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“Since March 2013...”—Rickie-Lee’s Life After Cancer

Pictured above, Rickie-Lee Hildebrand posing with some of her biggest fans--Grandpa, Grandma and Mom--at the Cash and Cars Lottery 2018 Launch event this past July 26, 2018. 

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Hello. My name is Rickie-Lee Hildebrand. I am 23 years old.

Last year I was lucky enough to be asked to speak at the 2017 reveal of the Cash & Cars lottery show home. I spoke about my diagnoses and my cancer journey. I explained how I was diagnosed at 18, right on the cusp of adolescence and adulthood, during my last semester of Grade 12 back in 2013. I spoke about the kind of cancer I had ー osteosarcoma, a type of bone cancer ー and how it was unplanned for, painful and scary. I spoke about the treatments and how they were rigourous and a bit torturous.

This year, when I was asked if I would speak again, I knew I didn’t want to repeat the same story. So I have some new things I want to tell you. Since March 2013, I have done and seen some pretty amazing things. I graduated high school and got to crutch across the stage with my grad class — many of which were the same people I shared Ardrossan school with since Kindergarten.

Since March 2013, I started my first year of university in the baccalaureate ès sciences program at Campus St. Jean of the University of Alberta. I completed a year of studies and decided a bachelor of science was not what I wanted. So, I changed programs. This December, I will be graduating with my Bachelors of Education specializing in elementary education. I have become so passionate about the world of education, which is something I honestly did not expect. I have loved my time in the classroom as a student teacher and I look forward to having my own classroom full of bright, young minds to spend my days with in the future.

Since March 2013, I have travelled: Maui, Hawaii; Osoyoos, BC; Vancouver, BC; Los Angeles, California; Palm Springs, California; Banff; Jasper; Canmore; Kananaskis; Waterton — all beautiful places with new and amazing things for me to discover. The best part about these trips are who I spent them with: my mom, my best friends, my extended family, my brother, and my boyfriend, Spencer.

One of the things that I’m most proud of that I’ve completed since March 2013, was a 24 km backpacking trip up Carthew-Alderson trail to the summit of Mount Carthew with an overnight stop at Alderson lake up in the mountains. It was probably the most physically demanding thing I’ve done since my chemotherapy treatments, but it was oh-so worth it. I had never reached the summit of a mountain before and let me tell you, the views were amazing. Waking up in the mountains to that gorgeous glacier fed lake for some early morning fishing was just an unreal experience that I will not soon forget.

Since March 2013, I have let my hair grow out. I thought long hair was a good idea but now I find hair everywhere! Since March 2013, I have discovered I love cooking up a storm, using every dish in the kitchen and trying recipes that call for weird, yet intriguing ingredients. I have also learned I hate cleaning up after I’m finished cooking. I have tried my hand at photography and knitting. I have joined a gym ー twice now (this time it’ll stick, I swear). I have stressed over exams, I have laughed until my gut hurts and smiled until my cheeks are sore, I have cried, I have been angry, and I have been frustrated. I have made choices, and made mistakes. I have learned ー I have learned so much. I have seen movies, and concerts, and read books. I have done so many amazing things, a few sorrowful things, and many ordinary things.

In the past five years, I have watched my little brother grow into an amazing young man. I have watched him try to navigate his way through this world the best he can ー the same way I do. I have watched my Grandma face her own cancer diagnoses and my Grandpa stand by her, being as strong as his daughter, my mom, was for me. I have seen my Grandma conquer her cancer and I have seen the joy on my Grandpa’s face! In the past five years, I have seen two families become one, as my Mom married my Step-Dad. In the past five years, I have taken road trips with my best friends, Emma and Sage. We have shared serious conversations and so much laughter. In the past five years, I have seen all of my friends grow into the beautiful people they are today. In the past five years, I have fallen more in love with Spencer. We have stood by each other for better or worse since my diagnoses in March 2013. We have grown as a couple and have big plans for our future.

So why am I telling you all of this? Why am I seemingly bragging about all of the amazing and ordinary things I have done in the past five years? Well, I am telling you all of this because these past five years are years I wasn’t supposed to have. If cancer had it’s way, I wouldn’t be here but thanks to the Cross Cancer Institute, my oncologists and the nurses, the Alberta Cancer foundation, and you ー the donors ーI have had these past five years to live, love, learn, grow, and just feel my feet on this earth and the sun on my face.

And I am not a special case. Everyday, because of the donors like you, the Alberta Cancer Foundation, the cross cancer institute, the Tom Baker Institute, and all the treatment facilities throughout Alberta, people who have faced cancer diagnoses get to travel, fall in love and be in love, watch their loved ones grow, have their bad days and their good days, make mistakes and learn from them, and just live.

Unfortunately, in these past five years, it hasn’t all been happy. Since March 2013, I had to say goodbye to my Dad for the last time as his own cancer took his life. Work in the world of cancer and cancer treatments still needs to be done, and donations are still needed to ensure that less and less people lose their loved ones and more and more people get to keep living ー just like me.

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Anabell Marroquin- Her Inspiring Story

It was February 4th, 2016, when my life was changed forever. This was the day I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.

This was an aggressive cancer, and I had to inform my family, friends and work that I needed to be treated immediately; my oncologist explained that due to its aggressiveness, I would have two weeks to live if I did not treat it right away.

Due to this type of cancer, I was told that I could not receive the type of treatment I needed in my own community, so I was being transferred to the Tom Baker Cancer Centre. The Cancer Unit at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre quickly became familiar to me and became family.  

I remember being so excited when I finally got the “YES” to move back home after one year in Calgary. It had been a difficult year because I was torn away from so many things. There were so many new opportunities happening for me, I thought it was going to be my year, but that drastically changed, cancer became my new world.

Through all the excitement I also felt a little scared when I was able to move back to Medicine Hat, I was afraid that I was not going to receive the same care. I knew I had to make sure I put my supports in place; I made sure I met with the clinics social worker and the patient navigator, who I am forever grateful for, as they played a major role in advocating for me.

As a rural community, it is vital to bring to light that these centres may be smaller but are still just as strong. It is incredibly important to continue to support these centres to make sure that more patients in Alberta do not need to leave their family, friends and community for treatment. I truly believe it is so important for patients to be near their support system, cognitively, psychically and spiritually as it can help them during their cancer journey.

I feel like I have had a unique and special opportunity to have been taken care of by both the clinical team at Tom Baker Cancer Centre and the Margery E. Yuill Cancer Centre. Each clinic played a vital role in my cancer journey.

I am thrilled to announce that I am now a cancer survivor. I am in 100% remission. This battle is over. The kindness, compassion, support, unity, and prayers have allowed me to maintain my strength and most importantly my faith. Now it is time to focus on recovery, post-treatment and the discovery of my new self.

As a result of the gracious support I received, my life has been rejuvenated. My family and I cannot even begin to express how thankful we are for everyone that has helped us along the way; you all have been our pillars. We love you all. With you all by our side, we have fought and WON this battle together.

- Anabell Marroquin

*A very special thank you to Anabell for sharing her compelling story at this years Cash and Cars Lottery Launch. Your strength and grace were an incredible thing to witness. 

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Introducing Team JACC

Meet Team Jack Ady Cancer Centre (Team JACC). They are about to cycle over 200km in the 10th annual Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer Presented by EVRAZ to make a difference for cancer patients across Alberta. And while this team of 13 might be small, they are mighty!

In addition to committing to this great feat of endurance and strength, Team JACC’s fearless Riders are also dedicated members of CancerControl Alberta where many of them work as patient navigators, social workers, registered nurses and managers. Jobs aside, however, like most Albertans across this province, every member of Team JACC has some connection to cancer, be it professional, personal, or both. This is why Team JACC is ready to take on the challenge and make a difference in the lives of Albertans facing cancer.

