“I realize that by bringing my art form into people’s lives, I can turn a house into a home. That’s huge. Having a beautiful home is one of life’s big dreams. To be part of someone’s dream through design is amazing.”–Kelly Hogarth
As a child, Kelly Hogarth spent most of her free time drawing and reading. She remembers being more fragile and sickly than her classmates, so these quieter activities were perfect for her.
“I was always getting a cold or the flu,” Kelly says. “In the winter, I had to spend recess and lunchtime inside, while the other kids were playing outside. That was alright, I could draw or read. I was okay with that. I understood why I had to stay inside.”
Kelly knew that a weakened immune system was one of many side effects that could come from 28 rounds of chemotherapy, which she received as a child for Ewing’s sarcoma. A rare cancer that forms in the bone or soft tissue, Ewing’s sarcoma normally appears in teenage boys. Discovering the cancer in a five-year girl was surprising for everyone.
“My mom was on a business trip and my dad and I were visiting my grandma,” says Kelly. “I was playing on her kitchen floor, when grandma noticed that my jaw looked swollen. At first they just assumed I had the mumps.”
Because the tumour was growing in Kelly’s jawbone, there was a severe risk that the cancer would spread to her brain, which is why her treatment called for 14 rounds of chemotherapy both before and after a 16-hour surgery to remove the cancerous bone. During surgery, the doctor took the fibula from Kelly’s right calf, broke it and re-fashioned it into a jawbone, which is secured by screws and bolts.
Kelly bears the scars of her battle to this day. She still has no bottom teeth on that side of her mouth and she recently underwent advanced surgery to build up her jawline.
“Cancer really shaped who I am today,” says Kelly. “I’ve always been hugely into art—sculpting, drawing, painting—whatever the medium, I loved it.”
She means this quite literally and figuratively.
It was during the many inside-times that young Kelly honed her skills as an artist. In grade 11, she realized that career in art may not be feasible, so she began exploring other avenues to express herself while making a living. That’s when Kelly decided to pursue a career in interior design.
Thanks to you, Kelly is now studying interior design at Lethbridge College with the help of a Kids Cancer Care Derek Wandzura Memorial Scholarship. With your help, Kelly was able off-set some of the significant expenses related to studying interior design.
“That $2,500 went straight to my text books and art supplies,” says Kelly. “I still have all my text books and I’ll always cherish them and refer to them in the future.”
But the scholarship represents more than a monetary award for Kelly. “It wasn’t until I started filling out my scholarship forms that I got my first true taste and rush of excitement for my college experience,” says Kelly. “This scholarship is far more than a dollar amount inscribed on an incredibly crafted sheet of paper. It is my excitement, a smile, a butterfly ready to break free from my stomach. It is a physical piece of my future.”
As Kelly prepares to enter her second year of college, she is starting to narrow her career focus. She knows she wants to work in residential, rather than industrial or commercial, design. The prospect of staging show homes or residential homes for sale is appealing, but so too is the idea of creating beautiful living spaces for her clients. In reality, Kelly thinks she’ll probably open a design firm specializing in several streams at once.
Whatever Kelly does, it will be new and it will be fresh. Quintessentially Kelly. “We’re always pushing boundaries in design school,” she says. “And really, there are no boundaries until you push beyond them. You create new boundaries by defying the old.”
When Gillian’s cancer continued to spread, even while on chemo, and she learned there was nothing more the doctors could do, she told her parents there were three things she wanted to do before dying.
It was March 2014 and Gillian had only weeks, maybe months, to live and her bucket list looked like this:
1. Get a tattoo;
2. Take a Wish Trip to Greece with her family; and
3. Get married.
Gillian has managed to reach her goals, but one.
1. In June, Gillian and her family took that trip to Greece. Check.
2. A couple of weeks later, she married her boyfriend Michael, just one week after graduating high school. Check.
Two days after the wedding, Gillian and Michael were on their honeymoon in Disneyland—both families in tow. And, in July, Gillian travelled to Mexico on a 10-day mission trip with her youth group. While most teens idled away the hot summer days, Gillian was living an entire lifetime. But she still hasn’t got that tattoo.
Ironically, achieving the most ordinary of goals would present the biggest challenge for Gillian. The tattoo she has in mind is an elaborate image of a tree with branches spreading over her back. The tattoo artist explained that the project would take several weeks to complete with lots of time in between for healing. With her compromised immune system and limited timeframe, Gillian simply didn’t have the time or the capability to heal properly between sessions.
