I was a new translator for Look Good Feel Better when I was offered the chance to attend a workshop to see for myself how a session was run.

I had already translated a number of testimonials from people who’d experienced a workshop, and what always stood out was the warm welcome from the volunteers, their expertise and their respect for the participants. Some mentioned how, once the workshop had begun, apprehensions disappeared and were replaced by joy—a feeling not always present during cancer. Others said that being surrounded by people going through the same experience as them gave them much-needed moral support, without realising it. For others still, the workshop was energising, as it broke the social isolation caused by the almost daily medical appointments, the omnipresent fear during the ordeal, the gruelling treatments, and the exhaustion that overtook them as time went by.

The testimonials echoed the scale of the challenges a person needs to overcome during cancer. However, when I attended a workshop, I was able to see another side of the story: the volunteers, like fairies, were busy preparing the room with care and rigour. Sure moves, no doubt performed a thousand times before, were carried out with enthusiasm and team spirit; we weren’t welcoming the Queen of England, but it just seemed the same! It was beautiful, it was real. Most of them had already done a full day’s work for their employer, but these specialists in make-up, skin care or hair prostheses had chosen to commit themselves to their community out of generosity and solidarity. The women who were about to come forward were in great need of the expertise of these volunteer specialists, and they understood this.

I took a seat at a table and, as soon as the first participants arrived, I saw the magic happen. The volunteers knew how to read the participants: the welcome was both friendly and respectful, never intrusive; everyone had their own space, depending on whether they were more reserved or more open.

These women who had come that evening to learn how to look ‘normal’ again, even though nothing in their lives was normal at the time, these women who had chosen to leave their homes in spite of great fatigue, unpredictable nausea or a morale that wasn’t always up to scratch, found themselves gathered in this room for (essentially) the same reasons: the desire to take back control of their lives, against all odds. They were going to discover make-up tips and tricks to redraw their lost eyebrows, to restore their complexion, to take care of their dull skin and their nails damaged by chemotherapy and radiotherapy. And perhaps they would be tempted to try on a wig to camouflage a now bald head, or a scarf that they’ll learn to wear in a variety of clever ways.

From that evening in February, I remember the spirit of sisterhood that springs naturally from a Look Good Feel Better workshop: women helping other women they don’t know, whom they may never see again. In time, some of them may forget the names of the others, these angels who were there for them for an evening; but the warmth of their exchanges will remain with them forever. As the American novelist and poet Maya Angelou put it so well: ‘People will forget what you said, they will forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel’. For a few hours, the volunteers and participants will have been cosmic sisters, sisters of the heart. For a few hours, they will have shared a complicity and a friendship that normally takes years to develop between two people, through living side by side and sharing life experiences. That’s the power of a Look Good Feel Better workshop.

When I was offered the job of translating content for Look Good Feel Better, I hesitated at first. I felt uneasy. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to, or even if I could, write about such a difficult subject—women affected by a serious illness that often leads to harsh treatment. I’d had breast cancer a year earlier and, a few years later, would be overcoming a second one that would require even tougher treatments. I finally agreed, but gave myself the right to withdraw if the experience proved too harsh. Then I realised that this mission to look good and feel better was a regular (and happy) reminder that human nature is fundamentally good. In fact, during the second cancer, I only kept Look Good Feel Better as a client. I insisted on continuing this work, because the stories and testimonials had a calming effect on me. Look Good Feel Better reminded me every day that I wasn’t alone. And everything is so much sweeter when you don’t feel alone, isn’t it?
 

When my doctor told me I needed to fast-track fertility treatments if I wanted to have more children in the future, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I was 33 and suddenly the option of having more children — the spontaneity, the joy of it — wasn’t mine anymore. I didn’t want to tell my partner, who didn’t have any children of his own yet. I felt like I was robbing him of an experience he might have naturally had with someone else, someone who wasn’t going through breast cancer. It made me feel flawed, as though something was wrong with me. 

Eventually I did tell my partner, and he was very supportive. He accompanied me to my treatments. But opening up about my diagnosis was hard. In Caribbean culture, especially among the older generation, people tend to be very private about their health. When I found out I had cancer, I wanted to keep the news to myself — even from my partner, family, and friends. But as things progressed, I realized I couldn’t do it alone. 

