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Debbie Kerr

Cancer's lessons about life and death

Society often admires speed. It’s a sign of efficiency (not when I’m cleaning). It’s a sign of technical advancement (fast cars and fast computer processors). It’s the expectation that you can communicate with anyone in real-time no matter where they are in the world. And now, with AI (artificial intelligence), you can complete things even faster with very little effort on your part. “You did that so quickly” are words of praise.


But then, there is the flipside. Kids grow up too quickly. Vacations end before you are ready to go back to work. People die too soon. In these instances, you don’t admire speed. You want to treasure every moment. You want life to slow down.


Breast cancer awareness month

Breast cancer pink ribbon to represent breast cancer awareness month

I don’t need a particular month to make me aware of breast cancer. I have experienced it first-hand, and it comes to mind, pretty much every day, even though I finished my treatments in 2011. Based on statistics, I am considered a survivor, because I have lived for five years after my diagnosis. The problem is, calling someone a survivor after five years implies that you are done with breast cancer and your life can go back to normal. Unfortunately, this is not always the case.  


This fact was driven home very recently. Twelve days before Thanksgiving (in Canada), my friend, Ann, died unexpectedly. Her breast cancer, which had been diagnosed and treated seven years earlier, had spread to her brain. In an ironic twist of fate, the number of days between Ann’s diagnosis until the day she passed away was less than 12 days. She was only 61.

 

Ann knew the importance of having regular mammograms; however, when she was told she had dense breasts, she didn’t know that it made it more likely that she would develop breast cancer or that it would be harder to detect without supplemental screening. Unfortunately, she was not alone. The doctors didn’t (and some still don’t) understand the impact of having dense breasts.


Ann found out the hard way when she was given the all-clear after her mammogram, only to be told, just six months later, that she had Stage 3 breast cancer. So, as part of her advocacy work, particularly with Dense Breasts Canada, she shared her story and triggered change. All provinces now include the breast density category as part of mammogram results. With this new information, women and doctors can make more informed decisions about when supplemental screening can help to find breast cancer earlier…at a stage when it is more treatable and treatments can be less aggressive.


Advocacy work

Arrows in a circle around the word change to show how advocacy triggers change

And so, like Ann, and many others who have had their own experiences with cancer, I advocate for changes within the medical system. I also advocate for improvements to health literacy both before and after a cancer diagnosis. Hopefully, with more knowledge, cancer can be detected earlier with better outcomes.


Being an advocate is a double-edged sword. When you achieve success, for example changes to legislation will lead to better healthcare, it makes being an advocate feel worthwhile.  As part of my advocacy, I have also made some very close friends. They understand the emotions associated with doing this kind of work.  They understand what it is like to have cancer, whether they have finished treatments or not. You become a tightly knit community. You talk about things that many people will never discuss. You open your heart. You share your pain. You listen, because you understand. That is truly a gift…something great that comes out of something so bad. 


Unfortunately, because you open your heart, and you care so deeply, you also open yourself to the possibility that the people you hold so dear will pass away, well before they might have died if they had never received a cancer diagnosis. That is what happened with Ann, and so many others before her. I have cried many tears, but I have also felt joy for having been blessed by knowing them.


What I have learned about life and death

As a tribute to Ann, who always liked the lists in my blog posts, here is a list of some of the things that she taught me or reminded me to do:

Two sunflowers
  • Realize that while you believe that you have more time to live the life you want, what you believe is not always the reality.

  • Tell people how important they are to you. Do it while they are alive and can appreciate what you are saying.

  • Accept praise and kind words from others. Many of us, including me, struggle to accept praise. Our ready phrase is, “It was nothing.” Remember, if it mattered enough for someone to say it to you, it was something.

  • Advocate for what you believe is right. Make a difference, not only for yourself, but for the people around you.

  • Recognize that family is more than just blood relatives. While I was Ann’s friend, when combined with our own mutual group of friends, I felt like family to the other people in our group, including Ann.

  • Remember that being loved and giving love are two of the greatest gifts in life.

  • Take baby steps as necessary. Little actions can make a big difference. Sign a petition. Share your story. Learn from other people’s stories.

  • Act now instead of later. You don’t have to live a long life to achieve a lot.

  • Accept that even if you do everything right, sometimes life goes terribly wrong.

  • Be the calm in the storm, because it can be just as effective as being the storm.

  • Appreciate the true value of your friends. Take every opportunity to build memories with them. Support them and accept their support when it’s needed.

  • Be open to learning from others.

  • Write it down. Sometimes the best way to communicate emotions is to share them in writing with someone so that they can be read when needed.

  • Acknowledge the impact of someone’s death on your own emotional and physical well-being. Take the time to grieve. Allow yourself to cry. Ask for hugs (or tissues) when needed.


I will forever be grateful for my family (both blood relatives and my friends, both inside and outside the cancer world). Even in a year of losing my mother, and several friends who have died from cancer, I feel truly blessed.   

2 comments

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Guest
Oct 25
Rated 5 out of 5 stars.

Awesome post friend

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Guest
Oct 15
Rated 5 out of 5 stars.

Excellent post w an excellent list

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