This team is led by Captain Brendan Grant who is riding for the sixth time and Assistant Captain, Andrea Cox, who is a Patient Navigator and is riding for the fourth time. The team put on a Spin-a-Thon event in May, to raise funds and awareness for The Ride to Conquer Cancer.

We had the opportunity to chat with Gayle Knapik, Manager for Ambulatory & Systemic Care at the Jack Ady Cancer Centre, who works with patients daily, and asked her, “What is your favourite part of The Ride to Conquer Cancer?”

Gayle replied, “Riding alongside survivors, friends, family members and oncology teams is an uplifting and inspirational experience! Cancer affects all of us, whether as a child, parent, sibling, friend or colleague. Raising funds to support the Alberta Cancer Foundation and [cancer] research gives us the opportunity to directly support our community members.”

“By riding in this event we are doing something about it. We’re rolling closer and closer to the end of cancer. It’s an awesome triumph in a physical sense and emotionally as well,” says the team.

On behalf of the Alberta Cancer Foundation, we’d like to thank every member of Team JACC for everything they do to create more moments for Albertans facing cancer. If you are interested in helping Team JACC reach their goal to make life better for Albertans facing cancer, please visit: http://www.conquercancer.ca/site/TR/Events/2018v2Alberta?team_id=80427&pg=team&fr_id=1661

- Written by Camille Blackman 

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International Clinical Trials Day at the Cross

My journey began 3 years ago, much the same as many cancer stories begin - I found a lump. After the realization that this was probably not just a hernia from working out too hard, a biopsy confirmed what I would have never expected - stage 3C malignant melanoma.

I remember the first weeks being a whirlwind of statistics and survival rates, scary words you hear used to describe other people’s cancer diagnoses - primary site, metastasized, lymph nodes, surgery, chemotherapy.

After many tests and scans, a surgery to remove the affected lymph nodes in my left groin was the next step. Going into surgery, I was told my chance of survival were low and there weren’t many treatment options that really showed a lot of promise. This type of cancer was the rarer and most dangerous of the skin cancers. Everything seemed very overwhelming and hard to even comprehend.

Thankfully the surgery was a complete success and they were able to remove all of the cancer, there was hope! Because of this, I qualified to take part in a clinical study here at the Cross - I had only a week to decide if I wanted to join as it was beginning straight away.

Stacey rocking the pink hair for cancer awareness. 

The risks associated with a clinical study are often wide reaching and unknown. I debated carefully and decided that if I was going to go through this no matter what, I wanted to try to at least help people after me. Hopefully the experimental drug would help me of course, but to be a part of something that furthered cancer research and treatment was something I felt I wanted to do.  Clinical trials help to provide direct and immediate evidence of both the benefits and drawbacks of the treatment, as well as the long term outcome for those who participate.  Cancer treatment will not move forward if we don’t have these trials testing the science.

My trial lasted a year with one day a week dedicated to tests, scans, and doctors check-ins and updates. The second day was the treatment. It was a long year, the poke of needles, the CT scans, and the general feeling of “is this really happening” never got any easier. But being at the cross and seeing many other people’s journeys was a true eye opener. Not just to be grateful for life, but to be grateful for my experience as well.

Stacey visiting Niagara Falls 10 months into the trial

The clinical trial treatment didn’t come without side effects, some of which will be with me for my hopefully long life. But when I was first diagnosed, visions of weight and hair loss flashed before my eyes. Thoughts of being sick and nauseous and frail and weak terrified me and I was afraid to walk that road.

The treatment turned out to be a very different path for me thankfully. I experienced a wide array of side effects, but with the worst being headaches and skin rash, I could count my blessings.  This made the entire experience one I could stay positive throughout, I wasn’t too drained to fight.  

I can’t say enough about the wonderful team that I had to support me through this journey here at the cross. My clinical nurse Shelley quickly became my new best friend and someone I could rely on to be there no matter my worry, both cancer and life related. Although it was a lot of monitoring and tests, I felt like I was in great hands which was very comforting. Doctor Smylie, Shelley, all of my nurses administering treatment and the entire staff here became a large part of my support circle - I owe such a tremendous thank you to everyone for making me feel like I wasn’t just another patient, for making me feel like I mattered.

Although I still have another two years of monitoring before I’m truly in remission, I am already most grateful for the opportunity I had to be a part of the trial, I don’t know if I would be here, or be here with such a positive outlook without it.

I truly count myself as lucky for the timing of this in my life. Just 5 years ago, the research and development of these drugs were nowhere near what they were when I started my treatment. I say that I have the best bad luck you can have.

Stacey as the maid of honor at her sister's wedding - the last month of her clinical trial. 

Hope and positivity are two things I believe every person needs to make it through life, and I’m very fortunate that the clinical trial gave me the chance to hold onto both of these throughout my fight. My wish is that my story will give someone else the hope and positivity they need to begin their journey.

- Stacey Daub 

*A very special thank you to Stacey for sharing her compelling story and educating the audience who gathered to celebrate and learn more about Clinical Trials at the Cross Cancer Institute on May 18, 2018. Your strength and grace were an incredible thing to witness.

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International Clinical Trials Day: Anita's Story

It was spring when Anita Julseth went to her doctor to have a mole on her neck checked. It had always been there but recently it had changed…

The mole was quickly removed, biopsied and by March Anita knew. She had cancer. Melanoma. Stage IV. 

Anita underwent surgery to remove the cancerous cells, but by July lumps began to appear on her body. The cancer had spread. Anita’s care team immediately got her placed on an Alberta clinical trial, a type of study that tests the safety and effectiveness of new drugs or procedures.

As a patient, Anita volunteered to participate in one such study which was examining the effect of two immunotherapy drugs on late-stage melanoma. For four months, Anita and her husband travelled back and forth from Wetaskiwin to Edmonton for her treatment at the Cross Cancer Institute. 

When autumn arrived, Anita happily noticed that the lumps were beginning to disappear. By December a CT scan revealed she was free and clear of cancer. 

“Going back and talking to the research nurse and Dr. Smylie, they brought me the hope.” Anita said. “They’re the ones that said, ‘Yeah, it’s going to be okay. We can do this.’ And they did. They did it! It’s amazing…” 

When asked what she would say to the donors who made her clinical trial possible, Anita said: “Wow. Thank you. It’s just very amazing to have these clinical trials. Without them, there really is no hope. Like from what Dr. Smylie says, 10 years ago there was no hope. But now… there’s lots of hope. And it’s wonderful.”

For many, many years, advanced melanoma was considered untreatable. But now, up to 60% of patients are responding to the latest treatments.

Thanks to donors like you who fund these studies and the bright minds at Alberta Cancer Clinical Trials who work tirelessly to find answers, there is hope. 

So let us celebrate our progress and look forward to a bright and hopeful tomorrow. Donate to clinical trials in Alberta today: https://albertacancer.ca/clinical-tri...

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Melinda’s Story

Melinda Elgot, wife and mom of three, is sharing the story of her daughter Naomi's experience with brain cancer.

On September 7, 2004, Naomi Elgot was born to proud parents, Victor and Melinda Elgot.

“She was a very outgoing, bubbly little girl. Always laughing, constantly chatting with people. And encouraging them and trying to get to know people. And just really trying to be a part of what was happening around her” says Melinda.

When Naomi was five she went to the hospital after several days of constant vomiting.

“So when we saw the MRI, we saw that there was a kiwi-sized tumor. And it was wrapped around her brain stem.”

Naomi underwent brain surgery to remove the tumor, and then began radiation therapy at the Cross Cancer Institute.

“The people that we dealt with at the Cross Cancer Institute… I’ve never met such incredible people in my entire life. We’ve had a lot of experience with a lot of different medical practitioners. The Cross Cancer Institute, they go above and beyond. They are so kind and so gentle.”

After her treatment, Naomi went for MRI scans every three months. For one year, all her scans came back clear. One day Melinda received a call from Naomi’s doctor.

