Are you back? No I am forward.

Cancer is a funny thing, not funny ha-ha, but funny in the sense that we live in a world where it is common, but yet unknown. It's a thing people fear but it is inevitable that someone we know is going to get it. It is messy, complex, weird - physically, and emotionally, and for all these reasons we want our cancer person to be "back to normal". But unfortunately, folks, there is no going back, the only place we can go is forward.

As I write this, I want to warn you I feel reading it might be a bit of a ride, an emotional roller coaster, because that is what the last month or so has felt like for me. In some ways I was prepared, I had been warned that once I had done my core hospital treatments there would be a sense of urgency from people around me to want life to go "back to normal". For them it was time to put a neat bow on my breast cancer journey and move onto the next thing. I had, after all, checked all of the big boxes- chemotherapy, done, surgery, done, radiation, done, ding-dong, the bell is rung, and life is ready to go on. This comes from a place of love and support, they (you) want me to be back to my old self, for this horrific disease and the battle that goes with it to be over. But it's not and in fact I feel like I have hit the hardest part of it all. A piece that feels silent, alone, and unknown.

To set the scene we do have to go back to almost one year ago. Yes, that is right, a year ago, hard to believe because for me in so many ways it feels like a minute. I am not sure if that’s a coping mechanism, but there are days it feels like just last week I was stepping into my doctor’s office. I told you I was going to set the scene so let’s do just that.

In October of 2022 I had been dancing hard, my friend Karen had kindly volunteered me in the spring to take part in Dancing With the Stars to benefit Easter Seals. It was perfect, as I was turning forty and overseeing an events centre every day the last thing I wanted to do was plan a party. It was also perfect as, despite what many who know me may think, I don't actually like being the centre of attention unless it has a cause of purpose attached to it. That's right, my wedding day was daunting to me as Joel and I were the focus, with no charitable ask, no cause to champion, no employment purpose. I love to put my skills to work for all those things, but me in the spotlight for me, like a birthday, yuck!

The event went well, hours of practice meant a salsa and cha-cha went off without a hitch. Now when I say without a hitch, there were so many mistakes, but the energy was great, I didn't hurt my decade long dance instructor and friend Nico, and we raised lots of cash for incredible youth to head to an accessible camp. But as the lights dimmed, and the days passed, my "dancing soreness" stayed. I know that recovery at 40 isn't the same as 30 but something wasn't right.

After almost 20 years as my family doctor, Nancy certainly takes my calls seriously, because in the sum of those years there haven’t been many. Fast forward to ultrasounds and mammograms, and then this little thing called Pocket Health. For those of you who have never had imaging done at a hospital, or it's been sometime, no longer do you get CDs of your internal organs! A few clicks and any imagery from a registered location is dropped to you electronically, with a wonderful warning I may add that paraphrased reads, "don't assume anything & make sure a professional interprets these for you". I feel it should also add, "and for god’s sake don't google it!"

It was Dec 23rd, my doctor’s office had called me asking me to join them later that day. Ever the optimist I was thinking this was my doctor wrapping things up before the holidays because, who wants to leave a person hanging, worrying, not cool! I was planning to go alone, Joel was home with Izzy, that much I remember, when ping, Pocket Health notified me of a new report. Reading it through I knew what it meant, at least the 'sometime in a past life hoping to be a pediatric physiotherapist who wanted to specialize in neurology' part of me gave me enough knowledge to be potentially dangerous. I called Joel and

suggested he come with me, asking our amazing neighbours Lorna and Pete to have Izzy for an hour (which they did willingly).

48 hours before Christmas and my gift was a cancer diagnosis. Nancy knows that simply put, I am a no- shit individual. I confessed I had read the report and as always, she graciously walked me through it, answering to the best of her ability the questions I had. Now for most people this would be the stage of ambiguity, no man’s land, as technically we needed the next step, a biopsy, to confirm that this was ACTUALLY cancer. However, as I have shared before, the mass was very large, from this report they estimated about 10 centimetres (later to be found larger), and for me specifically that was a 1 in a number that I can't even count chance it wasn't cancer. Joel is my optimist. I just remember him saying "so there is a chance it is not cancer?" and Nancy softly smiling but I don't remember her replying.

