Michael is honouring his mother through his "Cards for Cancer" fundraiser.

I registered as an individual last year for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure. As a fundraiser, I started a campaign, which I call “Cards for Cancer.”

When I was growing up, my mother and I spent every Saturday in the spring and summer going to yard sales and flea markets. We both loved to find great deals, and collected many items. As the years passed, our obsession led to a full basement and garage, and boxes of found treasures piled up in our dining room. The TV show “Hoarders” was not around at this time, but if it had been, we would have been on it. Finally, my mother realized our hobby was out of control, and decided to open a second hand store, where we sold all of our items we collected over the years: books, movies, dishes, sports cards and much, much more. Finally, as more years passed, our house had the space to be a home again.

My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1997. She was brave and strong, and fought it off. However, the cancer returned and in 2001 she passed away. Since then, I relocated to Edmonton, Alberta. Of all the things I had collected while growing up, the one collection I partly kept going was my postcards. I had managed to keep this collection organized and under control, until recently. Earlier this year, I responded to an online ad, from someone who had boxes of postcards for sale for only $2.00 per box, each containing 300 to 400 postcards, but each box was of the same card. We set up a meeting, and I went to see the postcards.

I arrived at the gentleman’s home, he opened up the garage door, and there were boxes of boxes of postcards. Suddenly, I had this familiar feeling come over me, like the one I had when I was with my mother at a yard sale and I found an amazing deal. I purchased six boxes. When I arrived home and opened the boxes, I realized there were actually 1,000 post cards per box. I was overwhelmed. I immediately contacted the seller of these postcards again, set up another meeting and purchased another 30 boxes. This came to a grand total of 36,000 post cards! They were mostly all duplicates; in total there were roughly 45 different types. As I dragged the boxes into my apartment, I then felt the other feeling I had from my days of “yardsaling” with my mother, that feeling where my hobby was taking over my home. I do trade post cards, but knew I would never trade this many in a lifetime. I remembered my mother and the second hand store. I thought, what better way to honour these memories of my mother, than to turn this obsession into a positive – donations for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation.

I am participating in the Run for the Cure again this year, and am continuing the “Cards for Cancer” initiative.

If you would like to visit Michael’s “Cards for Cancer” Facebook page, please visit http://www.facebook.com/groups/cardsforcancer/.

Paula at present day after completing her treatments.

My name is Paula and, like many others, thought that I was the picture of health. I rarely, if ever, got sick, was physically active and in the best shape that I’ve been in years. Life was pretty good, or so I thought. I had just recently met a wonderful man, my kids were grown and wonderfully independent, I have two beautiful granddaughters and I am only 50!

In the early spring of 2010 one of my dearest friends came over for dinner and during the course of the evening we spoke of her now deceased mother who had died seven years earlier due to breast cancer that had eventually spread through her entire body. She passed away in her very early 50s. Her story is that the lump had not been correctly diagnosed so therefore enabled the cancer to spread to many areas of her body. The reason we spoke of this was because I too had a lump in my breast that had been there for five years, but I had been told it was just a cyst. I had left it since I had not noticed any changes in my breast at all, and so felt relatively safe. With the urging of my dear friend and my wonderful man, I promised I would get it checked again and just have the lump removed. I made my appointment feeling very confident that all this would entail is the removal of the cyst and life would go on. I was not at all prepared for the news I received. Within one week I went from healthy Paula to someone with breast cancer. It was rather unnerving to me as my grandmother on my father’s side had breast cancer and passed away in her early 60s back in 1964 or 1965. I felt I was safe from this disease since it was my father’s mother, but now realize that genetics are not parental-specific.

Upon diagnosis, the surgery was booked and I had a new procedure done. Once the pathology was complete, they determined there were more cancer cells and so I had another surgery. I was able to retain the breast but ended up with complications which I am still to this day dealing with and will be resolved hopefully by the end of the year.

Paula during her treatments.

