Author: Patrick Evans

I was just 15, living a pretty average teenage life. I played sports. I was lucky to have a great group of friends who made everything better, and that became even more apparent with what was about to happen next.

When we got that call from the hospital, my stomach dropped. Even before the doctor got to the point, I was already panicking, wondering what my next few months would look like.  I was told I had been diagnosed with Stage 2 Hodgkin lymphoma, a rare type of blood cancer that primarily affects the lymphatic system.

I knew I wasn’t doing this alone…

Hearing the word “cancer” out loud felt unreal.  I didn’t know if I was going to be okay, how serious it was, or how my life would change. On top of this, it was May, a month before school ended and my friends and I had plans for parties, camping, bike rides, and staying out late.  It was supposed to be the best summer ever. Instead, it felt like it was about to be the worst.

After that, things moved very quickly. I was going to the hospital almost every day. The first month was brutal. I was tired and didn’t even feel like myself anymore. Thankfully, there was one thing that kept me going.

My birthday was coming up. My hair had already started falling out, and it was stressing me out more than I thought it would.  I decided to take control and buzz it off, but what happened next changed everything.

A few of my friends showed up to surprise me for my birthday.  That alone made my day. But then they all took off their hats—and every one of them had shaved their heads too. I was speechless. It brought me to tears because for the first time in a while, I felt genuinely happy.

From that day on, something changed in me. My spirit and sense of hope were higher than ever. I still had tough days, but I had this new kind of energy in me. I knew I wasn’t doing this alone, and that made all the difference.

During treatment, my friends helped bring back some much-needed normality to my life.   There were even nights when I forgot I was sick. Those moments were everything to me. When I think back on that summer, yeah, I remember the chemo, the needles, and the exhaustion, but more than that, I remember those nights with my friends. That’s what I believe helped me get through it all.

Looking back now, I don’t just see cancer. I see my friends stepping up in a way I’ll never forget. I see a version of myself who kept showing up every day, even when it was hard. I see how love and loyalty can help you through the darkest times. What I went through changed me. But it also showed me just how powerful friendship can be.

 And honestly, I think that’s what saved me.

Author: Glenda Gilbert

My name is Glennda Gilbert, and I am a three-time cancer warrior! My cancer journey began when I was diagnosed with osteogenic sarcoma at 13. I now live with metal from my hip to my knee in my right leg.

Much later, doctors discovered I have a rare genetic mutation called MUTYH, which increases my risk of certain cancers. In my 30s, I was diagnosed with schwannoma, and later, clear cell carcinoma.

Nothing has healed my broken spirit the way my ink has

After recovering from those cancers and treatment, moving forward required not just medical monitoring, but internal healing, too. I’ve done both yearly tests and counselling for PTSD. Defying all odds has left scars which I’ve learned to live with. One way I have found helpful for my healing is my tattoos.

I didn’t start getting tattoos until my mid- to late-thirties. I was never someone who wore dresses or makeup, and never really felt like I belonged. My tattoos have given me a path to closure, healing, and helped me figure out who I am. They have helped me add colour to a dark world. They are a way of talking without talking, they are my amour and my storybook on my skin.

My tattoos show my story of lost loved ones, pride in progress and beauty in the darkness I never thought would pass. These are my favourites:

1. Zombie on my back (not pictured) represents my experience with both hospital food and chemo.
2. Crests on my chest for each of my parents, who did their best to help me through my first battle. (My other two cancer battles I kept to myself as my family had faced enough.)
3. Alice in Wonderland on my leg. This was my favourite childhood story. Sometimes we need to escape reality, even if for a short time.
4. Firecracker on my arm. This speaks for itself!
5. The lantern on my neck shows the light in the darkness of the storm. I’ve been walking in a storm my whole life, but in any storm, light can break through.

Nothing has healed my broken spirit the way my ink has. It has made me feel brave, beautiful and powerful. This is my story, worn for all to see. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.

STAY WARRIOR STRONG!

*Glennda has worked with London, Ontario, tattoo artist Dave Schultz since the beginning of her journey. She has also come in top 10 and top 2 in her category for Inked Magazine’s contest for the past two years.

Author: Varun Sayal
Age of diagnosis: 17
Diagnosis: Ependymoma. Fortunately, it was benign. Most of the tumour was removed surgically, and the rest through radiation therapy.

Photography has not only become a creative outlet, but it has also served as my reminder to continue exploring. To continue pushing myself to my limits. To keep learning. But of course, reality kicks in, and health issues can challenge my ability to stay consistent. If there is one thing I have learned, as a photographer and through this whole journey, it is to make the best of whatever is in front of me.

Whether I am standing around and photographing a beautiful sunset sky with little to no effort or sitting down and placing the camera on my foot to get a better image of Lake Louise, this “playing the cards you have been dealt” approach certainly applies to my art.

Author: Jason Truong

It started out as a lighthearted December night. A short break to relax before I prepared for another day of school. On my laptop was an old video game that me and my sister were playing. Then the phone rang. The call from my doctor was devastating.

“Throughout my life video games have helped me when times were rough…“

In the dead of the night, my dad and I were on our way, stepping through puddles of rain in a dark alley. I went from place to place, and after trials and tribulations, I ended up in the emergency room at the Children’s Hospital in London, Ontario, hooked up to an IV and watching old cartoons on Nickelodeon. I cannot clearly recall the series of events—it was as if I was in a daze the whole night. In the end, I was diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia (CML), a relatively rare cancer in children. I was 14 years old.

