I’m getting to know the new Arthur Child Cancer Care Centre at Foothills Hospital. It is a beautiful, new $50 million dollar complex that caters to the research, treatment and support of those diagnosed with cancer of any kind. I am learning that once diagnosed with cancer, one begins a battle that is life-long.

I got lucky, if there is such a thing with cancer. We caught it in its early stages. I chose a double mastectomy to ensure it would not come back. I took genetic testing to see if I had other possible cancers in my DNA. I took the oncotype test to determine if traditional chemo or radiation would help prolong my life. It wouldn’t so I didn’t have to go through that. All I needed was to swallow a little white pill for five years to ensure that my body wouldn’t make any more cancer-causing estrogen. But when I couldn’t get out of bed because of vertigo, and my body contorted into painful muscle tightening shapes and leaving the house was a risk unless I carried a plastic bag with me…I said stop.

Cancer is the unknown. It’s life threatening and when one has been given a diagnosis, it is difficult to think clearly. It is difficult to think at all. Treatment would be straight forward to blindly follow the advice of the experts. If only I wasn’t inquisitive. No one can seem to fully answer why five years. Even the experts have varying opinions. Some say five, some say ten, some say forever if it doesn’t seem to bother you. What happens after the five years? That is a varied answer too. “We can’t say”. What about testing in between now and then? “That’s different with every patient.” And what I learned and experienced about the side effects, is that they include hot flashes, headaches, bone loss, muscle pain and sometimes ovarian cancer! How is this part of a stay healthy regime? It baffles me.

It was at my recent physical that I shared I had quit my medication and was finally starting to feel normal. Two days later, the oncologist called and asked me to come in. “We are wanting you to try a different drug”, the young doctor smiled. Why? I asked. “Because we believe this is your best chance to live another ten years.”

Fear is the reason this pill becomes necessary. I don’t want to die. I have a lot to do before I travel off to the next realm. As I sat listening to her talk of the new plan and this pill and how we will be more vigilant with any side effects, fear had me agree to try again. I don’t know what this pill will do. It isn’t a promise I will be safe from cancer returning. It is more of a weak insurance policy. Yet, it is the only answer the experts have for me.

As I left the Cancer Centre with my new prescription in hand, I walked through the halls where other patients were travelling to their appointments. I am one of thousands battling cancer. Some of us are just becoming aware of the battle to be. Some of us are amid the battle. Some, like me, are battling to ensure it does not return. Wherever one is in the battle, it is a battle. It is so much like grief. It includes fear, sadness, hope and determination. It is exhausting. And like grief, it includes faith. Faith that I have the strength needed to travel the path I have been given.