After surgery, I met with my wonderful oncologist and my chemo plan had been put into place. Apparently my treatment consisted of the most difficult chemo to take after which I lost my hair, eyebrows, eyelashes and even my fingernails. I would look in the mirror and see my father, bald and aged and very unattractive. I still had spirit though and this disease was NOT going to take that away from me too. After the chemo which I choose to not think about too much, I had six weeks of daily radiation. Then the magical day was here … I’m DONE all treatments (with the exception of the issue in the breast I am currently dealing with). The worst was over! Now I had to figure out how to cope, to deal with who or what I am now. My life after one year is no longer governed by doctor’s appointments, and people caring for me. I had to take back the reins and I am still doing this. But I AM A SURVIVOR! I will be strong, as there are others with worse conditions than my own. I have my hair back, I have my looks pretty much back, I am me again and I am going to do what I want to do with my life and be so thankful for all the support and kindness that was shown toward me. I have a second chance like so many others do not have and for that I am eternally grateful and I wish with all my heart to be there for others who may be suffering through this presently. No one understands as much as a person who is either going through this or has survived it.

Life is a gift and we must treasure it each and every day. Our loved ones are also gifts and to those people, family and friends, I wish to thank for all your love, support and kindness during this difficult time.

Kathryn shows her medal at the Disney Princess Half Marathon.

Running has been so tightly entwined with my breast cancer experience. I was a new runner when I got the diagnosis, and running has been my constant therapist.

Never in my life have I run anywhere that did not culminate in boarding a bus or arriving late for class. No speed or endurance whatsoever, not fun, picked last for teams, etc. But after a hand injury that turned my life upside down, I had nothing else to do, so I started off with a 700-metre 20-minute “run.” Following that with a bit of experimentation, I learned that pace was everything. I used a running app to avoid going too fast, and in six months had worked up to a 10k. Quite impressed with myself, I set my sights on the Disney Princess Half Marathon 2010 as the culmination of this turnaround of my sedentary ways.

As I was packing my suitcase for the trip, my husband nonchalantly mentioned the hospital called to say they wanted me back to “redo” my mammogram the next week. As survivors know, that would be the magnified view mammogram appointment at the top of this slippery slope we come to know so well.

I managed to put the ominous recall to the back of my mind and focus on the run, had a spectacular experience, and finished upright and smiling. (Fast, pfft. No, but who cares?) Even developing an IT band injury couldn’t tarnish my tiara medal.

When I got home, I had the magnified view mammogram (look! tiny specks!) and then the stereo biopsy (“probably” perhaps showed signs that it might become DCIS!) Had it been invasive, I like to think that I would have acted immediately but I was beyond a healthy state of stress and I wanted to spend a couple of months shedding some of that stress, getting fitter for anaesthesia and recovery, and reclaim a sense of control. As part of that, I was keen to do the Disneyland Half Marathon (DLHM). The surgeon reassured me that there was no rush and we agreed on a surgery date. The DLHM was such an emotional experience and I crossed the finish line in tears. I think the drive to “survive and prevail” meant more than just running 13.1k.

Kathryn crossing the finish line!

I surrendered to the lumpectomy only to find the DCIS was by then extensive with negligible margins and had changed from ambiguous to high grade. DCIS might be cancer that is still working in the mailroom, but I was sensing that it had management ambitions.  I asked for a mastectomy, where additional DCIS in the pathology report validated my instinct that it would be the right choice for me. I started with a 60-minute walk at three weeks, as soon as the incision was healed. Immediately my physical aches and pains reduced! It took my mind off the past threat and the decisions still lying ahead: prophylactic surgery, reconstruction, and all of those things. Ten weeks after my mastectomy, I was at the finish line of the Princess Half Marathon 2011. I returned to the Disneyland Half in 2011 to focus on ongoing fitness, and am looking forward to my next half marathon to pull me out of the next treatment.

I’ve never had a “why me?” moment in this journey. It has to be someone. For all the percentages bandied around about what percentage of lumps or abnormal mammograms are up to no good, what percentage of cases will have particularly serious outcomes, etc., each individual person is either 0 per cent a breast cancer case or 100 per cent a breast cancer case. Why would it not be me? More important is how am I going to cope with it? What will I do to manage my health and my emotions?

