fb

Volunteer Spotlight: Shalaka

It’s National Volunteer Week and we want to celebrate some of our amazing volunteers.  

This is Shalaka, a.k.a. Galaxy. She’s a med student at the University of Bristol in the United Kingdom. When Shalaka’s not poring over medical books and preparing for exams, she’s back at home in Calgary where she volunteers for Kids Cancer Care. No wonder her camp name is Galaxy. She travels a lot.


Shalaka first learned about Kids Cancer Care in 2017 through a colleague of her mother’s who was impressed with the foundation. Shalaka was intrigued. She had worked with children at the YMCA as a lifeguard and swim instructor and loved it. She figured Kids Cancer Care would be a great fit. And so it is!


“Kids Cancer Care programs and events are so well run,” says Shalaka. “It’s a great experience for me as a volunteer and an excellent way to connect with like-minded youth while making a difference in the lives of children and families touched by cancer. On top of all this, I have a great time!”
Shalaka started volunteering in 2017 with our summer camp programs at Camp Kindle. In 2018 and 2019, she volunteered for our SunRise day camps, and during the pandemic, she volunteered for our virtual programs. She was also one of the dedicated volunteers who drove around Calgary, delivering special packages to families to enhance their online program experiences during COVID-19. As a volunteer, the most memorable moments for Shalaka are the ones where she sees personal growth in the kiddos. “At SunRise, I was a one-to-one aide for a young autistic boy,” she says. “He wanted to be carried everywhere and wasn’t eager to participate in any of the games and activities. I am a small person, so it was a bit of a challenge to carry him all day, but eventually, as we got to know each other, I was able to convince him to walk more and participate in the activities, and enjoy camp more. Seeing his smile was absolutely amazing and knowing I had made a difference was beyond rewarding.”


As she wraps up her spring school term, Shalaka is getting excited to return home and volunteer again. “I am so looking forward to interacting with kids in person at SunRise this year, especially after a gap of two years. The camp is so much fun for the children and it is amazing to have the bonding with other Kids Cancer Care volunteers. Can’t wait!” 

Shalaka first learned about Kids Cancer Care in 2017 through a colleague of her mother’s who was impressed with the foundation. Shalaka was intrigued. She had worked with children at the YMCA as a lifeguard and swim instructor and loved it. She figured Kids Cancer Care would be a great fit. And so it is!  

“Kids Cancer Care programs and events are so well run,” says Shalaka. “It’s a great experience for me as a volunteer and an excellent way to connect with like-minded youth, while making a difference in the lives of children and families touched by cancer. On top of all this, I have a great time!”  

As we kick off National Volunteer Week, we’re inviting you to celebrate our amazing volunteers by sharing your favourite volunteer stories!  

I chose to start my story in August 2004, although unknown to my family and I, my cancer experience had in truth started months earlier. Being on summer break as a 14-year-old, I was expected to be out having fun with friends, but I found myself confined to the couch, sleeping away the days of summer. For most of that year I had not been the picture of health. A countless stream of chest infections sucking my energy. It wasn’t until I got an innocent chest X-ray that the truth about my health started to reveal itself.  

I was immediately admitted to the Alberta Children’s Hospital and isolated in an infectious disease ward. Countless tests performed and endless questions asked. After a lymph node biopsy was taken from my neck and my lung, the doctors got the answer that no one wanted. I didn’t have “cat scratch disease.” I had cancer.  

Karisa at the Alberta Children’s Hospital

Even before this point, I remember feeling so isolated. I was locked away from my friends and my carefree life. Even the nurses seemed to keep their distance. All I saw was their eyes from behind their goggles and masks, looking down at me with pity. Because I was a minor, it seemed I didn’t have the right to know what was going on with my own health. No one would tell me what was wrong and why I couldn’t go home yet. I was continuously told to wait until the doctors spoke with my parents. I could see the nurses outside my room, whispering. I always felt it was about me.  

It wasn’t until the end of August that I received my diagnosis. I had stage 4B Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Masses had been growing in both my lungs, my neck, around my spleen and along my spine. At 14 years, I didn’t truly realize what this diagnosis meant, but I did know that cancer meant that I could die.  

I didn’t really have time to process my diagnosis before my treatment started. I was required to endure five cycles of chemotherapy followed by a month of radiation treatments. During my first cycle of chemotherapy, I had an anaphylactic reaction to one of the drugs, which left me in the intensive care unit. Despite that, the rest of my chemotherapy went as expected. 

