one deal with that? Having resources that someone can turn to is worth its weight in gold.
Sera: When the kit was delivered to me – holy cow! I was so surprised. I knew it was coming in the mail, but seeing the size and fullness of it, how every little detail was covered – from the toner to the concealer – and how this was available for people who had no clue how to deal with skincare and makeup – it made me cry. LGFB had everything covered. And I knew that there were people out there who would be using the products and that this would put a smile on their faces and help them to feel better about themselves. It’s exactly in the name of the organization – look good, feel better.
Frank: I think what LGFB is doing is fantastic. Luckily, we’re in a position where we don’t go without, but I know that not everyone is like that. I sat there with Sera when that kit came, and we spent about an hour going through each item. I’ll be honest – I don’t understand anything about the different products. But seeing Sera’s reaction was incredible. Anything that can help someone who’s going through something like cancer is something that’s worth supporting.
And the workshops allow people who are in the same situation to get together, even if it’s just for moral support. Seeing Sera participate in the workshop, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do something like that before – she was really excited and gunning to go. Fifteen minutes before the workshop started, she was ready to go, with all the stuff set out around her that she needed.
Little things like that make a big difference. People going through any form of cancer treatment can feel helpless. It’s out of their control. People don’t get cancer, especially the type Sera has, because of anything they did – it’s just bad luck. For someone who likes to fix things, a “fixer” like Sera, this can cause a real internal struggle. And so to see something that can bring some brightness or happiness to someone going through that type of situation, and that can restore a bit of that feeling of personal control, is just incredible.
Sera: We’re both so thankful for everything that LGFB is doing. I downloaded their recent magazine, and I’ve read every page of that magazine and watched all the embedded videos. All the tips and tricks, and hearing people’s stories, is amazing.
Frank: It’s empowering.
Sera: Exactly, it’s empowering. It makes me feel better and shows me that I’m going to get through this. On days that I’m feeling down or sorry for myself, I look through my bookmarked magazine and say to myself, “Okay, you got this girl!”
Frank: That’s exactly why I was compelled to donate to LGFB. This organization makes people feel better, and that’s powerful. People don’t know about LGFB until they need it. But I’m so grateful that it exists.
There was so much going on in the world when I was diagnosed. Everyone was already hurting so much. It was the very beginning of the pandemic when I started having odd symptoms. The world was in lockdown. I could tell that something wasn’t right with my breast, but I was in denial – and it felt like we were all dealing with so much already. I didn’t want to raise my hand and cause any commotion.
Way before I was diagnosed, I already had a complicated relationship with cancer. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer at the young age of 35 and died at 40. I was 16 at the time, and as the oldest of three kids, I was expected to take care of my younger brothers. Fast forward a few decades and my dad died of cancer as well. And I’ve lost everybody in between – aunts, neighbours and friends’ parents – too. When I hear the word “cancer,” I think, “Oh, no, that doesn’t end well in our family.”
When I finally called my doctor, it took forever to get in. Doctors were overwhelmed and everything was being pushed back. I started to panic. Months went by. I knew that I needed to advocate for myself, but I didn’t know how or who to push out of the way. It was a real internal struggle. Everyone was going through something so I felt I needed to shoulder it quietly. Finally, nearly a year after my first symptoms, I had the necessary tests and got the answer that I knew was coming – I had breast cancer.
I had a double mastectomy with reconstruction, went on hormone therapy, and did 25 rounds of radiation. There have been a lot of challenges and side effects, but I’ve gotten past them.
In some ways, it was both the best of times and the worst of times. It’s obvious why it was the worst – cancer is already so alienating and COVID complicated things, slowing everything down and forcing me to go through the treatments alone. But it was also the best because as I was hibernating, so was the rest of the world. Everyone was working from home, and my two kids, who are in their 20s, came home. I had 24/7 care from my husband and kids, which I never would’ve had during non-COVID times. It was so special that we had that concentrated time together. I was also able to heal on my own without people rushing over to visit, and I was able to rest without any pressure or guilt – because that’s what the rest of the world was doing, too. Everybody was going through something and everyone could relate to that feeling of isolation.
COVID brought some good stuff – and one of them was being able to do the Look Good Feel Better skincare workshop from home. I don’t think I would’ve had the energy or the gumption to head into a room full of strangers for a workshop, but being able to participate virtually was really liberating.
I’ve always been the caregiver, the stronger one – from the time I was a child. So it was a real reversal for me to suddenly be the one being taken care of. My family said, “It’s your turn now, we’ve got this, we’ve got you,” and that meant everything. And COVID allowed them to cocoon with me at home. I’m so grateful that I have such a wonderful support system. My friends really showed up as well. I had one friend who lives on my street who would do things like walk a heart in my driveway after a fresh snowfall and then text me, “Go look out the window.” Sometimes, the simplest things can be the most meaningful. And sometimes the darkest times can also be the brightest.
Just before the pandemic started, in January of 2020, my husband was diagnosed with moderate chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and atrial flutter, a type of abnormal heart rhythm. That put a damper on some of our usual activities, like travelling down south in the wintertime. And then, just a month or two later, I received my own diagnosis.
