
In 2000 I attended my first Nanaimo Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure in a wheelchair; five months earlier, in May, I had been diagnosed with an aggressive breast cancer.
I wondered how this could happen to me; these things only occurred in other people’s lives. Acceptance was hard.
At the first trip to my surgeon’s office, my world went tumbling down. I began planning my funeral; I had no idea what lay ahead.
Everyday life disappeared and my days were filled with blood tests, doctor appointments, chronic fatigue, hospital visits and many, many tears; then started the dreaded chemo. After my first session, I thought “this is easy”. But that soon changed. It didn’t take long to start feeling like a pin cushion. After two weeks of treatments, I was admitted to hospital with a severe infection.
At the same time, I lost my hair which was hard on my ego. I still had six months of treatment to go.
At one point, while hospitalized, I was wheeled down the hall for X-rays. I saw myself reflected in a window and completely fell apart inside. With no hair and grey coloring, I felt like a very, very old person and I thought: “this is it”.
Another time, when I was hospitalized, there were no beds and I was taken to palliative care ward. Although I knew that was not why I was there, it gave me a very spooky feeling.
My cancer treatments went on for six months. They were finally over in December of 2001. But it took me well over a year before I could speak about what had occurred without crying. Now you can’t shut me up. On October 5, I will run for a cure, because I know there is one. I am living proof. If it weren’t for breast cancer research, I wouldn’t be here today.