Running has been the number one best thing I have done to survive this unnerving experience, possibly for the physical benefit, but absolutely for how it focuses my head and gives me back a sense of controlling something physical. The endurance of running is so metaphorical. I’m so grateful for it. We could bowl for the cure, knit for the cure, or play bridge for the cure, but to me, running is a perfect way to celebrate the pursuit of ways to improve education, prevention, and yes, the cure.

Lise, right, with her friend Anne as a breast cancer survivor at the Freedom Ride in 2010.

Here is my story of breast cancer.

I received my diagnosis of breast cancer on Dec. 19, 2007 … Merry Christmas?!?!?

I had noticed a lump in my right breast in October and found that in November it was still there. I had a biopsy done on Dec. 12, 2007 to find out on Dec. 19, 2007 that it was indeed cancer.

My husband and I were horrified. We had to tell our three children and also, Christmas was only a week away … How do we deal with that kind of news during a festive season like Christmas?  It was really hard, but my husband is my rock and together we were able to go through the festive season smoothly.

Early January, I had an appointment with a specialist  and after a physical check-up and analysing the results from the biopsy, she told my husband and I that I had no choice but to have a full mastectomy of my right breast. After recovering from my surgery, I saw my oncologist later in February and I started chemotherapy in March 2008. I needed six chemo treatments every three weeks. The 15th day after my first treatment, I lost my hair … I found it harder to lose my hair than to lose a breast. I remember standing in front of the mirror and just running my fingers through my hair and coming out with big clumps of hair … I just burst in tears; it was very hard. A few days later, my sister-in-law shaved my head; that made it much easier to bear.

Lise, right, with her friend Anne at the Freedom Ride in 2008, with one more treatment to go.

During my treatments, I was very sick and I had to be hospitalized after my fourth treatment because my blood count was very low. I finally had my last treatment in July 2008. Just before my last treatment, a very good friend of mine offered that I ride with her at the Bikers Reunion and I was feeling good enough (I was in my good days) to do the “freedom ride” … WOW that was the highlight of my summer and I can never thank my good friend enough for that!

Now almost three years later, I’m still on tamoxifen, but feeling really good. I just had another A-OK check-up.

I had so much support from my family, my friends and the community we live in; it was very overwhelming and I think that that’s what kept me going and fighting and I was not going to give up ever!!!

I love life and everything it has to offer and I am very grateful every day for having a second chance at life.

Throughout my sickness, I wrote down everything in my journal; the way I felt, the things I did, everything. It helped me cope and it was my way of dealing with all of this; just like therapy.

Looking back, I can still remember when I heard the diagnosis. Of course I was stunned and did not hear much of anything else when I heard the word “cancer,” but I never said “Why me?” I’ve always believed that everything happens for a reason and it was the same thing with this. I’ve learned to live life better and appreciate all the little things in life. I try to avoid stress as much as I can and enjoy every day that God brings. My faith has grown through my sickness and I believe that it is that same faith that helped me live through this ordeal in a positive way. I’ve also met so many incredible people through all of this; other cancer patients (we now have a connection every time we meet), nurses, doctors, volunteers. Through my sickness, I even got to renew friendships that I didn’t think I still had.

My husband and my children were always there for me and I am grateful for having them in my life. I now enjoy being a grandmother and I am so grateful for that.

I would like to end with a message for newly-diagnosed cancer patients: “Stay positive, don’t be afraid to ask for help, and be a little selfish … learn to take care of yourself and keep loving life!”

Stephanie, second from left, with her mother Sylvia, sister Vanessa, and grandmother Uranie at the Cook for the Cure party.

My name is Stephanie, and I have been hosting an annual Cook for the Cure party to support the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation since 2008. In only three years, my friends, family and I have been able to donate over $10,000 to the Foundation.

About seven years ago my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, and three years ago my maternal grandmother was diagnosed. My paternal grandmother died of breast cancer before I was born. When I started thinking about all the people I know who have been affected by this disease, it dawned on me that something had to be done! I thought that the Cook for the Cure program would be a great platform for fundraising.