I’d had a lumpectomy years ago, for a benign lump, which I had kept secret. I thought I could do the same this time — have a bit of chemo and downtime and then go back to my regular life and work as a nurse, with no one the wiser. I didn’t want my mother to worry. “Here we go again,” I said to myself. “I can do this.” But this time was different. I didn’t realize how much my treatment would break me down physically. Suddenly, I couldn’t even walk to the bathroom or wash my face on my own. I told my family and they stepped in to help. 

My sister was an absolute godsend. She moved in and helped with all the day-to-day stuff — laundry, groceries. But most importantly, she really helped with my 10-year-old daughter. She took her to the movies, did her nails, and took her to her dance lessons and recitals, making sure her life wouldn’t be completely turned upside down.

I had trouble breaking things down and explaining what was going on to my daughter. Kids learn about cancer at school through Terry Fox, so naturally she asked if I was going to die like he did. I couldn’t answer her questions without falling apart, so having my sister there — and also getting my daughter into a children’s support group — was essential.

My treatment — chemo, a mastectomy, radiation, and IV therapy — took everything from me physically, mentally, and emotionally. I felt like cancer had stripped me bare, leaving me with no say, no control, nothing.

And then I was introduced to Look Good Feel Better (LGFB). Honestly, I wasn’t going to go. I was feeling awful and I didn’t want to socialize. I was very closed off and isolated. But I put my fear aside and attended the workshop, and I’m so grateful I did. The air felt so loveable when I got there — so welcoming, inviting, uplifting, and warm. It ended up being the most amazing experience. Everyone was talking and joking around, being so supportive. I didn’t expect to feel beautiful when I walked out. LGFB is like a sisterhood. When I was feeling broken and bare, it lifted me up and helped me to feel loved. 

Today, I’m getting used to a new normal. I’ve had to accept that I’m never going to feel the way I did before cancer. But I’ve also realized that it’s okay to lean on others and to find strength in sisterhood.

One question everyone may have as they begin their cancer treatment is ‘what are the side effects of my cancer treatment?’ The truth is, is that, while there are many common side effects from chemo, radiation, immunotherapy and drugs, your treatment experience will be different from anyone else. So, what’s ‘normal’? Your medical team may give you a booklet on what to expect, but the reality is, there is no ‘normal’.

Hair loss, fatigue, constipation, diarrhea, headache, nausea are all common side effects from cancer treatment. But you may also be dealing with loss of balance, strength and coordination. Others experience nerve tingling, “burning” or numbness. It’s also possible that you may not have any of these side effects. Your reaction to your treatment is as individual as your diagnosis itself.

In the past, a good patient was often described as someone who kept questions to a minimum, who followed all the advice that their healthcare professional provided, who didn’t complain or voice their concerns, and didn’t speak out about something they didn’t understand. Over the years, medical professionals have begun to realize that their patients are individuals, with minds of their own and ideas and questions about their own healthcare.

Enter, Dr. Margaret Fitch, a professor at the University of Toronto with a background in nursing and expertise in oncology and the psychosocial and emotional side of cancer. Dr. Fitch identifies the difference between ‘person-centered’ and ‘patient centered’ care. Your care is a partnership. Doctors, nurses and social workers bring knowledge and expertise, but you are the expert on you and your personal experience. Person-centered care calls on medical professionals to listen, work in partnership with you and to better understand what your life is like and to pay close attention to how any suggestions made may impact you.

Dr. Fitch offers some important take aways to help you in your efforts to ensure your care is ‘person-centered’.

Embrace Your Right to Ask Questions: It’s crucial to remember that you have the right to ask questions about your care and treatment. Even if it’s difficult to speak up, your health and well-being are paramount. Take time at home to write down your questions when you’re relaxed, and bring them to your appointments. Don’t hesitate to be firm and confident in asking for the information you need.