“And I was like, “You don’t have good news”. And she said, “No. We found three more tumors.”

In the coming months, Naomi would undergo another two brain surgeries, 33 radiation treatments and chemotherapy. Despite everyone’s efforts, Naomi’s cancer returned again and again. When the Elgot family finally ran out of treatment options, they prepared to break the news to Naomi and her siblings.

“We sat all three kids down at the table. So at that point Naomi was seven, and Daniel was five and Phoebe was three. And we all sat down at the table and we said, “So, Naomi’s medicine isn’t working.” And Naomi looked me straight in the eye and she said, “Mommy, am I going to die?” And I said, “Yes.” And it was a week and a half before her eighth birthday And she said, “Am I going to die before my birthday?” I went, “Absolutely not!” “And we are going to have such a great party,” “and we’re going to have all your friends,” “and we’re just going to celebrate.”

10 months later, snuggled between her parents and her siblings, in their home in Edmonton, Alberta, Naomi Elgot took her last breath.

“Naomi was diagnosed with cancer almost eight years ago and the strides that they have taken, and the things that they know about her cancer and other cancers, even in those short eight years, is phenomenal. And that’s because of research, that’s because of people who continue to support charities that try and find out why these things are happening.”

Let’s create more moments for children facing cancer in Alberta. Please donate today.

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Head and Neck Cancer – Survival is not enough

After life-saving surgery for head and neck cancer, the physical alterations to a patient’s face can be devastating. A dream team of scientists in Alberta have made a groundbreaking discovery that will allow patients to receive customized nasal reconstructions using their own cells. This progress is possible, because of you.

Many Albertans will struggle this year with devastating effects of head and neck cancer. Treatments can lead to patients having parts of their skull and nasal cartilage removed during difficult surgeries. This can cause social isolation and embarrassment to go out in public. Survival is not enough.

A dream team of three researchers have come together, right here in Alberta, to help improve the lives of these patients.

“It really isn’t enough. So we are looking at patient outcomes. Were looking at what do patients need to consider a treatment to be successful.”

Dr. Osswald builds 3D printed biological structures; Dr. Adesida grows cartilage in the lab using the patient’s cells and Dr. Ansari performs the patient nasal reconstruction.

Three years ago, this team received funding through the Murray E. Mickleborough Interfacial Biomechanics Research Program to see if this was possible.

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Lessons Learned Outside the Bell Curve: The Story of Tricia Antonini, 20-Year Cancer Warrior

         It was a Saturday in summer of 1997 when Dr. Chris Brown, then 41, reported for on call duty at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre in Calgary. He picked up his patients’ medical charts and commenced his rounds at the room of a new leukemia patient. As he strode into the room, he noticed a young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties, sitting on her hospital bed poring over a mess of books spread out before her, while her mother hovered nearby. The patient had diamond-blue eyes and apple cheeks that were swollen like those of “a chipmunk, due to extreme mucositis,” a condition that often affects chemotherapy patients and leaves them with swollen faces and excruciatingly sore oral tissue. In his naturally cheerful manner, Dr. Brown introduced himself to the patient saying, “Hello, I’m Dr. Brown, and I’m on call for the weekend.” The young woman looked up at the doctor and regarded him with “laser beams.” Without speaking, the young woman communicated so much in a single look; strength, intelligence, determination. Her name was Tricia Antonini and she would go on to demonstrate all of these qualities in spades over the next 20 years.

The young woman looked up at the doctor and regarded him with “laser beams.” Without speaking, the young woman communicated so much in a single look; strength, intelligence, determination. Her name was Tricia Antonini and she would go on to demonstrate all of these qualities in spades over the next 20 years. 

Tricia’s true story begins 23 years before that moment on May 21, 1974 at Pasqua Hospital in Regina, Saskatchewan. On that spring day, Lou and Marie Antonini gratefully welcomed their second child, a baby girl, whom they called Tricia Louise. Dad Lou Antonini, a burly man with a thick moustache, remembers the day they brought their daughter home, “Then, we had one of each. She filled our family.” 

Mom Marie Antonini, a pretty woman with dark hair and wide green eyes, says, growing up, Tricia was an easy-going child who was always busy with extra-curricular activities and who never subjected them to ‘those scary teen years.’ When asked if Tricia’s incredible strength ever revealed itself early on, Marie recalls a time when Tricia overcame, seemingly on her own, an instance of grade-school bullying. As a gifted child, Tricia excelled in school and often put her hand up in class which sometimes led to her being teased and ostracized by her classmates. Marie remembers, “…one of the teachers spoke to me at an interview and said, ‘I don’t know how she comes to school’, and I didn’t know what she was talking about… [Tricia] wasn’t really sharing with us, so we didn’t realize how bad things were, but you know she just stuck through that year and then kind of went on… I almost think it even strengthened her.”

“…one of the teachers spoke to me at an interview and said, ‘I don’t know how she comes to school’, and I didn’t know what she was talking about… [Tricia] wasn’t really sharing with us, so we didn’t realize how bad things were...”  

When she reached high school, Tricia began to shine. She had moved on from her mean girl experience and found a group of good friends. Among those friends was Tasha Westerman whom she met in grade 10 and whom she remains best friends with to this day.  Tricia participated in a number of activities from school council to band to swimming and demonstrated talent in art and music. In addition to playing the flute, French horn, and jazz piano, Tricia loved to create art and was regularly called upon to hand-draw many of the school’s event posters. Best friend Tasha Westerman remembers how Tricia was in high school, “She was always really social, always willing to help out when others needed it. She would stay after school to help with events, organizing or fundraising or anything.” High school also gave big brother Brandon Antonini, now 46 and a father of 11-year-old twin boys, new reasons to look out for his pretty, younger sister. “I found out she went on a date with one of my friends… There was nothing good about it, it wasn’t allowed and was quickly snuffed out!” Always her “protector” since childhood, Brandon would later prove just how much that title meant to him when he would become the donor for not one but two of Tricia’s unheard of three stem cell transplants. When asked about his childhood with Tricia, Brandon warmly recalls one summer in the early 1980s when they watched National Lampoon’s Summer Vacation with Chevy Chase close to two hundred times and the way Tricia always supported him throughout his athletic endeavours as a competitive swimmer. Upon graduating from high school (and much to her art teacher’s dismay), Tricia chose to pursue a career in accounting at the University of Regina and then began working for PwC through an accounting fellowship in 1995. Upon completing her degree, Tricia moved to Calgary to continue working for PwC Calgary in January of 1997.  There, while still in her first year as a chartered accountant articling student, Tricia signed up to play in the firm’s annual golf tournament. Though she managed to play all 18 holes, Tricia collapsed at the end of the tournament and was rushed to Red Deer Hospital where she awoke feeling embarrassed. Thinking perhaps she had had too much to drink, mortification quickly turned to panic when she was told by doctors she had leukemia and was transferred by ambulance to the Tom Baker Cancer Centre. A biopsy confirmed this suspicion a few days later and she began her first chemotherapy session. Before beginning treatment, however, she was adamant that she wanted to write her final exam to become a chartered accountant. Cancer or no cancer, Tricia had plans.   Together with her doctor it was decided Tricia would cancel her registration in an exam prep course but still write the qualifying exam, in a separate room away from the other students to mitigate risk of infection given her immune-suppressed state. Dad Lou Antonini recalls this trying time and his daughter’s determination to continue with her plans despite the life-threatening diagnosis, “I remember when she was first diagnosed, sitting on the floor, so sick from chemo, still studying [for her exams.]” Some months later Tricia received her first stem cell transplant (her brother Brandon was the donor) and a year later she wrote her final accounting exam (a process that takes 4 days and 4 hours of exam writing per day) and passed. In December 2002, when Tricia was 28, she threw a Toast to Life party to celebrate 5 years of cancer freedom. She welcomed her friends, family, and doctors, and thanked everyone for their support. She also encouraged them all to ‘engage the moment’ and ‘toast life’ every day.