My 2010 event was the most successful yet! I hosted 50 women at my home, and they all brought their favorite dish! Many businesses in my community were more than generous in donating raffle prizes and delicious food. With the help of all these wonderful people, I was able to raffle off a Kitchen Aid Mixer, Gucci key chain, a beauty product basket, and many, many more prizes that were worth over $3,000!

This year’s event stands to be just as successful as last year’s. We’ve even designed a logo for the event which is going to be called “Pink.” I am so grateful for the number of people willing to help make this a success.

My main goal is to see a future without breast cancer in our lifetime. I believe that it is possible!

Dana is a seven-year breast cancer survivor and shares her advice to those who have been affected by breast cancer.

In December 2003, I turned 40 years old. Wonderful friends and family surprised me with a great party, and life was good … I was excited to head into the next stage of my life.

In February 2004, as I sat watching TV one day, my right breast started to feel some pain. As I felt the area, I discovered a lump and thought, oh, oh, that should not be there…  Knowing that time was of the essence I called the doctor the next day, and I was in for the check up, off to the ultrasound, biopsy, and back to her with the diagnosis of breast cancer (it was a frantic couple of weeks). I realized at that time that my life was not going to start at 40; that would have to wait. I now had to take the adventure of a lifetime.

The lump was removed and it was on to six months of chemo. My dear friend RA took her vacation time and came to every chemo appointment with me, and CB stocked my fridge with her wonderful homemade soups. It was a true blessing to have such wonderful friends and family when I needed them the most. But then again, that is what true friendship is all about.

I went into the treatment very upbeat. I was and always will be a true believer of having a positive attitude.

I got up every morning and showered, dressed and went to work (yes, I worked through the whole thing), knowing I had to keep myself busy. I was not afraid of losing my hair. I had always been a blond, so I bought a red wig. I thought, if I have to do this, why not have some fun with it?  Don’t get me wrong, I was very emotional. But I knew I had to shake it off and get on to the next event of this adventure: chemo.

Chemo, as you all know, is not a pleasant thing to do. However, I knew I had to suck it up and get it done. So RA and I spent the chemo days playing backgammon, laughing and having great conversations. Sure, we got some strange looks. But at the same time, encouraging comments came our way.

During my treatments I craved grease, so I ate a lot of KFC. Again, I thought, if I have to go through this, I will eat whatever makes me happy. KFC made me happy. I had some pounds to lose when it was all over, but that was ok.

After my chemo was completed I did six weeks of radiation. With my positive attitude, I seemed to breeze through it. I was very tired, but I just hit the sack earlier than usual.

Finally, I was done. My tests all came back great and I was sent on my way. During my adventure over the past year, this was the time I felt lost; I had spent most of the year with these people, having them get me back to health and on to the next stage of my life, but I could not stop thinking that I was being thrown overboard to sink or swim. I knew everything was done that could be done and it was now a waiting game to see if all the treatments worked.

It has been seven years and I still get panicky when I go for my yearly round of tests. I guess this is a feeling that will always be in the back of my mind.

If I can give one word of advice to anyone going through chemo, or any kind of treatment, it would be to stay positive. Think of it as an adventure — a path that you must go down to get the job done. Make it all about you, because at this point, it is.

Dana

Seven-year survivor

Lucie says she was very proud to wear her Survivor t-shirt at this year's Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure.

My experience with breast cancer started in November 2000 when my mother-in-law announced that she had breast cancer. I cried and cried; I was nine months pregnant with my son, Jackson. In the summer of 2001 I participated in the “Weekend to End Breast Cancer” in honour of my mother-in-law. I never imagined that I would also be afflicted with the disease one day.

The spring of 2003 is when “IT” happened! I found a lump in my left breast. After a mammogram, an ultrasound and a biopsy I was diagnosed with a benign tumour — phew! What a scare that was. I thought I was free and clear, but then “IT” happened again. In December 2010, I found another lump in the same breast. In January 2011, my husband Mark and I sat in the doctor’s office nervously waiting for the news. I’ll never forget her words: “You have breast cancer.” Mark and I cried.

