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.
As men, we often don’t ask for help. It’s just the way we are, or maybe the way we grew up. That’s definitely how I was raised – to be strong, tough, and self-reliant. So sometimes we stick to ourselves and don’t reach out, even when we need support. Luckily, I’m a big believer in always learning and evolving. And going through cancer, I realized how much I needed support and a community. Whether it was my friends and family, my hockey community, a psychologist, or the Look Good Feel Better men’s workshop, I finally figured out that I don’t have to do this – or life – on my own.
I’m an accountant but a big part of my life right now and my biggest passion is refereeing hockey. I ref all kinds of hockey games, from men’s teams to junior teams, and I mentor young kids who are getting into refereeing. I started off as the referee coordinator for our community back when my son was a kid playing hockey. When he was old enough, I asked my son if he wanted to try it out as well. Now he’s 21 and a higher-ranked official than I am. Sometimes we get to be on the ice, reffing together and I love it. Being a ref has kept me in the game and taught me a lot about myself – how to deal with difficulties, how to make decisions quickly and to stand by them, and how to continually challenge myself and improve. I’m always learning on the ice, whether it’s from a 13-year-old ref or a 65-year-old one, or just a unique situation.
When I got diagnosed with a small bowel neuroendocrine tumour and stage 4 liver cancer, I was devastated. The doctor was saying it’s not so bad, it’s manageable, it will be OK. She was so calm about it. She said that there was a treatment available and that if it didn’t work, we had other options. But all I could think about was how both my mom and my mother-in-law had died from cancer. I have two kids in their early 20s and a wife and a great life. The diagnosis kept me up at night.
I went ahead with the recommended surgery and then it was a matter of getting out of the hospital. I couldn’t wait to get back to my life and back on the ice. I had complications, though, and I ended up staying in the hospital for an extra two and a half weeks. I was on an IV and I dropped 30 pounds. I looked weak and some people thought I was on my deathbed. The doctors had told me I’d be back to my normal lifestyle in a couple months, but that wasn’t happening. And once I finally got out, I had more problems and complications, which had me in and out of the hospital for even longer. During this drawn-out process, I went through a period of depression. And I reached out for help, which was the best thing I could have done. I talked to people and now I have a team, including a psychologist.
I also attended a men’s workshop from Look Good Feel Better. For men, there’s not a lot out there – and like I said, we don’t always seek help when maybe we should. But when I heard about the workshop, I thought it seemed really interesting, and it was covering things I hadn’t paid any attention to – things like managing dry and flaky skin, shaving safely with less irritation, and managing hair loss. I figured the more knowledge I can get about things, the better. And the workshop was great. The presenter was really positive and fun. He shared a lot of tips and tricks and made them seem so easy. I found him extremely relatable and knowledgeable, and he was very open to questions and comments. Now I’m moisturizing and using a bit of cover-up on blemishes if I’m going out and just more focused on my appearance in general. For a long time, I didn’t care. But it helps me feel a little bit better, which is positive. It has become a nice routine and it has given me an opportunity to feel better about myself – to feel more confident. The whole aim for me is to get back to the way I was, and every little positive step helps.
The little things can make a big difference, and that’s why I talk about what I’ve been through. I tell young refs that I coach, about how depressed I was and how I got help. I want them to know that they should never feel shy to ask for help, and that they shouldn’t be a “tough guy” about it – we all need help sometimes.
If you catch me on the ice nowadays, you’ll catch me with a big smile on. Actually, I wake up smiling. I’m feeling really positive these days. Going through cancer taught me to enjoy every day. I don’t let things bother me as much anymore. I really appreciate time spent with my family and loved ones. It’s hard to explain, but my outlook is different now. It’s like every day is a new day, and I still get the chance to learn new things – which is an amazing thing. One of the most important things I learned going through cancer is to use the tools and to ask for help. Like I said, I didn’t grow up thinking that way – it’s something I had to learn firsthand. Use your full team. Lean on your community. Ask questions. And be happy – enjoy what time you have, because nothing is guaranteed.