Three weeks later, Tricia felt tired and her lips looked pale. The leukemia had returned. 

As Tricia underwent chemotherapy for the second time, her doctors considered whether a non-related stem cell donor might improve her chances of remission. A match was found. The donor was a man from Germany. Two years later, she would find out his name was Oliver. Once Tricia was in remission again, she travelled to Europe for the first time and met Oliver in his small town outside Bavaria, Germany. She returned to work and continued volunteering with First Connections, a support program through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of Canada, as a peer counsellor for newly diagnosed leukemia and lymphoma patients. She resumed her duties as Board of Trustees member for the Alberta chapter of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of Canada which she helped found earlier in 2002.   Friend and fellow peer counsellor and Provincial Advisory Council (PAC) Cancer member Lorelee Marin remembers how dedicated Tricia was to improving the lives of Albertans facing cancer, “Tricia always shared her perspective in a beautiful and compassionate way, she was always focused on the "patient-first" approach to care and [on offering] solutions…” “Tricia always shared her perspective in a beautiful and compassionate way, she was always focused on the "patient-first" approach to care and [on offering] solutions…” It was 2004 and life was good, but it was about to get even better. Tricia’s employer made her an offer she couldn’t refuse: relocation to Manhattan for three years to work on an international project with PwC’s global head office. Tricia didn’t hesitate for a New York minute. She embraced the opportunity and fearlessly hopped on a plane to New York City in the summer of 2005. Once there Tricia leaned into her career and, in her free time, pursued her dream of acting. She walked the city’s endless street blocks and found something to be amazed by on every corner. She met people from different parts of the world and grew her circle of international friends. She sat in restaurants where tables were jammed too close together and she fell in love with the pad thai where the restaurant employees recognized her by her weekly order. Tricia was in the zone. About a year after moving to New York, she was preparing to leave for a weekend in the Hamptons when she got a fever. Another leukemia relapse. Tricia’s relapse was diagnosed on July 17, 2006 at the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Centre in New York, but opted to return home to Calgary for treatment so that she could be near family. She flew home with her mom on July 19, 2006 and drove directly to the Tom Baker Cancer Centre where she met with her doctors. The following is an excerpt from Lou Antonini’s journal about his experience with Tricia’s second relapse: The doctors then told us that a third bone marrow transplant would not work… and that there were two courses of action to take: One, enjoy the balance of time she had left by extending it as long as possible with transfusions of blood products. (This way she would not go through the hell that chemo creates, and [live] a few months, in relative comfort. [Two], hit it hard with two sessions of chemo and then, if that got her to remission, go into a third 'maintenance' phase that would be continuous and could extend her life to a few years instead of a few months, again in relative comfort. The problem with the second choice was that she could go through the first two phases of chemo and all the torture and still not be in remission.

Tricia was not ready to give up and chose to fight again. And fight she would. On July 30, 2006, just 10 days into her first session of chemo and with next to no infection-fighting white blood cells, an innocuous black mark appeared at her central line incision. 

Her blood pressure began to drop and she was quickly admitted to intensive care. In just one hour the black mark had bloomed and was identified as necrotizing fasciitis or, as it is better known, flesh-eating disease. Hospital staff prepared Tricia for emergency surgery which was needed to scrape away the deadly bacteria before it had any more chance to spread. After surgery Lou Antonini went to see his daughter and broke into tears at the sight of her:

When Tricia returned from surgery she was on life support with both breathing and feeding tubes in her throat, a catheter in, and a wound the size of my hand that extended from just below her Adam’s apple down about 5 inches and 8 inches across. Everything had been removed including her front neck muscles and it was at least an inch deep. I remember after seeing it for the first time I cried on and off for about three hours. Tricia was kept on life support and in the five days following surgery developed two cold viruses as well as pneumonia. With no immune system to even fight a cold sore Tricia’s condition was grim.  Doctors advised the family to prepare for the likelihood that Tricia would not survive her stay in intensive care. The doctor added that even if she did survive, they would not be able to continue with chemotherapy which would leave her only a few months to live, at best.  Devastated, Lou and Marie Antonini sought the opinion of Tricia’s first oncologist. Tricia’s doctor agreed with the original prognosis but noted that Tricia’s white blood cell count had risen unexpectedly overnight. Cautiously, the doctor told the distressed couple that there may be a glimmer of hope if Tricia’s white blood cell count continued to rise. Over the next two weeks, Tricia remained in the ICU with her neck exposed. Her parents took alternating shifts and together stayed at her bedside 24 hours a day, seven days a week. As days went by Tricia’s white blood cell count eked gradually upwards. On August 11, 2006 her breathing tube was removed. The next day she was discharged from ICU and sent back to Unit 57 at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre.  Things were starting to look up. A biopsy was done to determine the state of Tricia’s leukemia and whether she could resume chemotherapy. When the biopsy came back, the results revealed that Tricia’s leukemia was in remission! Despite only 10 days of chemotherapy, the plan had worked. Tricia and her family were ecstatic and breathed an enormous sigh of relief that she was stabilizing.  A couple of months later, after extensive physiotherapy, multiple complications, a skin graft, and removal of her feeding tube, Tricia was discharged.

After Tricia’s harrowing experience in the ICU, she and her parents packed their bags for Maui. According to Tricia, when they arrived to the island she could barely walk on her own, “I had to use a wheelchair to make our connection, so my mobility was still in a state of recovery... When we went down to the beach, I had to get help. By the end of it I was snorkeling by myself, and I could get up by getting onto all fours. I got so much stronger in that period of time. We were like, How can we get back here? It’s an energy of different sorts, and it’s healing.” One year following the family’s trip to Maui, Tricia was approved for a clinical trial thanks to the combined effort of Dr. Brown and the team of doctors in Calgary and Dr. James Young, attending physician, Bone Marrow Transplant Service, Division of Hematologic Oncology, Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Centre in New York. A year later, on June 12, 2008, Tricia received her third stem cell transplant (a claim only a handful of people around the world can make.) Once again, her protector Brandon Antonini was the donor. The next six years would be filled with the blissfully ordinary events of everyday life: birthdays and baby showers; drinks with friends and dinners with family; weddings and funerals. There would be highs and lows (or peaks and valleys as Tricia and Tasha came to refer to them): returning to New York to visit with friends, helping Tasha through her own cancer diagnoses, making Avenue Magazine’s list of Top 40 Under 40, saying goodbye to her Grandmas Mary and Amanda, returning to Maui with her family, and saying goodbye to her friend Ryan, Tasha’s first husband, to brain cancer. In 2011 Tricia joined Alberta Health Services’ Patient Advisory Council – Cancer (PAC – Cancer) and used her remarkable communication skills, business acumen, and first-hand experience as a cancer patient to improve cancer care for Albertans across the province. Lorelee Marin, fellow PAC – Cancer member, remembers the way “Tricia showed us all how we [could] make a difference.” And though Tricia knew she was living outside the bell curve and that every day was a gift, she was completely unprepared for what she was about to learn. The following is an excerpt from Tricia’s blog published November 2, 2014:

I haven't posted for well over a year - because life has been good and busy and no major health developments to report.  I even just a month ago was in NYC speaking at the Sloan Kettering Cancer Centre's transplant celebration, reporting that 6 years and 3 months later, no sign of leukemia.  Was transferred into the "long-term patient" clinic at the Bone Marrow Clinic in July.  Leukemia seems to be quiet right now.