Since February 2011, I’ve had surgery, chemo and am currently undergoing radiation treatments. It’s tough but it’s necessary. Every time I look at my son I know I have no choice but to do everything possible to survive. My cancer was caught early, thank God. However, it is a very aggressive cancer; the most aggressive breast cancer you can have.

I participated in the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure on Oct. 2, 2011 with my sister, friends and colleagues. I was very proud to wear a “Survivor” t-shirt. I caught it early and I SURVIVED!

Most sincerely,

Lucie Dunbar

Meagan with her parents at the 2009 Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure in Mississauga, Ontario.

The cancer patient isn’t the only one battling the war. It takes the whole family’s strength and heart to win the fight. My name is Meagan, I am 17 years old, and my whole high school experience has revolved around the “C word.” I’ve experienced myself holding onto my chest a number of times, but it wasn’t as if I were holding onto a massive tumour like him or her. I was grasping my heart, hoping that the pressure from my hand would stop the hurt, just as it would on a stinging wound. If I were to look at myself from a distance, I would see the same girl who felt all of these emotions and watch her hide them behind her eyes. But if you were to take a closer look, you’d see the same girl in a different light — her lips staying tense and her hands clenched as if she were going to punch a wall at any second. That girl was not me. But these things only made me stronger.

Three years ago, when I was in Grade 10, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. That moment hit me like a ton of bricks because I had luckily never witnessed anyone in my family having cancer until that point. I remember every day of that journey, from going to the hair shop to shave it off (I was the one who cried first), to the six surgeries and then to the long nights of chemotherapy. My brothers and I would sit in the dark with her as she would just lie there sleeping, so lifeless. It was horrifying. I always considered my mother my best friend and we have a relationship like no other. When she got a mastectomy and rang the bell at Credit Valley Hospital, I had the biggest smile on my face that I’ve had in my entire life. It was finally over, and time for my family’s new beginning.

Two years later (present year), my family and I were shocked to find out my dad had a tumour within his chest wall — even bigger than my mom’s two tumours put together. I remember thinking to myself, “This is insane! It can’t be cancer!” But a month after the biopsy we heard the horrible “M word” — malignant. Then my whole year turned into déjà vu. I witnessed my father go through many surgeries and even longer treatments of chemotherapy than those my mom dealt with. Thankfully, my father is now officially a cancer survivor as well. My friends always used to tell me, “How could the Lord punish you like this?”, and I always wondered if I had done something wrong. But I have learned from one of my truest friends that the heavens only give you the cards that you are able to deal with. In this case, these experiences were given to me because someone “up there” knew I could handle it. I can take the strength I’ve gained and use it to my benefit so I can accomplish my dreams of music, to use my voice and tell the world my story. I cannot wait to show the new girl I’ve become, and that’s all thanks to what made me feel at my worst.

The only thing I can say to this double whammy is man, I have one amazing family. I have a mother who showed me that if you put your mind toward a goal you can achieve it. I have a father who showed me that he has the courage and strength to fight a battle for us all. And I have two older brothers making sure I don’t hit the ground when I’m ready to fall. With a family like this, no surprise from the heavens can stop me.

Molly with her niece.

This year I participated in the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure because I have been personally affected by breast cancer.

On Oct. 2, 2010 I found a lump in my right breast. It was by absolute fluke. I had a simple itch and scratched something that did not feel right. This is when things changed. Quickly. I booked an appointment to see my GP who felt that this was nothing but a cyst, but got me booked for an ultrasound to be sure. The ultrasound results came back in about two days, stating that a “suspicious” malignant lump was found. I was then booked right away for a biopsy. This was scary, painful and the beginning of quite a journey. The waiting period was the worst. I would jump at each ring of the phone. Just over a week later the call came in while I was at work, asking for me to come to my GP’s office. I lost it. Totally broke down. I made my way to the office with my amazing sister, Megg. I walked in circles around and around while my doctor told us that it was indeed cancer. I barely remember that day, yet it is forever etched in my mind. I cried and cried and cried while the doctor explained things that I simply could not and did not want to hear. Thank God for Megg who was able to take it all in. From here, I met with a surgeon, went for an MRI and mammogram and then more waiting… The waiting during this time was just torture. Not knowing if I was going to lose my entire breast or not. Coming to grips that I did indeed have cancer. The surgeon told me that they found something “suspicious” in the same breast that needed a biopsy. More waiting. We learned that the other lump was not cancer but did need to come out. I was told I would have two lumpectomies. This was my happiest moment since Oct. 2.