Gillian has already lived a lot longer than doctors expected. If she had known in March that she would live into the fall, Gillian surely would’ve added a fourth goal to her bucket list:
4. Study art at the Alberta College of Art and Design.
“In the past, I’ve always shied away from the thought of doing art professionally because I was afraid it would turn my joy and passion for art into something routine or heartless,” Gillian explains. “Cancer helped to focus my thinking on this. I know now that creating art is what I want to do with the rest of my life, so I’ve enrolled at ACAD for the fall.”
With your help, Gillian is pursuing her dream of being an artist. In late August, Kids Cancer Care held a special scholarship ceremony for Gillian and her family, awarding her with a Kids Cancer Care Derek Wandzura Memorial Scholarship for studies at ACAD this fall. Check.
Gillian is not only a gifted artist; she is a brilliant dancer. She and her sisters, Colleen and Kimberly, have danced competitively for years. Ballet, point, tap, modern, hip-hop and jazz.
As a high-level dancer Gillian, is familiar with pain. But in May 2013, when the pain in her right leg persisted for two months straight, she saw a doctor. The doctor told her it was likely a muscle strain and asked her to stop dancing for a week.
It was competition time, so Gillian loaded up on painkillers and avoided seeing doctors until after the competition.
After the competition, Gillian saw a physiotherapist who knew just by feeling the leg that something was very wrong. A series of X-rays revealed a large mass in Gillian’s right femur.
The next day, Gillian was diagnosed with a bone cancer that had already spread to her lungs. They administered chemotherapy, followed by two surgeries, in which they removed a 26-centimetre tumour from her right femur and two smaller tumours from her lungs. In a third surgery, they replaced her right leg with a metal prosthetic, which has presented a whole new set of challenges for Gillian.
“I set off all the alarms in airport security now,” she laughs. “I’m a real menace.”
“She’s like the bionic woman,” her mother Wendy adds.
Like the bionic woman, Gillian has had to relearn to walk—this time with her bionic leg. With your gifts, Gillian has been rebuilding her strength through regular physiotherapy sessions at PEER (Pediatric Patients Engaging in Exercise for Recovery), a collaborative initiative between Kids Cancer Care, Alberta Health Services and the University of Calgary, Faculty of Kinesiology.
Most crushing of all for Gillian, however; was being told she would never dance again.
Gillian’s cancer has been tough on her younger sisters. Colleen felt a lot of guilt for being so strong and healthy, while her sister was battling cancer. “Gillian is prettier, smarter and more talented than me. Why did she get cancer and not me?” Colleen asked. At one point, her sister Kimberly started questioning whether she should even be dancing at all, while Gillian was so sick.
Gillian was adamant: “You have to,” she said. “You have to dance—for me.”
It was then that her sisters’ dancing took off. As Kimberly’s dancing took on a beautifully poetic expression that hadn’t previously been there, Colleen’s dancing, which had always been brilliantly expressive, became technically strong.
Although it has been incredibly trying, cancer has not stopped the O’Blenes in the least. “As a whole, we’re closer,” says Wendy. “I’m not sure we’ll ever fully weather what’s happened, but our goal as a family has always been to plow through and move on and live life. We’ve chosen to maintain our active life and our busy schedules, but Gillian has been our inspiration through all of it.”
Indeed, Gillian has become her own inspiration, refocusing her creative energy from dancing into visual arts. She’s determined to live life fully for as long as she can.
In the fall of 2014, Gillian completed a semester at ACAD and received straight A's. On Monday, December 8, 2014 Gillian passed away surrounded by family and friends at the age of 18.
“I worked by lamplight at night in our room at Ronald McDonald House, so Angelo could sleep, while I studied. It was tough, seeing him go through that, while also focusing on school, but we did it.” — Chelsie Shade
She may be only 19, but Chelsie Shade already exhibits a maturity and tenacity far beyond her years. She’s been through cancer twice — her own and now her son’s — and, with your help, she’s moving beyond her cancer experiences and following her dream of becoming a pediatric nurse.
When Chelsie was 17 months old, she was diagnosed with bilateral retinoblastoma, a rare but highly aggressive and hereditary eye cancer. Within hours of diagnosis, she and her parents were transferred to the Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto, where Chelsie received emergency surgery to remove the left eye and save her life.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
For years, Chelsie and her parents travelled to and from Toronto every few weeks, so she could access the specialized treatments and technology necessary to treat and monitor her good eye. The emotional and financial toll on the family was enormous.