Utilize All Available Resources: While your time with your physician is limited, don’t hesitate to ask a nurse or another healthcare professional for additional support. Healthcare teams often work together, and they can help ensure that your concerns are addressed. It’s okay to use multiple strategies to get the information and support you need.

Understand That “Normal” Doesn’t Mean “Okay”: If you’re told that certain side effects or feelings are normal, it’s important to recognize that this doesn’t mean you have to accept them without support. There is help available, and you don’t have to navigate these challenges alone. Speak up about what you’re experiencing and ask about the resources and services that can provide relief.

Recognize the Uniqueness of Your Experience: Cancer is not just one disease, but many, each with its own treatments and side effects. What you go through may be completely different from someone else’s experience, even if the diagnosis sounds similar. Don’t feel pressured to compare your journey to others; instead, focus on what you need and seek out the right support for your specific situation.

Explore Your Options: The treatment and support options available to you are diverse. Whether it’s joining a group, seeking one-on-one counseling, or trying different therapies, it’s essential to find what works best for you. Don’t be afraid to explore different approaches until you find the one that feels right.

Stay Informed About New Treatments: Medical advancements, like targeted therapies, are constantly evolving. These treatments can be more precise and may reduce some of the more challenging side effects associated with traditional chemotherapy. Keep the conversation open with your healthcare team about new options that may be available to you.

Value Your Individuality: Remember, your journey is uniquely yours. While it’s helpful to hear others’ experiences, what works for someone else may not be the best fit for you. Trust in your instincts, ask for the information you need, and choose the path that feels most supportive to your individual needs and circumstances.

In Episode 2 of “Facing Cancer Together,” you will hear from several women undergoing treatment, each with their own unique version of ‘normal.’ Additionally, Dr. Fitch delves into the concept of ‘person-centered care,’ offering deeper insights into this compassionate approach to treatment. Tune in for a compelling discussion that highlights the diverse experiences of these women, the importance of personalized care and how you can advocate for yourself during your own cancer journey.

When I think back to having cancer and going through treatment, a lot of it is a blur. It was almost like a four-month-long out-of-body experience. I was 15 and in grade 10 when I was diagnosed. I was in the culinary arts program at my school in Toronto, which I had wanted to do forever. And so much was already going on in my life. It was a tough year. My dog had recently died, which was really hard for my family, and my grandmother had also had a cancer scare. And, things were hard at school. I’d met someone who turned out to not be a very nice friend, so I stopped hanging out with him and then I found out a few months later that he’d been writing mean stuff about me online. And then he started threatening me and following me around school. He was friends with a lot of my friends and it was hard to get away from him. And I had also just parted ways with my entire friend group, because they were just not nice friends. One of them even told me she had hated me from the moment she met me. That was hard. I’d dealt with a lot that year, and so getting cancer just kind of felt like an extra bonus. It was the cherry on top of some terrible sundae.

Suddenly I was spending pretty much every single day, hours and hours of the day, in doctors’ offices trying to figure everything out. I started failing most of my classes at school because cancer was suddenly taking up most of my time.

I got through it, though. My school supported me with my class work when they heard what was going on. I was able to make some great new friends who were kind and supportive. And I got through my treatment.

Chemo was hard but it wasn’t as bad as movies would make it seem. In some ways it’s true that chemo can be very intense, but it wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be. My surgery went really well. Heading into it, my parents were super nervous, but I was just like, “OK cool, I’ll see you guys later!”

My hair did fall out, which was not fun. I had really long curly hair, and I was sad to lose it. And I had a lot of skin problems – sore skin, chemo blisters that turned dark purple on my feet, a lot of sensitivity in my hands, and red marks on my shoulders. Doing a Look Good Feel Better workshop helped me feel a lot better. I loved not just playing with makeup – I love getting to express myself in that way – but also getting to meet other people who had cancer. They told me about their experiences, which was really helpful for me. It made me feel less alone.

That’s all behind me now, and I get to focus on being a teenager and doing what I love. I still enjoy being creative in the kitchen. Baking is my favourite. I’m really good at making chocolate cake – I think I’ve perfected it. I also like to crochet, embroider, sew, and do crafts. I’m glad that this is my life again, and that cancer is in my past.