On Dec. 2, 2010 I went in for surgery.

On Jan. 31, 2011 I had my first chemo treatment. I went every other week for a total of eight treatments. My hair began falling out exactly two weeks after my first treatment. I had my long hair cut several times before shaving it all off. I felt sick, tired and sad. I somehow managed to work full-time throughout all of this.

On May 11, 2011 I rang the victory bell at Princess Margaret Hospital, marking my last chemo treatment. I was surrounded by so much love and support I could not believe it.

On June 13, 2011 I began radiation every day for 6.5 weeks. I continued to work full-time hours up until about three weeks in. I could not get through a day without falling apart. My body was so run down and my emotions all over the place.

On July 21, 2011 I was off work and about to have my last two radiation treatments. My skin was burnt, raw and sore. I am so exhausted that simply walking the dog and getting to the hospital takes every last drop of energy.

I am SO SO SO blessed to have the most amazing family and friends in my life. A day does not go by when I do not thank God for each and every one of them.

We decided to form our Run for the Cure team, Pink Love, to raise money for this disease that affects far too many people.

I don’t even think that “thank you” begins to express what I want to say to each of you. I am truly at a loss for words as I sit back at home (now warm and dry) typing this letter.

Sunday was a complete success. Even the rain and cold weather did not stop those of you who ran, walked, pushed and pranced (that’s Sir Oxford!) to the finish line. It was cold, wet and muddy but Pink Love was determined, spirited and enthusiastic right to the end.

This year has been a bit of an adventure. I think I have re-discovered a lot of things and learned more about myself and the world that I live in. This curve ball that was thrown my way has inspired me to never forget how much I appreciate those around me, to always enjoy the “little things” and to realize just how precious life is.

I still have a difficult time believing that a year ago so much could change so quickly. But this short little year also feels like an eternity.

I like to think that each day I feel better and better. I am still finding myself quite exhausted and needing naps or downtime each day. The hot flashes and headaches are still daily but I believe they have subsided a bit. The pain in my hands and feet seems to be worse, along with stiffness and numbing in my joints. I have my sore fingers and toes crossed that this will pass!

Forming Pink Love has been such an amazing experience. Getting family and friends (new and old) together for such a good cause has brought me light and focus. Continuing to raise more and more money and welcoming new friends to the team has been so rewarding. Gathering together with other survivors on Sunday was a happy-sad feeling. Seeing how many people cancer has touched is terrible. But seeing how many people are willing to take time from their busy lives to kick it to the curb is that much better.

I realize we still have a far way to go. But with people like you we are that much closer.

Each dollar amount, large or small, helps. Thank you so much for supporting me and everyone who has had to face cancer.

Thank you.

Molly

xxo

« Chaque rayon de soleil, chaque goutte de pluie, chaque brise, chaque … est un cadeau. »

MIRABEL, ANNÉE(S) ROSE(S),

Tout doucement, sournoisement, sans faire de bruit, il y a maintenant 11 ans, il est arrivé dans ma vie.  Je ne lui ai pas ouvert les bras ni mon cœur et il a tout pris.  Son côté virulent et son grade avancé ont envahi une partie de moi. Il est bien malgré moi devenu mon compagnon fidèle sur une route sinueuse et durant longtemps ses pas se sont joint aux miens pour avancer.   À cause de lui, je suis tombée à plusieurs reprises, mais grâce à moi, je me suis relevée à chaque fois.  Depuis les toutes dernières chirurgies en Août 2010, ma vie a repris tout son sens et lui a repris une autre route.

