10 Things I Learned From Cancer

on a very special anniversary.

It’s a balloons and cake day for me today. I’m lucky enough to be celebrating my 10 year cancer anniversary. In honour and gratitude, I’ve picked out my cake recipe and put together ten things I’ve learned along the way.

1️⃣ My husband is a great chemo date.

He was also really good at setting aside his squeamishness and draining my surgical tube!

Here we are at my first chemo session. I remember I was so nervous that day.

2️⃣ There’s freedom in not having to worry about your hair for over a year.

There were no bad hair days. I spent $0.00 on hair care. And I kind of liked myself bald.

3️⃣ Cancer can happen to anyone.

I have to admit, at first, my diagnosis came as a bit of a shock. By all accounts I was low risk on the breast cancer scale. I didn’t smoke; I didn’t drink; I was vegetarian; I had my first child at a relatively young age; I breast-fed both my sons for two years (each!). Yet— I still got it. And it was the stage 3 aggressive kind. If I’m being open here, until then, I was a bit of a health snob. There was something about getting cancer that just slashed at my ego and humbled me to my core.

4️⃣ Every cancer journey is unique. Every treatment journey is unique.

I remember before I started chemo, the hospital sent me home with a thick, white binder containing all the possible side-effects and information I needed for what was to come (of course, I understand—they have to do that), but I started reading, and quickly got so overwhelmed with it all, that I just set it aside, never to look at it again. Whatever happened would happen.

A day before going in for chemo, I spoke to someone who coincidentally was in pharmaceuticals selling chemo drugs. I remember asking him, if while going through treatment I would be strong enough to walk my son to school (I was clueless). And, he replied, probably not. Shame on him. I never missed a single day of walking my son to and from school. Don’t assume someone else’s experience will be your experience too. Which brings me to the next point:

5️⃣ Don’t assume to know what someone else is going through.

I had a pet peeve, and it was: people apologizing for what had happened to me without me ever telling them how I felt about it. Most of the time (not always: see below), I didn’t feel bad about the fact that cancer happened. My attitude was—this is life. Stuff happens. Up to then, I’d been blessed with so much. I needed something tough to test out what I was made of. Coasting on life equals zero growth. And up to then, I’d pretty much been coasting. It was time to see if all the self-help/spiritual stuff I’d been learning about worked in real life or if it just existed in my head. That being said, I also learned patience and that:

6️⃣ It is okay to be scared of dying and plead with the universe for your life.

Even if it’s no use in the grand scheme of things. I started with— just give me enough time for my youngest son to finish elementary school. No mother wants to leave their children when they’re still children. Six years later, at his grade 8 graduation (it was virtual because of Covid (yuck!)), I breathed a sigh of relief. And, right away, started pleading to be there with him through high school. Now, I want to see my older son get married, and my younger son make his first feature film!

7️⃣ I hate the term ‘fighting cancer’.

I lost my father and grandfather to cancer, does that mean they should have “fought” harder? Or that they somehow failed on the “battlefield?” Of course not.

8️⃣ I wish I would have taken more pictures. Looking back, I’m so proud of myself.

I can look back now, and say to myself: you did chemo in style! Retrospectively, don’t we always look at ourselves with admiration for who we were? Here I am celebrating my 40th birthday halfway through chemo.

9️⃣ It’s okay to accept help.

This was a tough one for me. It’s still a work in progress.

🔟 Aging is a beautiful.

Each birthday, each grey hair, each new wrinkle is proof that I’m alive, I’ve made it this far. Do I wish my knees were as strong as they were as eighteen-year-old knees, or that my memory would stay as sharp as it was at twenty? Sure, but at least I’m here to feel the twinges when I climb a long flight of stairs, or marvel at my mind when I desperately scour it for the name of the actor who played Gary in Hit Man.

It is a privilege to grow old.

the cake:

Here’s what I’m off to make to celebrate the past 10 years and toast to, hopefully, the 10 more to come. I wish I could share some with all of you.

Thank you so much for being here on this journey with me 🩷

XO Ingrid