This is me!

To best appreciate this post, I’d encourage you to play the music first or while you read it.

This song is from “The Greatest Showman”, which is probably my kids’ and my favourite TV musical of all time. Who doesn’t love Hugh Jackman and Keala Settle‘s voices?

This song resonates with me deeply because its elements reflect the many facets of my life since being diagnosed with terminal cancer. That diagnosis marked the day my life changed in every conceivable way—a day I will never forget. It was February 19, 2019, just five days after my 46th birthday. I discovered a tiny lump in my right breast, unaware that this moment would set the course for a journey filled with relentless challenges. That day marked the beginning of my battle with aggressive de novo (stage 4) breast cancer. My once-healthy life was forever transformed into one defined by my unabating cancer. It was the day I was no longer a stranger to the dark.

As I came out of my most intense treatments, I transitioned to palliative ones. It was then he made it clear he didn’t want my broken parts. That, combined with the COVID-19 restrictions, were enough to make me hide away and be ashamed of all my scars. I spiraled into depression, convinced that no one’ll ever love me as I am. As a single mom living with terminal cancer, with shared custody of two young children, navigating a painful divorce, and managing life with two rambunctious Jack Russells, I couldn’t help but wonder—was there any hope for a future with any semblance of normalcy? I envisioned a lonely end, dying in a hospital, all by myself. Thankfully, my good friend Kimberley told me, and my great therapist taught me, not to let him or the cancer break me down to dust. They knew there’s a place for me, for I am glorious–though I certainly didn’t feel it–but I would find it.

And so I did. From a medical perspective, I’d use my awful diagnosis and prognosis to help others. I started sharing my story and advocating for better cancer care and research. On a personal level, when the sharpest words wanna cut me down, I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown ’em out. I started regaining my confidence, and despite having been bruised from both cancer and my failed marriage, I realized I am brave. Despite being terrified, I was braver than I ever thought possible. I then took a leap of faith and started dating. Between these two “eureka” realizations, I can confidently say I am who I’m meant to be–this is me!

It was early February 2022, when another round of bullets hits my skin. My cancer had spread to my hip for a second time. Only palliative radiation could be offered since it had already been irradiated before. That option would likely not kill all the cancer cells. My second option was to change to my systemic treatment, and at that time, it meant chemo for life, and life would then be measured in months. I was told to think about it for a few days. When my oncologist called me as she said she would, she came bearing “good” news. She discussed my case at the Tumour Board, and they felt I would be a good candidate for a hip replacement surgery. Recovery was likely to take a year and leave me with a “small scar”, according to my osteosarcoma surgeon. Well, fire away because today, I won’t let the shame sink in. So I opted to have the surgery.

Fast forward a few months, I was poolside, wearing my bikini, and my daughter was to my right. She whispered to me “shouldn’t you wear shorts or a skort bikini bottom to hide your (15.25 cm or 6″!!) scar?” That’s when I realized I’m not scared to be seen. I make no apologies.This is me.

During this time, I began using my story to talk about how I was denied breast cancer screening because I was “too young”. Jennie Dale, the Executive Director of Dense Breasts Canada, reached out to me and invited me to join their efforts in bringing the breast cancer screening age from 50 to 40 nationally. I agreed. It started with some media interviews in 2021 and 2022, which you can find on my News Stories page. Then I helped with a presentation Dense Breasts Canada had with the Liberal Women’s Caucus. We can’t and we won’t stand for the Canadian Task Force on Preventative Health Care draft 2024 breast cancer screening guidelines that are based on old, flawed research, and which hadn’t changed since 2011. Next thing I know, I’ve submitted 3 briefs to the House of Commons. My first brief, in January 2024, was to the House of Commons (HoC) Standing Committee on Health, which was undertaking a Study on Women’s Health. My second brief in June was to the same Committee doing a study on the Breast Cancer Screening Guidelines. My most recent brief was only a few days ago, this time to the HoC Standing Committee for the Status of Women, which is doing a study on Breast Cancer Screening Guidelines for Women Aged 40.

Cue in these powerful lyrics which echo loudly in my mind, accompanied by vivid visuals: “We are bursting through the barricades and reaching for the sun. We are warriors, yeah, that’s what we’ve become.” In fact, we’ve become more than simple warriors. We have become friends–very good friends.

It was September 2018, and through my kids’ school my family became fundraisers for their Terry Fox School Run. It was only 5 short months after our first run that I was diagnosed with my terminal cancer. My daughter was bullied because I forgot to wear a wig or hat to cover up my bald head. Another round of bullets hits my skin. Well, fire away ’cause today, I won’t let the shame sink in. After my 5-year old daughter tried unsuccessfully to resolve the razzing of bus-mates, I asked the school if I could speak to its’ students about what it is like to live with cancer, to be a student whose parent is terminally ill, and about Terry’s legacy. I’ve been Patient Ambassador and have spoken at their school since 2019, in addition to a couple of other francophone / bilingual schools in Calgary.

The $155 dollars raised in 2018, grew to $21,275 in 2023, and this year my kids raised $23,000! We are bursting through the barricades and reaching for the sun! My kids have set themselves a cumulative goal to raise $105,000 for cancer research by the time they graduate. They are halfway there, with over $57,000 raised so far. We are warriors, yeah, that’s what we’ve become! Last year, after realizing how few resources exist for young families in situations such as mine, I decided to create an animated comic strip series to fill the gap. My first, and so far only, video (cancer is exhausting!) is called “Because you are bald” and is viewable on my Mommy Has Cancer YouTube channel.

As a cancer patient, I am surrounded by support groups. Through one of these group, I saw the Terry Fox Research Institute was looking for patients to share their experiences with them as they develop Canada’s largest precision medicine for cancer (precision oncology) initiative. It is called the Marathon of Hope Cancer Centres Network (MOHCCN or The Network), aptly named after Terry Fox’ iconic run. When I read the Patient Working Group’s Terms of Reference, and saw the commitment was ~4 to 6 hours annually, it was a no-brainer for me to join! The MOHCCN’s goal is to end cancer as we know it, and as The Network grows, the greater the chances of finding better treatment options for me, as an individual, with my subtype of cancer, as well for the greater cancer community.

Despite all the ups and downs of my health issues, I decided to grow my social network. I was tired of being a stranger in the dark. I no longer wanted to hide away, with all my broken parts. I no longer believed that no one’ll love me as I am. Putting myself out in the world did not disappoint. It’s been just over 4 years that I met my amazingly caring, funny, smart, supportive, and loving man. He doesn’t care about my broken parts. He loves me, and my kids, unconditionally, as I am, with all my scars, each of which tell a story of who I am, for I am glorious for having survived each attack cancer has made on my body.

When the sharpest words wanna cut me down.
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown ’em out.
I am brave, I am bruised.
I am who I’m meant to be, this is me.
Look out ’cause here I come!
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum!
I’m not scared to be seen.
I make no apologies, this is me.

Keala Settle & The Greatest Showman Ensemble

Did you like this post? Does the song or my story inspire you? If so, feel free to send me a gift, because frankly, living with terminal breast cancer is hard. It’s the incredible members of my community that prop me up.