When Chelsie was finally deemed cancer-free, she learned that she would have to continue making that same trip every few weeks for years to come. This time, Chelsie was the mother and her nine-day-old baby boy was in need of the specialized treatment and follow up available in Toronto.
Growing up partially blind and with a prosthetic eye, Chelsie was determined to spare her son this fate. She fought hard with the doctors to save Angelo’s eye. But the threat of losing Angelo or his eyes is never far away.
Despite travelling to Toronto every few weeks for Angelo’s treatments and monitoring, the single mother from the Bloodtribe of Southern Alberta, managed to stay in school and graduate from high school.
“We’ve survived two years of stress and hardship with my Angelo’s cancer,” says Chelsie. “I took a year off school in 2011 to be in Toronto for his cancer treatments, but I enrolled in online schooling and managed to finish three courses that year.”
Thanks to you, Chelsie is now attending the University of Lethbridge, where she is working toward a degree in nursing with the help of a $2,500 bursary from the Kids Cancer Care Derek Wandzura Memorial Scholarship program.
“I’m planning to pursue a career in pediatric nursing, possibly in oncology, as I have survived my own cancer and now my son’s. I want to help children like Angelo."
They were looking for a better life for their son when they moved to Canada—the land of ice hockey and subzero temperatures. They didn’t know the move would ultimately save his life and shape the path of his career.
Although he was only eight, Chaitanya remembers clearly the night he and his parents, Biren and Sohal Shah, arrived in Canada. “It was 30 degrees Celsius in Mumbai when we left and -30 in Calgary when we landed.”
Culture shock had nothing on the shock of that subzero weather. And yet, nothing would ever trump the shock of what was to come.
At the end of his grade-eight basketball season Chaitanya was coughing a lot and thought he may have a cold. A chest scan revealed masses in his chest, which the doctor thought may be pneumonia. But when a team of doctors descended upon the Shahs to discuss the results of the scan, Chaitanya knew it was something serious. He remembers thinking, “Why do they need a whole team for this?”
His instincts were right. It was stage 4 germ cell cancer, a highly aggressive cancer that demanded a lengthy and complex treatment protocol.
That night and the intense year that followed would determine the course of his life. Chaitanya is passionate about genetics and cancer and he is determined to be an oncologist one day. “I’m perfect for the position,” he jokes, “given my vast exposure to the profession.”
Even at 13, Chaitanya was thinking the way a doctor might. “There were multiple tumours all through my body,” he says. “There are many types of germ cell cancer but it was so advanced when we caught it that I had them all. I kept thinking ‘Did I miss something? Could I have caught this earlier?’”
A second-year biological sciences student at the University of Calgary, Chaitanya has found an outlet for his passion and his inquisitive mind. With the help of a scholarship, made possible by you, Chaitanya is enroute to becoming an oncologist.
But, as intensely as he wants this, his experience with cancer has taught him to take things in stride. “It’s given me a ferocious tenacity to go after what I want, but mostly it’s given me perspective. As stressful as it gets during exams, in the back of my mind, I go, ‘At least I don’t have cancer.’”
And the wry sense of humour? That’s quintessential Chaitanya—a quality that helped him during his cancer journey and that will one day serve him as an oncologist as he helps others facing cancer.
“My hands started to blister and I couldn’t even play my guitar, the thing I love most in the world.”—David Dallas
When Ringo Starr cried out, “I’ve got blisters on my fingers,” at the end of the Helter Skelter recording on the Beatle’s white album, his blisters were for entirely different reasons than David Dallas’ blisters. Apparently, Ringo played the drums so forcefully on this track, the only way out of the session, which had become an epic jam session, was to yell out in protest to his band mates.
If protesting against blisters had been a viable option for David, he surely would have protested, if only so he could play guitar again. But David’s blisters weren’t from playing a musical instrument for too long. His blisters were one of the side effects of the chemotherapy he was receiving to save his life.
David was diagnosed with stage 3 non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma when he was 12 years old. It started with severe stomach pain that wouldn’t go away. After several visits to the Alberta Children’s Hospital emergency centre, David received an ultrasound that revealed an 18-centimetre tumour. Over the next four months, David underwent intensive cancer treatment, which included chemotherapy by spinal tap to both his spine and brain.