J’ai eu le grand privilège d’avoir à mes côtés, un autre compagnon, celui du courage, et c’est avec lui que j’ai continué ma route. Une belle équipe autour de moi s’est formée, celle du positivisme, de la joie de vivre et de l’amour de la vie. Malgré les larmes et les doutes qui se présentaient et qui se présentent encore, mon cœur et mon âme se sont réunis pour continuer ma Mission de vie.  Je suis devenue une C.A.P.T., une combattante à plein temps.

J’ai aussi le grand bonheur d’être entourée d’un homme d’une valeur exceptionnelle qui me donne depuis plusieurs années un amour inconditionnel. Deux fils qui avec leur arrivée dans ma vie m’ont permis de croire que la vie que j’avais donnée m’était remise à chaque jour.  C’est pour moi tout d’abord et ensuite pour eux que je me suis battue. Je les adore un peu plus chaque jour et ils me le rendent bien. Ils ont accepté sans jugement et d’une façon extraordinaire la femme que je suis  devenue. Ils ont aussi surtout accepté le corps meurtri et charcuté de Martine. Aujourd’hui, dans les moments difficiles, mes inquiétudes et  mes doutes,  ils sont là pour me rappeler ma grande victoire. Pour eux, je ne suis pas des seins mais une femme et une mère courageuse et aimante. Ils m’ont surnommé Madame Courage. Ces grands hommes encore aujourd’hui sont pour moi ma raison de vivre pleinement. C’est par vous que je me réalise. Gilles, Joël et Patrick sont mes boucliers, je suis la raison du combat.

Je ne veux pas oublier les amis(es), les vrais(es), ceux du cœur. Sans eux, ma vie de tous les jours serait souvent plus difficile. Encore aujourd’hui par leur présence, je m’enrichis.  À chacun d’eux,  un merci et une reconnaissance constante. Par leur amitié sincère, je grandis à chaque jour car elle me nourrit.

Pour ma famille de sang : ma mère, ma sœur, mes tantes et tous les autres, le cancer du sein nous a fait vivre une tempête qui s’est maintenant calmée mais qui a changé nos vies. Pour vous aussi, je suis heureuse d’être en vie.

Mon histoire du cancer du sein n’est pas unique, pire ou moins grave que celles des autres mais elle est la mienne. Je suis une femme différente, une femme qui se construit à tous les jours.  Chaque rayon de soleil, chaque goutte de pluie, chaque brise, chaque …    est un cadeau.   Un nouveau matin, un nouveau souffle, une nouvelle goutte de sang, un nouveau …me permet d’être VIVANTE. Quand mes regards se font plus lourds sur mon corps, je remercie la vie pour mes yeux qui eux voient tout le reste et ce bien au-delà des apparences.

Mon corps avec toutes ses cicatrices résument l’histoire d’une vie, celle d’une petite fille qui est devenue une femme, une grande femme. C’est ainsi que le cancer du sein pour moi doit être reconnu. Peu importe le temps qui m’est alloué, ma présence sur terre me comble et sera toujours importante à mes yeux.  Je serai là, à boire à la coupe de la vie. Par ma présence au cours de mon existence, si je laisse une petite trace d’espoir en la vie, ce sera mon but, ma raison d’être. Tout ça en aura value la peine.

Pour toutes les victimes de ce fléau, pour leurs familles recevez tout mon amour et la force de mon courage. Vous êtes toutes des championnes. Pour vos familles, ma reconnaissance et mon soutien.  Pour la vie qui m’est permise, un merci infini. La vie est précieuse, la vie est belle, elle vaut tous les détours, elle est inestimable. Au cancer du sein, pour notre combat, peu importe le résultat, tu nous as fait découvrir notre vraie valeur. Tu n’es plus nécessaire dans nos vies et dans celles des autres mais ensemble nous te vaincrons.

C’est avec tout mon amour, que je vous remercie de votre présence dans ma vie, vous êtes là et par la même occasion vous me permettez d’être.

V oyez au-delà de l’Horizon

I nfini doit être notre espoir

E mbellissant la valeur de notre vie.

Je vous aime infiniment, vous faites partie de moi.

Martine Simard Le Bourhis.