The first days of my hospital stay were without rest. However, this all changed when a support program at the hospital called Youth CoRE gave me the opportunity to play Nintendo Switch games with an opponent. With this, my days seemed brighter and flew by.

After returning home from 10 days in hospital, I went back to my daily routine of online school. I fondly remember finishing my homework as soon as I could to boot up my laptop, and diving into an exciting game. The shining highlight of my first and second years of high school was the immersive experience of those games, worlds vibrant and inexhaustibly explorable far and wide, together with unique storytelling, music and art direction.

As time went on, online classes became harder to bear. One day, I just couldn’t see the point anymore. For my 11^th year, I returned to in-person learning. My first day back at school was disheartening. I knew nobody. I felt like I didn’t even know myself. I lost sleep and I noticed I was rarely playing video games, if at all.

Eventually, I tried to make time to start playing again. My first title was NieR:Automata, which I had been anticipating for many years. This game’s narrative explores philosophical themes within a narrow context: the search for the meaning of existence, the reason to keep on fighting, and the subject of identity loss, all amidst a war and chaos. It resonated with me deeply. Rediscovering my passion for video games allowed me to reconnect and have fun with my friends, even as all of us got busier.

Throughout my life video games have helped me when times were rough; not only by playing them, but I have also been creating my own since the age of nine. Inspired by the dedication of game developers to their work, I have always thought, “I could be like them someday.”

After finishing a computer programming course in my final year of high school, I decided to take it on as my chosen field of study. In fall 2024, I am bound to start Computer Programming at St. Clair College to help widen my range of programming knowledge. For those who may be living through tough times, I want to inspire them to create, like many games and developers have inspired me.

Bio: Jason Truong is an 18-year-old CML survivor, still undergoing treatment. Here is a game that he created, inspired by Mario. Jason is also interested in sci-fi, anime and wildlife, including sharks and gentoo penguins.

• Castle Crashers
• Chocobo Racing
• Dragon Quest 11
• Final Fantasy XIII
• Muse Dash
• NieR:Automata
• Pokémon Black and White
• Resident Evil 4
• Scribblenauts
• Undertale
• Yakuza 0
• Yakuza Kiwami (much less explicit, equally violent as first)
  

Author: Cassandra Watson

Living with a chronic condition can feel like riding a never-ending roller coaster—minus the fun parts, of course. My journey started with a spinal tumour diagnosis in 2009 (myxopapillary ependymoma, if you are into those fancy medical terms) which led to several surgeries and radiation therapy. Unfortunately, I ended up with chronic pain to manage, but I have to say these treatments made a significant difference. While this experience wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, it motivated me to advocate for others facing similar challenges, especially around fertility preservation. I’ll dive into that part soon!

Photo above: Left: Cassandra after first spinal surgery. Right: Cassandra now.

“Could my past medical experiences have an impact on my ability to have biological children in the future?”

Transitioning from pediatric to adult care has been quite a journey, and it is still challenging at times. I went from having a dedicated team supporting me in every aspect of my life to feeling like I was navigating my health on my own. I was familiar with Princess Margaret Cancer Centre from my radiation treatment, but the whole experience was pretty overwhelming. I made sure to ask my POGO Aftercare Clinic Nurse lots of questions, everything from learning how to check for lumps in my breasts? to understanding the potential impact of my past treatments on my body. One particularly important question I had was about my fertility: Could my past medical experiences have an impact on my ability to have biological children in the future?

That single question changed my life.

“The emotional toll is substantial, especially since, despite all my efforts, there is no guarantee of success.”

Left photo: The daily medication injections for egg-freezing process     

I learned that my AMH (anti-müllerian hormone) levels were low, indicating a low egg count, which led me to Mount Sinai Hospital’s fertility clinic. At 22 years old, the news that I didn’t have much time was a shock. I had to weigh my options: have a child soon, freeze my eggs, or consider alternatives like egg donation or adoption. In the end, I chose egg freezing, which significantly shifted my life plans. The treatments were tough and the costs made things even more complicated. The emotional toll is substantial, especially since, despite all my efforts, there is no guarantee of success.

My radiation treatment affected my fertility, which is a topic that doesn’t always get the attention it deserves. While fertility preservation is starting to come up more frequently in discussions with younger patients, it wasn’t something that was brought up in my discussions with my health team. I feel this gap in communication and resources is an important issue that deserves more attention.

Navigating my fertility journey has been quite an eye-opening experience. It is understandable that when you’re focused on managing an illness, fertility can sometimes take a back seat. But for many, the ability to have children is a big deal. It can be frustrating to miss out on preservation opportunities simply because of a lack of information. It feels a lot like missing the boat. And who wants to miss the boat?

These experiences have inspired me to become a voice for others in similar situations. Advocacy goes beyond just pushing for medical advancements; it is also about making sure patients have the information and support they need to make informed choices about their futures. By sharing my story at events like the 2024 POGO AfterCare Education Day and through this article, I hope to encourage others to ask the right questions, seek the information they need and stand up for their own needs. If there is one lesson I have taken away, it is that you sometimes must be your own best advocate.

Recognizing that my experiences can help others has truly changed how I view my health challenges, seeing them not just as a burden, but as opportunities to make a positive impact in the community. Through advocacy, I aim to bridge the gaps in care and ensure that the next generation of patients has access to comprehensive support, particularly when it comes to fertility awareness. As I continue on this advocacy journey, I am genuinely excited to see what the future holds. My journey has shown me that while medical treatments are crucial, so is the support for the emotional and future aspects of life, like fertility. As health care continues to advance, let’s make sure to include these important conversations, making sure every child has the chance to lead a fulfilling life, both during and after treatment.