What kept David going during this time was the support of his family and friends, the amazing nurses at the Alberta Children’s Hospital and, of course, his music. Isolated at the hospital and unable to play guitar, David’s only thought was the moment he would play again.
On the horizon for David was the fulfillment of a wish through the Children’s Wish Foundation. Unlike most kids, however, David’s wish wasn’t a trip to Disneyland. David had asked for music equipment and a Les Paul guitar, his Sadie, the guitar he still uses today.
And David is still holding on to that dream of making music, a dream that you are helping him realize through a Kids Cancer Care Derek Wandzura Memorial Scholarship.
When David auditioned for the jazz guitar program at the Mount Royal University Conservatory of Music, it was Sadie who saw him through the audition. Unfortunately, for David, the jazz program at Mount Royal was later cancelled due to funding constraints, so David used the scholarship to complete his first year of general studies to prepare for future studies in jazz music.
“The one thing I learned during my cancer experience was to not sweat the small stuff and to keep my eye on the big picture,” says David.
Like the 12-year-old boy, biding his time at the hospital, David is maintaining perspective, while waiting for a chance to formally study music and hone his skills as a jazz musician. He’s waiting for admission to the Berkley School of Music in Boston. Once again, it was Sadie who saw him through his audition at Berkley and, once again, when he is accepted, it will be Sadie he takes to Boston.
When Jasinder Gill was suddenly too weak to walk to class or play sports in his senior year, he didn’t tell anyone. He kept it to himself, until one evening, when the telephone rang.
Jasinder (Jason) vividly remembers the night he learned he had leukemia.
June 20th 2008: Jason was quietly studying for a physics exam. The telephone rang and his mother answered, but “with her limited English, she couldn’t understand,” says Jason, “so she passed the receiver to me.”
Jason picked up and a doctor from the lab, where he’d recently had blood work done, warned Jason he was about to give him difficult news. “He told me I had leukemia,” recalls Jason. “My hemoglobin count was extremely low, 47, and he told me I should get to the hospital immediately.”
But Jason didn’t do that. Not exactly.
The third son of hardworking immigrants from India, Jason was used to being strong and independent. Always inquisitive and resourceful, it was natural for him to research leukemia online before leaving for the hospital. A first-generation Canadian, Jason knew there would be no parental buffers between himself and the doctors at the hospital. “I felt it was crucial I understand leukemia, so I could understand what the oncologists were saying.”
A third-year biological sciences student at the University of Calgary, Jason is now putting his naturally inquisitive mind and research skills to work. With the help of a scholarship from Kids Cancer Care, he’s following his lifelong dream of becoming an orthodontist.
“Knowing that someone is looking at you and saying, ‘We’re going to invest in you because we believe you can do something with your life,’ that is meaningful,” says Jason.
Like his older brothers Sunny and Jasdeep, who are studying medicine at the University of Alberta, Jason plans to study dentistry at U of A—one day making him the third son of Atma and Charanjit Gill to become a doctor.
“Eva and I used to lay side by side, getting chemo together. We talked about going to university together and changing the world some day and now she was dying. I promised her: ‘I will keep fighting for you Eva. I don’t know how I will do it, but I will.’” – Amandha Richter
Eva passed away in December, 2001 at the age of 15. She wasn’t the only friend Amandha would lose to cancer, but she was the friend who would forever change the course of her life.
Amandha recalls the first time meeting Eva. They were both at the hospital, waiting to receive treatment. Amandha had just been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma and Eva was battling a brain tumour.
Eva kept looking at Amandha and Amandha kept trying to avert her eyes. Amandha was 17 and angry, struggling to make sense of the disparate worlds of cancer and life as a teenager. Finally, with great difficulty, Eva got up, walked over and stood directly in front of Amandha. When Eva asked Amandha how she was, Amandha finally asked her how she was.
“Well, I can walk today, so today is a good day,” Eva replied and they immediately became great friends.
After losing Eva, Amandha was left to battle her own cancer-related demons.
“My sister Whitney used to say I went from being 17 to 40 overnight. My physical person was completely the same, but inside — emotionally — I was different. I no longer shared common ground with my school friends, so I lost a lot of friends that way.”
But Amandha was already cancer-weary, having lost her best friend Loni to cancer years before, when she 10 and Loni was 11.