Unfortunately a couple days ago, I found out I have a new challenge to deal with - Breast Cancer.  Yep. WTF.  Exactly.  My first mammogram at age 40 prompted an ultrasound and then biopsy last Monday and Thursday afternoon I went to the Bone Marrow Clinic and got results - invasive ductal carcinoma.  Just about lost my breath and my mind at that moment.  Totally believed the scleroderma (skin thickening GVHD from transplant #3), scar tissue from 4 central lines in my chest over 17 years and oh yeah, scar tissue from the surgery and skin graft I have in my neck and chest following flesh-eating disease was showing up in the ultrasound as unusual.  But probably the most convincing argument that this would NOT be cancer, was that I already did that.  3 times. Once more, Tricia was facing cancer. Her course of treatment for her breast cancer involved a bilateral mastectomy and chemotherapy. It was the doctors’ belief the cancer had not metastasized. Once again life marched on and Tricia marched along with it. She went back to New York in October of 2015 for Memorial Sloan Kettering’s 20th Annual Transplant Survivor Celebration, an event close to Tricia’s heart. In January of this past year, the Antonini family made their annual pilgrimage to Maui, home of Tommy Bahamas, one of Tricia’s favourite restaurants, and the site of her incredible, 2007, post-ICU recovery. This past April Tricia began to experience headaches and went to the emergency room to get checked out. She was told she had five tumours in her brain. Two days later Tricia posted an update on her blog about the most recent development in her health. At the end of her update she shared a piece of writing that she had written in conjunction with a painting she had made entitled The Black which Tricia painted to convey the pain and suffering associated with loss. Below is an excerpt of Tricia’s The Black:

The Black by Tricia Antonini

While I would agree with people who say that I am a positive person, and that my ability to stay positive has helped me overcome many challenges, I feel the need to articulate the depth of moments where it is impossible to be positive, or where I have felt simply too tired to live… I used to believe, or possibly hope, that life was overall fair… I don’t believe this to be true anymore.  I think shining the spotlight on the darkest moments, understanding, in detail, how we managed to get to the edge of the water we almost drowned in, how we didn’t bleed to death, how our heart managed to heal after being torn to pieces, makes us more capable of surviving the next hit.  No matter how many times we are hit.  And focusing on how black the black is makes the white extraordinarily more vibrant. Ironically, Tricia wrote The Black three weeks before learning about her metastatic tumors. Tricia, now 43, is currently in Calgary receiving palliative care for metastatic brain cancer. She maintains that while her breast cancer diagnosis felt “like someone came [up] behind me and smacked me in the head” and that learning about the metastatic brain tumours felt too foreign and too surreal to seem possible, she says she is not consumed by the questions that haunt so many cancer patients. ”I have had moments where I would say, Well, why is this happening? … Why me? Why not someone else? Because I’ve been doing everything I should be doing when you get told you have cancer. I’ve been volunteering, I’ve been giving back, I’ve been helping to raise funds, I’ve been a mentor for people, I’ve stepped back from my life and changed what I’m doing at work… I’ve been really listening, and I’ve been making the changes that you should make. And having the perspective that you should have…” But then Tricia realizes, “… there’s really smart people working on Why? … And they’ve been working on it for decades, and if they haven’t figured it out, I’m not going to figure it out today. And I have no energy, anyway! So why would I waste it on a question that is impossible to answer?” Tricia continues our conversation by discussing the importance of research, the narrowness of ‘The Cure’, and her own personal thoughts on cancer: “…people say, Well, there’s so much money that goes into research and they still haven’t found ‘The Cure.’” For one thing, we’re talking about thousands of diseases, not one disease. It’s grouped [under] this big name called cancer, but it is such a misnomer because they are so different, all of them… the focus shouldn’t be about funding ‘The Cure’ (and if we don’t find the cure, we’ve failed), it should be about funding more moments, creating more moments for people. I mean for me right now, they say [my cancer] is terminal, but you could give me more moments. My friend Ryan who passed away, Tasha’s late husband, he survived for about 15 months longer than they expected [thanks to a clinical trial] before he passed away. The moments that he had in those 15 months, unbelievable! …that ‘more moments’ idea is so true and it extends beyond cancer. Whatever we need to do to have more moments, particularly more potent moments [is] a big deal. To have more moments when the prognosis shows you’re not going to have any more? That’s still miraculous. It’s just as miraculous as a cure.” When asked about how the passage of time feels now that she knows it’s dwindling, Tricia attests that “life is not about a timeline, it’s about potency.” She believes that people are “canvasses walking around” and for every moment that we engage fully with the world and allow ourselves to truly be seen, we exchange a bit of paint with one another. Tricia believes that you can either go through life a “blank canvas” or become a “Jackson Pollock”.  Time, Tricia says, is irrelevant. Moments are what matter. Potent moments. And lots of them. Last week on November 22, 2017 at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre, surrounded by her friends, family and medical care team, Tricia awarded fellow philanthropist Elaine Moses with the inaugural Tricia Antonini Award for her contributions to creating a positive and hopeful environment for patients undergoing treatment on Unit 57, Foothills Medical Centre (FMC) and the Blood and Marrow Transplant (BMT) Clinic in Calgary, Alberta.

Written by Diana Gaviria

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Be like Tricia and help create more moments for Albertans facing cancer.

What you can do

Donate to the Alberta Cancer Foundation and help fund life-saving care and ground-breaking research right here in our province.

If you are between the ages of 17 and 35 and in good general health, register to join the One Match Stem Cell & Marrow Network and give someone like Tricia a second chance at life.

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Kimberley’s darling warrior, Colin Hackett

Colin had a kindness that could not be fostered or taught. 

Colin was a teacher and a father and a speaker and an Edmonton hockey referee. He was an athlete, he was an Ironman, he was an entrepreneur and he was my husband. 

In October of 2014, I had our fourth baby, three weeks later Colin had a stomach ache and he drove himself to the hospital. There was a mass in his abdomen, they figured it was cancer and that was the beginning of our cancer journey. Out of the blue, he was 33 years old. 

Colin was a never-say-die sort of person. He was in the hospital a week before he died and he said to me “Kimmy I still think I can beat this thing.” So he never gave up. 

I have changed my outlook on life, my kids go out and we do stuff together and we are having so much fun. Its without Colin, but it’s how he lived his life, to the fullest. 

After Colin passed away, I knew that the kids wouldn’t have much of his history and I wanted my children to know who their dad was, and what a difference he made to so many people. I put up a request to people to send me stories they had of Colin. Ways he had impacted their lives and made a difference so that I would have something to hell his babies when they got older. 

The response I got from his students was incredible and everyone has an amazing story for me.

I think it is so important to continue funding research because I come across people every day in my life who have had immunotherapy make a difference for them. Or who have made chemo make a difference for them. Colin wasn’t fortunate enough to survive his cancer, but there are lots of families who are keeping their loved one around because of the research and breakthroughs.

-Kimberley Hackett 

You have the power to give Albertans more moments with their loved ones. Make a difference. Donate today.  

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“One drop makes a pailful”: Why Anneliese Stauffer, 74, is committed to participating in Alberta’s clinical trials

This isn’t possible. How can this be?

“Those were my first thoughts when I was diagnosed with cancer. I’m sure everyone feels that way at first,” says Anneliese Stauffer, 74, in a bright, European accent.

A wife, mother and grandmother of five, Anneliese was born in German-occupied Poland shortly after the outbreak of World War II. After fleeing to West Germany with her mother and brother, where they lived for several years, the Jantzen family immigrated to Canada when Anneliese was-15-years old and eventually settled in Calgary. In 1959 she met Hans, who became her husband. Together, they moved into a comfortable mountain home on the outskirts of Cadomin, a small mining town southwest of Jasper.

Here, in ‘The Valley of the Winds’, Anneliese and Hans raised two sons and a daughter. In time, they welcomed three beautiful granddaughters (all of whom currently attend the University of Alberta) and two twin boys who she says ‘couldn’t be more different’.

Through her strong belief in the importance of medical research and her desire to be of service, Anneliese began participating in Alberta-based research studies and clinical trials. After being part of a brain study investigating Alzheimer’s and dementia, Anneliese learned about Alberta’s lung cancer screening study, led by Dr. Alain Tremblay, researcher and associate professor of respiratory medicine at the University of Calgary, and decided to sign up.