Very few tears were cried, and in all honesty, very few have been cried to this day (we will get to that) but opening Lorna's door to Izzy was heartbreaking. If I needed a reason to kick this, to do all the hard things, it was standing there, all 3 feet of blonde piss and vinegar. As I write this I also must add "it's gold mommy not blonde". I remember Lorna holding me for a minute, slightly awkward because she grew to her awesomeness far quicker than I did and there is a solid 7" I think in height difference between us. In some ways I felt guilty putting this unexpected burden of knowledge on them, guilty that they knew before Mom and Dad, but knowing they were a safe space and that day everything had happened the way it had

for a reason. I needed to believe there was a reason. I still need to believe there is a reason.

Life kicked into high gear and many things happened after that, some I have written about and will let you go back to those early blogs, some I will revisit in coming months when the time is right, but there it was I had cancer. Joel and I went away on vacation less than 24 hours after seeing the surgeon and getting permission to travel. Her kind words, "go, be, enjoy, eat the things, drink the drinks, spend quality time together," it was calm before the storm, the ability to tell people we needed to tell, to plan to the best of our ability.

The unspoken reality- is this the last trip we will take?

It wasn't the last trip; in fact I am writing this on the plane as we return from a week in Mexico. We booked it to take some quality time together, a date that didn't involve an oncologist. It's been a weird trip.

Since completing radiation, I have been doing my best to adapt to the new normal. I have 4 drugs that I must continue to take, two for 2-3 years and the others for about 10. Basically, my cancer was aggressive, and this regime is to do all that we can medically to prevent it from coming back. The last drug I started is given to those who have early-stage cancer or aggressive cancer like mine. Yes, that’s right, it was aggressive. You may have pieced that together from my treatment, but to actually write this feels so odd. A strange emotional battle between the truth and realization, not wanting to worry folks, and feeling like it's an exaggeration, after all lots of people have it far worse than I do.

I have shared before but will share again the combined day to day side effects of these drugs- at least the ones I am aware of daily are- joint and muscle pain, fatigue, sporadic diarrhea, being susceptible to infection, and the lingering chemo brain.

In my mind as I ring the bell and people congratulate me it has been a mental battle with the thought, "ok Katie it is time to get back to the real world. No more feeling sorry for yourself, it's just a few drugs,people do far worse than this every day, and they work, and they parent, and they volunteer." I also knew that heading BACK to work I needed to be in the best possible emotional space, important not to get mad over a crinkled tablecloth or Christmas tree when I was simply still mad about cancer.

I thought that tackling this would take a little bit of time, and some targeted exercise. The first intuition, the second the findings of a research study specifically related to the drug Letrozole. So where to find that support?

I am going to be very transparent here, share something that for years has haunted me. The two times in my life I have worked with a trainer it hasn't been great. I physically made huge gains, but what both times had in common is that the trainers took all the credit for my hard work. Basically, alluding to the fact I couldn't and wouldn't be successful without them. It sounds so small but has festered, and in my current recovery state it was going to take someone very special to help me. Enter Aimee...

Now there have been lots of people who have supported me in my journey on a very personal level. Some would hate it if I mentioned them, some I will get to when the time is right, but with Aimee’s permission I am sharing.

Once upon a time I had an incredible English Professor Mr. Moorehouse. A trained actor, he was a gift to watch and listen to. He guided me, and advised me, taught me, and supported me, I wish he could read this right now. At the tender age of 16ish while analyzing some literary great we were exploring themes in a book, he said "once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three time enemy action" meaning if you run into something more than three times there is a purpose, a theme. I probably have lived quite literally by this advice at a level he would have never expected, but hey ho it works for me. This was Aimee. Speaking with Amanda- osteo extraordinaire- I needed a person I trusted to make a recommendation to help me. Aimee. A slow Facebook scroll my other Amy was doing Aimee's challenge.

Ok, and then- what, we have been Facebook friends for 3 years... no way. Three times enemy action Mr. M, we are reaching out.