When I noticed blood in my urine, I went to my doctor right away. She did some tests and sent me for an ultrasound and then an appointment with a urologist. We live in Pilot Mound, south-west of Winnipeg, and I had to go into the city for the appointment. The urologist sent me to a kidney doctor, and after more testing, the diagnosis was confirmed: I had cancer in my right kidney.
I had an operation that September to remove my kidney, and everything was good for a while. The next summer, in 2021, I was out kayaking with my daughter. And that night, when I came home and went to the bathroom, I noticed a couple of drops of blood. Panicked, I called my doctor’s office and left a message. The receptionist phoned me back on Monday morning and told me to come in right away. And pretty soon I had a new diagnosis: uterine cancer. I had my second operation that December, to remove my uterus.
My brother passed away in 2013 from cancer, and he never had the chance to have surgery. He was gone within months – there was nothing the doctors could do. So each time I was diagnosed, I was grateful to have the surgeries available to me. I was given a chance, so I took it. I thought to myself, “OK, I’m going to have an operation, they’re going to get it all, I have a chance.” I believed with all my heart that I was going to beat it. When facing cancer, I believe in being positive and having a good attitude. And to keeping people around us who are positive, too.
After my surgeries, I had six rounds of chemotherapy. It wasn’t easy. After each treatment, I’d be good for two or three days and then it would hit me, and I’d be in bed for three or four days, completely exhausted and nauseous. I kept a journal throughout my treatment, noting how I felt every day – like the metallic taste in my mouth or the numbness and tingling in my leg. It affected me mentally, too. I’d have random moments where I’d cry a lot. And it just felt so wrong to be stuck in bed, unable to do anything. I’m not the type of person to just sit around. I’m a go-go-go type of person. I’m 73 now, and I love to keep active – kayaking, fishing, playing with my grandchildren, travelling with my husband, and taking care of my gardens. But these days I have less strength and I’m not supposed to be out in the sun.
Losing my hair during chemo didn’t really bother me. But I took the virtual Look Good Feel Better workshop on skincare and cosmetics, and that was wonderful. I needed some support – my skin was so dry, my head was hot, and my whole body was itchy. I loved learning about sunscreen, makeup, and how to do my eyebrows so they look realistic. The instructor was down to earth, and the tips were all practical. I was very pleased with it.
The workshop also helped give me a more positive outlook. And it brings me back to what I was saying before about attitude. I think it’s just so important to maintain that positive mindset – to be optimistic, to believe the treatment will work, and to know that I’m going to be good. If someone is a bit of a doubter, this type of workshop can give them hope. And everybody needs hope and a way to maintain a positive mindset when they’re going through cancer.
Shortly after I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I lost my job. It was the spring of 2020, and the bank where I worked was making major cut-backs due to COVID restructuring. I got laid off.
At first, it felt like everything bad was happening all at once: this blow to my career, my diagnosis, a lumpectomy with surprising and disappointing findings, and then a bigger surgery with a complicated recovery. It was a lot of shocks to the system all at once. But amongst everything that was going on, losing my job was actually the best thing, because it made it possible for me to focus on my treatment and taking care of myself.
Getting laid off also allowed me to do one of the things I’d been wanting to do, which was publish my first children’s book. I accomplished this while going through treatment. The book is called The Thing with Wishes, and it’s about being thankful for what we have. Even though we may have big dreams and big wishes, sometimes we have to look around and just be thankful for what we have right here, right now. The story was inspired by what I was going through.
In the classic Pinocchio, the song goes, “When you wish upon a star, your dreams come true.” But sometimes, no matter what we wish, life just doesn’t turn out the way the way we imagined it. Getting cancer certainly isn’t in anyone’s plans or dreams. It was a long road for me – from getting diagnosed in June 2020 to finishing treatment in April 2022. I went through six rounds of chemotherapy, including a horrible allergic reaction to the treatment, and a month and a half of radiation. There were days when I was really down. I wondered if I’d get to watch my daughter graduate from grade eight, let alone from high school. Thankfully, I don’t think that way anymore. I’m focused on living every day of my life to the best that I can.
My husband, my 13-year-old daughter and I are huge Disney fans. We plan a trip at least once a year. In August we went to Disney World in Florida and looking forward to thrilling experiences helped me get through my treatment. Being a fan also helped me get through it. I know how to find the fun and the magic in an experience.
When I lost my hair during chemo, it was really hard. I’ve always thought of myself as a strong, confident, independent woman, but when I started to look sick, people started treating me differently. I didn’t like that. The Look Good Feel Better workshops helped me to not look like I was sick. I learned how to tie head scarves and how to apply makeup. And I had fun with it. When my friends asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I told them I wanted hats. And I received so many great ones – fun hats and fuzzy tuques and beautiful scarves and a funny Santa hat that I wore through the holidays. I would take silly pictures with the hats and send them to my friends. And my husband got me a fantastic tuque with long brown hair attached, pretty much like my real hair used to be, that I would wear to my daughter’s hockey games. I might have felt different, but I managed to have fun with it and to boost my confidence.
Because the thing with wishes is, it’s not the big dreams and wishes that are most important, but gratitude for what we have right in front of us– like great friends, an amazing husband and daughter, and a funny hat that makes me smile.