Anneliese remembers doing the preliminary CT scan and then going on vacation to Cuba. When she returned, there was a message waiting for her on her answering machine.

She heard the lung study mentioned and thought, Oh that’s weird, they aren’t supposed to phone again until next December.

“[But] it wasn’t weird.” says Anneliese, “They had a reason for calling.”

Apparently, Anneliese’s CT scan had revealed a spot on her lungs the size of a pinky. Very soon after she met with her doctor who was optimistic that surgery was an option. After further testing, however, it became clear that Anneliese’s cancer was inoperable, something she says was “the only truly disappointing thing in my life.”

Despite this devastating news and the uncertainty of her prognosis, Anneliese remains firm in her belief that clinical trials are humanity’s best shot at a brighter future.

Through her oncologist she learned about an immunotherapy clinical trial recruiting new patients and volunteered for it on the spot.  

“If I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to help someone else,” says Anneliese. “I don’t know if these two immunotherapies being applied to me now, with the usual kind of chemo, will help my immune system attack the cancer cells and make it more sensitive to chemo. That’s the theory, but it might not happen.”

As Anneliese relates the realities of her treatment from her home in Calgary (where she moved to be nearer family and the Tom Baker Cancer Centre), she does so calmly and matter-of-factly, her voice completely free of self-pity.

When asked about her outlook on life at the moment, Anneliese doesn’t hesitate to describe all the precious moments she’s been able to share with her family.

“I’ve had a good life! It’s quite a different story once you’ve had your turn. It might be hard for you to understand but that’s just how it is. Eventually we all come to an end. You just have to remember to enjoy your life because it won’t last forever. Enjoy it every day.”

“I am so fortunate you have no idea. You probably think that I’m saying that to convince myself but I’ve just had two visitors come in from Switzerland and they stayed with us for 12 days, I’ve had all my children and grandchildren here on and off. No matter how busy they are we’ve all taken day trips and gone to the mountains, we’ve been fishing — we’ve done something fun for young and old. We’ve eaten well, we’ve laughed, we’ve cried. Life has been nothing but good. We would have done none of those things if I wasn’t aware of what was going on. We probably would have done some of them, but not as intensely. I’m very lucky.”

Although she considers herself a realist at heart, Anneliese’s voice is full of hope and positivity when she talks about her involvement with the immunotherapy clinical trial.

“This clinical trial will have a positive outcome for me no matter what because if I didn’t participate, there would be one less result, and while that may not seem like much, it’s a drop in the bucket. One drop in the bucket makes a pail full. It would be fantastic if [I survived] but I’m not a dreamer, I’m realistic. It’s nice to dream sometimes, though.”

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22-Year-Old Heidi Peters on Navigating Cancer as a Young Adult

An intelligent and athletic 16-year-old, Heidi Peters couldn’t wait to start her grade 12 year of high school. She was anticipating the fun of playing volleyball, the stress of exams and the excitement of graduation. What she did not anticipate was being diagnosed with cancer two weeks into her fall semester.

Heidi went in to see her doctor after experiencing ongoing pain in her left shin, which she thought was from playing club volleyball all spring. During the summer she had multiple scans and a biopsy on the bump in her shin. When she got the results back from her doctor, she was shocked. What she suspected were simply shin splints, turned out to be a cancerous tumour growing in her left leg. The diagnosis was osteogenic sarcoma and her treatment plan would include 44 weeks of chemotherapy. The tests also showed that the cancer had progressed to her right lung. Before she could even start her treatment, Heidi went for surgery to have three masses removed from her lung.

“I was initially in shock, I think, because I had no idea what treatment would be like, look like, feel like, and how it would impact me.”

All the exciting things Heidi was anticipating were washed away at once. She would miss her entire grade 12 year of high school due to her treatment which meant not getting to play volleyball, hang around with friends or plan for her next year in college.

After 12 weeks of treatment, the tumour refused to shrink. Heidi had a surgeon assigned to her whom she trusted right away. After he explained her options, it became clear that amputation would be the only choice.

“He told me if I was his daughter, he’d want amputation. That was very comforting for me and my parents. I wanted to live and have the best quality of life possible, so I just accepted it. It was strange knowing that in a month or so I’d have no leg, but I never questioned it or went back on my decision.”

In weeks leading up to her leg surgery Heidi became discouraged knowing that she was missing out on so much with her friends and sports. She admits that it was impossible to know how heavily her quality of life would be impacted.

“It was so hard, it felt like I was climbing a mountain that never ended, like I couldn’t see the end and I just went further and further into a pit that I wouldn’t come out of.”

Heidi was already forced to navigate her way through a complex maze of tests, appointments, treatments and services. Now she was faced with the emotional and physical challenges of losing part of her leg.

After her amputation she still had 32 weeks left of chemotherapy, along with physiotherapy to help her learn to walk again.

After April she started to feel better mentally; the days became lighter and the snow started melting, which helped immensely. She was able to focus on the remaining treatments and life followed a routine of chemotherapy and rehab.

Heidi was finally declared cancer-free in August 2012, but now she was a full year behind. As she started her grade 12 year for the second time, all her friends had moved away for college. She remembers feeling so distant from the people she was once closest to. It felt as if there was an impassable void between her and her old high school friends.

“Their lives consisted of college while mine was stuck in high school on cancer mode.”

There was no support for her specific situation, so Heidi did what she thought she was supposed to do, which involved finishing high school and applying to universities. Her old friends moved back to town in the summer months and the following September they all went away to college together. She was so close to feeling normal again, but there was still a small piece of her that no one understood.

“When I was diagnosed I still lived at home and my parents were still responsible for me, but as I neared the end of my treatment, I began to realize that I was very close to being an adult.”

After she started to get her health back she craved independence.

“I started to want to do things on my own and make my own decisions. I felt guilty about wanting to distance myself from my parents because they had done so much for me over the year. I knew it was natural to feel the way I did, but it was still hard. I wasn’t a five-year-old who needed to be babied. I wasn’t a forty–year-old who was completely independent. I was right smack in the middle of being a kid and an adult.”

She was forced to navigate life, and a lot of her feelings, on her own. Thankfully, Heidi had a great support system made up of her family, friends and her church community, but not everyone is as lucky as her.

The announcement this year that the Alberta Cancer Foundation and Alberta Health Services is adding an Adolescent and Young Adult patient navigator to the system is reassuring for Heidi, knowing others will get the support they need. Heidi was part of the announcement, sharing her story at the Cross Cancer Institute.

Now at 22-years-old Heidi is an entrepreneur. After receiving her diploma in Photographic Technology from NAIT, she started her own photography business (Heidi Amanda Photography) in Edmonton. She continues her passion for volleyball by playing on the sit volleyball team for Canada, and in 2016 her team competed in the Rio Paralympic Games. She explains how having friends who also have amputations, congenital conditions and other disabilities results in a bond with an unspoken understanding.

Currently, Heidi has recently completed her Travel Diploma at MacEwan University, and is passionate about sharing her story.

 If you would like to learn more about how the Alberta Cancer Foundation is supporting young people with cancer, please visit the Patient Navigator Program page and scroll down to AYA Patient Navigator.

-          Sydney Fairfield

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Team One Aim: Finding Strength in Numbers

With a team roster of over 100 riders, Dr. Nigel Brockton, an Alberta Health Services research scientist who specializes in molecular epidemiology, as well as Team One Aim’s co-captain, has an easy way to remember all those names: “First name: Awesome. Last name: People.”

And though Team One Aim is made up of riders from all corners of CancerControl Alberta and beyond, Dr. Brockton says they are all “indignant objectors to the burden of cancer!”

