If I had to sum up 2024 in a single word, it would be dichotomies. This year was a relentless seesaw of challenges and triumphs, sorrow and joy, hardship and resilience. It tested me in every way possible, yet it also unveiled moments of profound pride, beauty, and love. Turns out, life really is a mixed bag, or in this case mixed drink—equal parts sour lemons and sweet lemonade, shaken up into an unintentional mystery smoothie.

The lemons of 2024 🍋

Last year served up its fair share of sour lemons. It started with the unrelenting progression of my cancer. For the third time, the disease found its way to my hip, leaving me reliant on crutches and a cane for over a month. New tumours appeared in my upper left lung and pre-vascular and supraclavicular lymph nodes, close to very important blood vessels. A nerve-wracking biopsy targeted a node near my jugular vein—an option slightly less risky than one closer to my carotid artery. Because who doesn’t love choosing the “slightly less terrifying” option?

With this progression, a scan of my hip revealed a potential “hip hardware” malfunction—one that carried the terrifying risk of severing my femoral artery. Needless to say, my oncologist immediately sent me to the ER, initiating a grueling 17+ hour marathon of uncertainty and worry. Meanwhile, adjustments to my treatment—switching from Tamoxifen to Letrozole—brought their own challenges. I found myself grappling with the unsettling possibility that if this hormonal therapy failed, the underlying issue would point to my HER2-targeting immunotherapies. In that case, lifelong chemotherapy would be my only option—an outcome that honestly sounds worse than a life sentence in prison. And then there was the weight gain. Let’s just say the bathroom scale and I are no longer on speaking terms—a mutual breakup for the sake of my sanity.

The fun never seemed to stop. In late June, I faced a life-threatening bilateral pulmonary embolism (PE) while walking our Jack Russells. A good Samaritan found me sitting on a rock outside a stranger’s house and called an ambulance, quite literally saving my life. After three nights in the hospital, I discharged myself earlier than advised because, as any mom knows, sometimes “mom duty” trumps even life-threatening emergencies. Superheroes wear capes; moms leave hospitals early to welcome their kids back home. Weeks later, similar pains sent me back to the ER. Although already on blood thinners, I learned how cancer significantly increases the risk of deep vein thrombosis (DVT), which caused the PE. July added another ER visit to my repertoire, this time for a DVT in my leg. Though the treatment didn’t change, the ER team’s vigilance and care reminded me of the life-saving importance of small decisions—like simply seeking help when it’s needed. Spoiler alert: stubbornness doesn’t actually cure anything.

September and November brought yet more challenges. My daughter and I first caught COVID. The anti-viral infusions left me too weak to resume cancer treatment for six weeks. In November, H1N1 took me down before I could get a flu shot, resulting in yet another ER visit. Clearly, my immune system and I were not on the same page about vaccinations this year. I was finally able to get my jabs in December, which will hopefully shut down any viruses looking for a date in 2025.

The hardest goodbye of the year came when we lost Skoki, our spirited Jack Russell. He declined quickly, losing weight and appetite, leaving us no choice but to let him go. On his final day, we surrounded him with love, captured keepsakes like paw prints and fur clippings, and let the tears flow freely. Jon’s support during this heartbreaking time was everything to the kids and me. Skoki may be gone, but his spunky spirit remains a cherished part of our family. I imagine him now, chasing endless tennis balls, chewing on rocks and reuniting with Murano—his half-brother—in doggy heaven, where the treats never run out, and the rabbits and magpies are just slow enough to catch.

2024’s best lemonades 🍹

One of my proudest moments this year was watching my kids, with the unwavering support of family and friends, raise an impressive $23,150 for their Terry Fox School Run. This brings their cumulative total to nearly $59,000 since kindergarten—a figure that could make a corporate fundraiser blush. Their passion for raising money for cancer research never ceases to amaze me. This year, they upped the ante by personally inviting Darrell Fox, Terry’s younger brother, to visit their school. My son, never one to miss an opportunity, had a specific request for Darrell: to make sure everyone knew exactly who had invited him. Darrell, clearly charmed by their enthusiasm, flew out to speak about Terry’s Marathon of Hope and didn’t miss the chance to fulfill my son’s cheeky request. Seeing their dedication fills me with immeasurable pride. My kids are living proof that even in tough times, hope runs strong—both figuratively and literally.

Since extensive travel isn’t feasible due to my treatments, we embraced the magic of staycations. We spent most of the summer in Radium, soaking up its natural beauty and creating cherished memories. Cousins Paul and Shawn visited for a long weekend and Jon spent considerable time with us over the course of the summer. Just before school started, we treated ourselves to an unforgettable adventure at the Golden Skybridge, home to Canada’s two highest suspension bridges, zip lines, and breathtaking views. Jon and my son cheered my daughter and I as we faced some of our fears. The laughter and joy of that day will stay with me forever. It turns out screaming “Don’t look down!” is a great family bonding activity.

This summer also wowed us with wonders in the skies, marveling at the aurora borealis on several magical nights. As fall set in, we camped out in our backyard, creating cozy, unforgettable moments with flashlights and layers upon layers of clothing. Who needs five-star hotels when you’ve got a tent and flashlights?

I can’t close without highlighting something I’m incredibly proud of: advocating for better cancer care in Canada. After years of sharing my breast cancer diagnosis story, this year was marked by a deeper level of involvement with politicians at both the provincial and federal levels. Through multiple news interviews, social media posts, email exchanges with the Public Health Agency of Canada’s leadership, and testimony briefs submitted to the House of Commons Standing Committee on Health, I felt my voice was heard. A powerful moment came when my testimony briefs were footnoted twice in the Committee’s final report, Saving More Lives: Improving Guidance, Increasing Access, and Achieving Better Outcomes in Breast Cancer Screening. It was such a moment of validation, knowing that my efforts were making a difference, that I dedicated a blog post to it.

So here’s what 2024 taught me: even in the midst of sour lemons, there’s always the potential for sweet lemonade—sometimes with a twist of humour and a generous splash of gratitude.

Cheers to welcoming 2025!

As you’ve read, 2024 has been a challenging year, though I’ve chosen not to dwell on the financial struggles it’s brought. In a recent City TV News interview, I shared some of the tough decisions I’ve faced. If you feel moved to make a difference, I invite you to send a gift through my Gift of Hope page. Your support would have a tremendous impact to our family.