“I’d only known people who had died from cancer,” Amandha says. “When I was diagnosed, I thought: ‘I’m 17 and I’m going to die. I’m not going to graduate and go to university. I’m not going to get married and have kids. I’m going to die.”
Amandha survived cancer, but not unscathed. As with many childhood cancer survivors, she struggled with depression for years after treatment. Amandha was eventually diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, periodically seeing a therapist to manage her PTSD.
a fundraising legacy
In the aftermath of cancer, Amandha started making good on her promise to Eva. Little did she know that she and fellow cancer survivors Taryn Penrice and Jeff McNabb would start a legacy of fundraising for pediatric cancer research in central Alberta.
After organizing a shave event in 2001 and raising more than $75,000 for Kids Cancer Care, Amandha joined forces with her friends Taryn and Jeff to organize the first Golf a Kid to Cure tournament in Red Deer.
Jeff’s family later went on to organize the Build a Kid to Cure initiative, where trades and individuals from the housing industry donate time and resources to build a home. Proceeds from the sale of the home go to Kids Cancer Care and other local charities.
Sadly, Jeff passed away in 2011 and his parents Dave and Brigitte McNabb kept the legacy alive by annually hosting the Build/Golf a Kid to Cure events in his memory. With the support of the employees at Dominion Lending Centres Regional Mortgage Group and the Red Deer community, the McNabbs have raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for childhood cancer research.
But when Amandha promised to keep fighting for Eva in 2001, she had more than fundraising in mind. She had plans to become a pediatric oncology nurse.
When Kids Cancer Care introduced the Derek Wandzura Memorial Scholarship Fund in 2008, Amandha was among the first 26 cancer survivors in Alberta to receive a scholarship. With the help of that scholarship, Amandha pursued a Bachelor of Science in Nursing through a joint degree program at Red Deer College and the University of Alberta.
“I was so grateful to receive that scholarship,” says Amandha. “It gave me the opportunity to focus on my studies.”
Amandha is now using her nursing career to continue paying it forward, working as a critical care nurse in the Emergency Department at the Foothills Medical Centre in Calgary.
“It can be tough, working as an emergency nurse,” she says. “We’re with people on the worst day of their life. We are part of that really bad day. You save their life and they go away and you never see them again. It’s so intense and immediate. Afterwards, you can say, ‘I did that for them. I helped save their life.’”
Amandha remembers her first emergency ward experience: “I was doing my final preceptorship in Atlanta and I was terrified. One of the nurses said to me, ‘Don’t worry; you won’t be doing chest compressions on your first day.’ I did chest compressions on two patients that day and they both lived,” she laughs. “I must be an adrenaline junky or something. It was such a high to know that I had helped save them.”
More than the adrenaline-high, Amandha loves the fact that she can give her entire being to her patients: “I can give all of myself to nursing. I can use my brains, my hands and my heart. I use all of these parts of myself.”
A big part of Amandha also loves the diversity of the role — from newborns to seniors, and everyone in between. Each patient presents with a different disease or medical issue, from hang nails to heart attacks. Amandha is constantly learning and the breadth of her knowledge is ever expanding.
But there is one area of nursing that Amandha is currently unable to go — pediatric oncology.
“I’ve tried, but I can’t do it,” she says. “I used to see that as a failure, but I don’t anymore.”
Working with a therapist over the past few years, Amandha has learned to manage her PTSD by identifying triggers and dealing with them early on, so they don’t escalate. Helping children on a pediatric cancer unit is one of those triggers.
“I don’t know if cancer follows us or if, as former patients, we follow cancer, but it is always there,” says Amandha. “From diagnosis to my dying day, it will forever be part of me.”
For now, Amandha continues to fight for young people like Eva by raising awareness through public speaking engagements at two Red Deer high schools.
“I couldn’t save Eva’s physical being,” Amandha says, “but I can keep her with me spiritually. I carry her with me. Who knows how Eva would have lived or fulfilled her potential. I’m helping in my way. I think that’s how we honour the people who are no longer with us. We live for them.”
As a teen, Amandha could not save Eva’s life. Nor could she save Loni’s life. But as a critical care nurse, Amandha saves lives every day. We never know exactly how our dreams and promises will manifest. They can manifest in unexpected ways. Amandha’s dreams and promises led her to a career in nursing at the Foothills Emergency Department, where every day she enacts the one thing she was unable to do as a kid – save lives.