Alongside fellow co-captains, Bradley Arthur, Business Development Specialist at Heninger Toyota; Alison McGrath, a physiotherapist at BodyCheck Prevention & Health Physiotherapy Centre in Calgary; and Kevin Jones, Sales Administration Manager at Heninger Toyota, Team One Aim has managed to raise an incredible $2,245,515 since the team started in 2010 for the Alberta Cancer Foundation.

When asked what motivates everyone to sign up for the Ride, Dr. Brockton’s empathy and team pride shines through as he describes the feelings that unite the team.

“We all [ride] because we feel the need to push back against cancer, to make a stand, to defy the negativity of cancer and do something positive… Something big. The team started because we found each other and realized that we shared that deeply-held passion …and we all kind of like each other!”

According to Dr. Brockton, his favourite part of the Ride is when the whole team sets off together on day two in their signature white and navy jerseys.  Indeed, Team One Aim is an impressive sight to behold as they ride together over the majestic Rockies — a sight made possible thanks to the team’s “no-drop” policy which means no rider ever gets left behind during training or the Ride. Dr. Brockton takes that policy seriously and over the years he has doubled back once he’s hit the finish line at camp to help riders who might need a literal push up a hill.

Thank you, Team One Aim, for all of your hard work and perseverance!

If you are interested in helping Team One Aim reach their fundraising goal and make life better for Albertans facing cancer, please visit Team One Aim’s Fundraising Page today.

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Team Cross Cancer Institute Unites From Three Different Provinces for an Incredible Cause

Meet Team Cross Cancer Institute (Team CCI). They are about to cycle over 200km in the ninth annual Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer to make a difference for cancer patients across Alberta. Dedicated? They are! This team of over 40 individuals brings a whole new meaning to the word “strong.”

While this amazing group of 40 fearless Riders includes physicians, nurses, therapists and staff from the Cross Cancer Institute, the majority of Team CCI are survivors and loved ones of cancer patients from Northern Alberta, North Red Deer, the Northwest Territories and Northern B.C. Regardless of where they come from, every member of the team has some connection to cancer and the Cross Cancer Institute, be it professional, personal, or both. And, they are eager to make a difference!

This team is led by Co-Captain, Winston Poon, a radiation therapist at the Cross Cancer Institute and a nine-time rider, and Co-Captain Brian Kiely, a Unitarian Church Minister and 6-time rider!

We had the opportunity to chat with Winston to learn more about his long-term support of the Ride. When asked, “If you could pick anyone to meet you at the finish line, no matter the circumstance, who would it be?”

Winston answered, “Seeing all of the survivors that we have helped and the families of those who we ride in memory of during the entire weekend, unified for one cause…”

We couldn’t agree more.

“Doing the Ride gives those of us who are clinicians and staff at the Cross Cancer Institute the ability to connect to the effort against cancer as it happens outside of the Cross Cancer Institute’s walls.  It also gives survivors and their friends and family a venue to be a part of the care effort we deliver at the Cross Cancer Institute in the battle against this disease,” says Winston.

Winston and his team carry that motivation with them during every Thursday and Sunday when the team goes on their training rides. So far, Team CCI has raised $105,000 this year alone and they’re not about to let anything slow them down, including chafing.

“We are urging teammates to get in as much time on their bike saddles as they can before the event,” explains Winston.

Winston also recommends bib shorts, chamois butter, and “vitamin I” (ibuprofen) to his teammates in order to combat any chafing on the day of the Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer.

We’d like to thank every member of Team CCI for everything they do to create more moments for Albertans facing cancer. If you are interested in helping Team CCI reach their goal of raising over $150,000 to make life better for Albertans facing cancer, please visit: http://bit.ly/TeamCrossCancerInstitute

 -          Sydney Fairfield

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Catching Up with the Tom Baker Cancer Conquerors

Yup, that’s right, they’re back again! Team Tom Baker Cancer Conquerors are gearing up for the Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer and this year they will be entering the Rride with over 120 teammates made up of physicians, nurses, patients and community members all dedicated to supporting cancer research and care at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre.

“Each individual has a personal story to tell, but we share the common goal of supporting clinical trials and ultimately searching for a cure,” says team captain Dr. Nancy Nixon, Breast Oncology Research Fellow at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre.

Dr. Nixon is one of four team captains of the Tom Baker Cancer Conquerors, which includes Scott Schroeder, Director of Marketing & Physician Relations, EFW Radiology; Elaine Bruce, cancer survivor and 6-time Rider; and Hall Murdoch, CPA, CA, Partner, MNP LLP.

The team has held several different fundraisers in order to make the biggest impact possible for cancer patients across Alberta including a team BBQ, a comedy show, exercises classes and silent auctions.

At this point the team has raised over $229,300, and they continue to work towards their fundraising goal of $500,000. As the Tom Baker Cancer Conquerors train and prepare for the Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer, they are united in their anticipation for the moment when they will be immersed in the incredible energy of Ride Day.

“We all come together as a community, and it’s a truly powerful experience,” says Dr. Nancy Nixon.

After the Ride, the Tom Baker Cancer Conquerors plan on enjoying a liquid reward together (a.k.a a cold beer!) back at camp to celebrate the difference they have made possible.

If you are interested in helping the Tom Baker Cancer Conquerors reach their goal of raising $500,000 to make life better for Albertans facing cancer, please visit: http://bit.ly/TomBakerCancerConquerors

- Sydney Fairfield

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Going Above and Beyond

Kristy Reimer (left), Marnie Cardell (center) and Christie Farrer (right).

At the Alberta Cancer Foundation, we have had the pleasure of meeting so many everyday heroes; from the courageous patients who walk through the doors of their local cancer centre, to the generous donors eager to make a difference, to the devoted caregivers who dedicate every moment to making life better for Albertans facing cancer. It’s an honour to meet each of these individuals and to be able to share some of their stories with you.

This story, in particular, is about the members of the Tom Baker Cancer Champions OneWalk to Conquer Cancer team. These everyday heroes are not only staff members at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre, but they also have raised $8,300 in support of the Alberta Cancer Foundation’s OneWalk to Conquer Cancer event.

This team is led by Kristy Reimer, the Executive Administrative Assistant to Dr. Sunil Verma, Department Head of Oncology and Medical Director for the Tom Baker Cancer Centre.

Recently, we had the pleasure of catching up with Kristy to ask her a few questions about the day-to-day of her job, what she likes best about working at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre and why she and her fellow Walkers decided to sign up for the 25 km walk.

“I’m looking forward to being outside, meeting new people and representing the Tom Baker Cancer Centre. I think it’s important for our cancer centre to have a presence in the community and to show that we are here and we care.” – Kristy Riemer

Catching up with Kristy  

Diana Gaviria: Tell us about what a regular day at work is like for you and what you enjoy best about it.

Kristy Reimer: I do so much it’s hard to remember everything! [Laughs] I have a fun job and it keeps me really busy. The best part is being able to help physicians, staff and patients at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre move forward on a daily basis with their work by helping them find the information they need. I enjoy just being of service, really.

DG: Who will you be walking with on June 24th?

KR: There are six people on the team including myself.

·         Nancy Guebert, Chief Program Officer for Cancer Control Alberta;

·         Dr. Sunil Verma, Department Head of Oncology and Medical Director for Tom Baker Cancer Centre;

·         Adriana Matutino, Medical Oncology Fellow;

·         Christie Farrer, Administrative Assistant to Dr. Vincent Tam, Associate Director of Education and Dr. Winson Chung, Medical Lead for Provincial Health Services Research;

·         Marnie Cardell, Executive Administrative Assistant to Dr. Dean Ruether, Medical Director for Community Oncology.

We all have very long titles! 

DG: Yes, I can see that! With all that you do for cancer care in Alberta on a day to day basis, what motivated you, personally, to sign up for OneWalk to Conquer Cancer?

KR: Cancer has affected my family a lot. I’ve lost both of my grandmothers to cancer, my step grandmother and my 92-year-old grandfather has melanoma. He’s doing well, though.! [Cancer has] always affected my family and I see the way it affects Albertans on a daily basis. I want to be able to do my part and give back, even if it’s in some small way.