There are no words that can really articulate what Aimee has brought to my life. A list would include hope,compassion, fun, positivity, reality, energy, support. Beyond helping me physically gain back some of my strength, she is also teaching me to be kind to myself, to listen to my body, to work with my body- we are after all, one. On a particularly painful day, emotionally and physically, she reminded me I am not trying to go back to who I was, it's time for me to shape who I am going to be. I knew she didn't mean curvy bum and perky boobs when she said this either! BANG- this hit me like a ton of bricks.

Everyone- myself most of all- wants me to go back. Back to work, back to being me, back to my old look, back to having hair, back to being 20lbs lighter, back to having boobs, back to walking in heels, back to being the doer, back to having the ideas, back to bringing the energy, back to cooking, back to raising the money, back to caring, back to being cancer free.

Whether it's a real expectation, or something I have created in my own mind there is pressure. MASSIVE pressure. An exhausting, gut wrenching, tear jerking, scary as F pressure, to be what I was. I spoke to my dear friend Jen about this  (Check out Jen's Blog https://jenchristie.substack.com/), after a particularly hard day scrolling through social media, and in particular LinkedIn. I was jealous, frustrated, sad, and about every emotion in between. I can only liken it to being away from work on mat leave, the difference being on mat leave I had the amazing Izzy... and I was only gone for 7 months. It was like the world was moving on quickly as I stood still. Was held still.

Was shackled by cancer.

Neither of us had the answer, just the same problem. Our unconventional route, some our choice some not, didn't fit the norm, the mold, and despite being two women who liked breaking molds, this was different, how would we find our fit.

Aimee's business is Living2beAwesome (https://living2bawesome.com/), look closely at the phoenix rising from the ashes. That's where I am, rising, different, but what does that mean for me? What does that look like?

On one hand I am balancing guilt, wanting to go back, feeling like I have taken too long. While the insurance company and oncologist are shaking their heads and cautioning the pace of my return. I am trying to find the new me writing children’s books, and the old me raising money for Izzy's school through silent auctions and selling donuts. Nothing feels right.

I said that being away this week on vacation felt weird. How selfish, that I couldn't find peace in paradise with the man I love more than the world. I was pining for home, for Izzy, Miah, and Hugo Willis. I was feeling guilty leaving them with mom. I felt lost when my people had the shittiest week and I couldn't help, reminding myself that I need to be strong and healthy to help others. I was mad that I had to hide from the sun (thank you radiation) and found humour that I would have diarrhea no matter what so nothing was off the menu! I wanted to cry barely recognizing myself in a video Joel took of me dancing. Through all this what I did find was the strength to write this, to reflect.

Reflecting is hard, but maybe this is exactly where I need to be. Chemo was hard, but more visible and logical- they fill you with nasty drugs you feel crappy- an easier equation to balance. Maybe I shouldn't feel any different to the way I feel right now, that search for answers is simply- Ok. Finding some renewed strength but not all because I must undergo reconstruction surgery in April, a story yet to be shared in detail.

As I round out this rambling piece, I hope you have felt a little turbulent reading. It was intentional as I feel a little turbulent writing (and not just because I am at 37,000 feet). I would say to anyone out there feeling some pressure to get BACK to something, take a minute and let yourself grow forward into something in its place.

One last thing-

In celebration of my one-year Cancer anniversary I have two asks!

Let's say one is for cancer and one is for Christmas.

The books I wrote capturing the essence of Dottie the Basset Hound, and our very own Hugo Willis are for sale, with all the net proceeds supporting outdoor play equipment at Izzy's School. I have about 25 sets left and it's a Christmas wish for me to write the cheque to the school early in the new year. Please consider buying a set for $35, or buying a set to gift to someone else (if you don't have anyone, we have lots of amazing youth in our community who would appreciate having a set in their school!).

They can be purchased via this link https://giddy-childrens-books.square.site/ or etransfer to katie.cheesmond@gmail.com.

The second ask is bigger, scarier for me (because as I wrote, doing things for others is easier than for myself). I would love the opportunity to speak and share my story and the learnings from it with others. Customized to the audience, I would like my journey to be of benefit to others...there is a dream that one day this might be a retirement plan, but for now I am looking for a handful of audiences to practice my craft.

Thank you all for reading and supporting this wild ride.