DG: What are you most looking forward to on event day?

KR: Being outside, meeting new people and representing the Tom Baker Cancer Centre. I think it’s important that we have a presence in the community and to show that we are here and we care.

Following her interview, we gave Kristy the opportunity to ask her fellow teammates about their own reasons for signing up for OneWalk to Conquer Cancer. Here’s what the rest of the Tom Baker Cancer Champions had to say about their motivations for lacing up!

“Why OneWalk to Conquer Cancer?”

“Like most people, cancer has impacted my personal life. I’m walking in memory of a friend of mine who lost her battle with brain cancer. Fundraising helps me feel like I’m doing something to join the fight, and knowing that funds are put right back into our centres and directly impacts the work being done here, is an added bonus.” - Christie Farrer

“I am walking because as a member of the team working within the Cancer Control Alberta program it is an honor to be able to walk with patients, families, staff and supporters of our program and to thank them for their help in fulfilling our mission and vision within our Alberta.  It is a humbling experience to be able to walk alongside people who exemplify courage, determination and strength.” – Nancy Guebert 

“I lost both my husband and mother within two months of each other to cancer. The closest to home was the cancer journey with my husband who was treated at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre for pancreatic cancer for over two years - weekly.  He did not win his battle but he made a conscious choice to live every day with courage and physical activity.  While in treatment, he rode in the Ride to Conquer Cancer, applied to the Amazing Race, ran many ultra-marathons and said ‘yes’ to life, always with a positive attitude. It is for him that I walk on June 24th.  And, it is with deep gratitude for all that was offered during cancer treatment and care for my husband and mother, that our family will forever be thankful for these fundraising efforts in Alberta.”    - Marnie Cardell

On behalf of the Alberta Cancer Foundation, thank you to every member of the Tom Baker Cancer Champions for being our everyday heroes – both inside the four walls of the Tom Baker Cancer Centre and beyond. We are so lucky to have your support.

Help the Tom Baker Cancer Champions make a difference in the lives of Albertans facing cancer, donate to their team’s fundraising page today!

-          Diana Gaviria and Breanne Ross

[albertacancer]

“You feel like you’re broken”

On breast cancer and reconstruction

For the last two years, Danielle Theriault, an Intensive Care Unit nurse at Edmonton’s Royal Alexandra Hospital and cancer survivor, has been living with one breast. She says it feels so long she can’t even remember what it was like to have two.

She is hopeful she will have reconstructive surgery this September; although she admits the decision to have reconstructive surgery was ‘the hardest part’ of her cancer journey.

“You feel like you’re broken. Something happened and you got through it, but you’re broken and now you have to be put back together and it’s scary. It’s also kind of scary because I was living with one breast for two years and I didn’t remember what it was like having two breasts. But in the back of your mind, you think “If I have two breasts again, does that mean the cancer is going to come back?” It was definitely the hardest part for me.”

“You feel like you’re broken. Something happened and you got through it, but you’re broken and now you have to be put back together and it’s scary.”

When Danielle was 28 she found a lump in her breast. After undergoing a series of tests, including a mammogram and biopsy, the results said the lump was benign. Danielle, however, sensed something wasn’t right.

 “I kept noticing that the lump was changing. I was in pain, my nipple was flat and I could see it in my breast,” she says.

“Finally, I was referred to a surgeon and had a lumpectomy one year later in 2015. Once the lump was removed, they did the pathology and on Groundhog Day I got the results back. It was cancer. Two weeks later I had a lymph node biopsy and my doctor informed me that the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes.”

Less than two months after her lumpectomy, Danielle underwent a mastectomy, with six rounds of chemo and 20 rounds of radiation immediately after.

“You gain a lot perspective when you have cancer,” explains Danielle, adding that this new outlook is something no one can ever take away from her. Her experience as a cancer patient has given her a new kind of empathy and ability to relate to her patients.

Danielle has also become a strong advocate of ‘feeling the girls’ and often. She posts regular reminders on her Instagram about the importance of taking care of yourself and going to see your doctor immediately if something feels off.  

“People who I work with and even people on Instagram reach out to me and say thank you [for these reminders],” says Danielle. “I’m a part of this club that no one wants to be in, but once you’re in, people open their hearts to you.”

“I’m a part of this club that no one wants to be in, but once you’re in, people open their hearts to you.”

In spite of all she went through, Danielle says she’s able to be positive about her experience with cancer.  She hopes that by sharing her story others will feel empowered to advocate for their own health and receive the kind of care they deserve.

She is also enthusiastically grateful for the care she received at the Cross Cancer Institute and is quick to say how special the place is to her. She talks about the unspoken camaraderie among cancer patients and how with just a simple nod, they let each other know that they’re in this together.

“There is no place I’d rather go to get treatment and no other place I’d rather go even if I had a scare,” she says. “It’s an amazing place and they do amazing work.”  

These days you can find Danielle hiking, knitting and taking selfies with her adorable niece and godson. She knows cancer is a lifelong journey and embraces her newfound identity as an advocate for early detection. Her sense of humour and honesty about her experience makes her an incredibly approachable person to talk to about what it’s like to have gone through cancer.

“This is a lifelong thing. It’s a part of me forever now and it’s a part of my story. So, if me sharing my story shines a little bit of light on someone else’s experience, or motivates someone to do a self-exam or to start knitting knockers or just helps turn someone’s bad day around, then it was worth it.”

Want to follow this amazing gal on Instagram? Catch her hilarious and heartwarming posts here: Danielle Thierault Instagram.

-          Sydney Fairfield

Photo credit: Amara Dirks Photography

[albertacancer]

Finding Doris

Every Friday for the past 17 years, including shortly after a second angina attack, Doris Pfeifle gets on a city bus, braving the cold Edmonton winter to volunteer for the Alberta Cancer Foundation. Despite her fear of elevators (she once changed dentists because it would have required taking an elevator up to see him), she takes a deep breath, rides up to the seventh floor, determined to put in her four-hour volunteer shift.

During those hours, Doris is a role model to the several generations lucky enough to see her work. She looks over receipts—500 to 1000 a week--that are sent to donors wanting to make a difference for cancer patients and families in Alberta. She models true leadership by taking the time to check on everyone else, remembering meaningful details about people’s personal lives. It is a privilege for the Alberta Cancer Foundation team to learn from her and aspire to be as caring and motivated as she is.

At 88 years old, Doris is sharp. The former Epcor employee can tell you if an address has the wrong postal code—from memory. She taps into an appreciated level of creativity to help stretch donor dollars further and impact even more Albertans. She reuses supplies to ensure she isn’t spending extra money and suggests ideas to improve on bookkeeping processes, including our returned mail process that she organized single-handedly.

Doris’ passion to help others is endless. Arguably the biggest baseball fan around--the Toronto Blue Jays have her heart—her energy doesn’t stop at helping the Alberta Cancer Foundation. A mother and grandmother, she is also an award-winning bowler and a constant champion for others, volunteering at church where she leads a group of ladies to make sandwiches for funerals or other occasions. She constantly thinks of others first, visiting friends, some much younger than she is, to help when needed. Her goodwill ranges from lifting friends’ spirits to clipping toenails. Whatever is needed, Doris is there. She exemplifies selflessness, courage and love for others every day and was recognized for her 3000 hours award at the Cross Cancer Institute Volunteer Appreciation and Dinner on May 21, 2014.

At almost 52,000 receipts a year, countless elevator rides and hundreds of staff she has mentored, we are honoured to have Doris as part of our family and hope she is recognized for her unwavering volunteer commitment. As Mother Theresa said, "I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples." Doris has created many ripples for Albertans facing cancer and anyone who has been lucky enough to know her. She truly deserves this honour.

- Phoebe Dey