Karisa undergoing treatment at the Alberta Children’s Hospital

Five or so months of chemotherapy left me void of all energy. I didn’t feel like myself, I was achy all over from sleeping all day, but couldn’t find the energy to do anything other than sleep. My legs had severe pain and would refuse to work at times causing me to fall. I had the occasional fever where I would beg my parents to not tell the doctor, so I could stay at home instead of being admitted back to the hospital. 

My family and friends did what they could to cheer me up. I had surprise visits from friends and teachers. They even snuck my hamster in for a visit. My brother was a big support for me, far bigger than I think he realizes. He was always there to try and make me smile. Whether it was drawing my doctor’s face on my stomach or engaging in the latest fashion trends of “bear toupee.” 

Karisa showing her brother’s stomach drawings

My first experience with Kids Cancer Care was about half way through my cancer treatments when my parents had enrolled both my brother and I in a weekend teen camp. Naturally, I was not looking forward to it. I hadn’t been social since my diagnosis and the thought of being stuck at a camp with strangers in the middle of November scared me. But entering this camp was like entering a different world. Everyone was excited to meet me and hear my story. Comparing treatment regiments and scars seemed to be normal. They were okay if I didn’t have hair or if I had a central line coming out of my chest. I hadn’t really opened up to anyone about what I was going through, but this camp, felt like a safe space to do so. Sitting in the dorm rooms at night hearing others speak so openly about their experiences was inspiring. 

Kids Cancer Care was so welcoming and encouraged me to share my story with more people than just my bunk mates. I was asked to be a spokeskid. In this role, I created a speech to recite for events such as fundraising events and head shave events. My most exciting event was the one where I got the privilege to shave my brother’s head at his school head shave. Most importantly, I attended many more teen camps and as many summer camps as I could.  

Karisa all smiles

A year after my treatment had ended, I was allowed to attend the coveted SunSeeker camp. This camp was for adventure seekers. During my time in these camps, we hiked the Juan de Fuca Trail, travelled by sea kayaks to our own private beach, traversed the glaciers between Bow and Peyto hut and completed numerous kayaking trips and white-water rafting adventures. I had never had an adventure like the ones during this camp. I remember waking up one morning and stepping out of my tent to the vision of whales breaching right past our campsite. And it all seemed to hit me then, how lucky I was. I felt so free and thankful. I was thankful for that moment and for the wonderful people surrounding me. I was also grateful that my life had taken the course it had. 

Stunning scenery on a SunSeeker hike

When I reflect on my cancer experience, I feel fortunate and humbled. This cancer experience presented me with so many opportunities that could have otherwise been missed. Kids Cancer Care played a huge role in this and provided me with most of those opportunities. As a 14-year-old going through something so monumental, it changed how I view the world. It allowed me to re-evaluate my life and to find what (and who) is most meaningful to me.

At my five-year remission date, I felt overwhelmed. I considered myself lucky to remain cancer free to this point. But the risk of it coming back or of getting another type of cancer related to my treatment loomed in the back of my mind. I continued to endure scans and tests every year and those tests only fed into this fear.  

The years continue to pass and each year I feel blessed. I am currently 17 years in remission. I still experience these fears of cancer returning, but they growing fainter as the years pass.  

Karisa taking in the views at SunSeeker

I consider myself extremely lucky. My cancer has left me with no visible side effects or disabilities. I am strong and healthy. My body has the strength and energy to take me to many places and to experience many of the wonders this world has to offer. I have hiked and biked more kilometres than I can count. I have had the chance to experience breathtaking views here in Alberta and throughout the world.  

I also had the opportunity to complete my nursing degree with the help of a Kids Cancer Care Derek Wandzura Memorial Scholarship. I currently work as a registered nurse in an inpatient hematology and oncology ward. In fact, I administer the same chemotherapy agents that I received 17 years ago. I don’t always share my cancer experience with my patients, but I feel deeply connected to them. 

Karisa’s participation in the Shave Your Lid For a Kid event

My experience with cancer has truly shaped who I am today. At the beginning of my diagnosis, I honestly believed that I had been cursed and that cancer would be my demise. But with the love and support of those close to me, I was able to engage in the opportunities this “curse” had presented me. During my cancer journey, I have met some of the most inspiring people, rediscovered my passion for the outdoors through Kids Cancer Care camps and discovered a career I love. These are just to name a few. In truth, I feel like my journey is never ending. Each day is a new opportunity.

In Johannesburg, South Africa in the early ‘70s, a little girl named Walda was diagnosed with a brain cancer. She was five years old and her life was forever changed. Now, 43 years later, in another city, on another continent 15,815 kilometers away, a little girl named Nina was going the distance for Walda and children like her in the Kids Cancer Care Cycle Challenge.

Over the course of a week in 2020, 68 cyclists collectively rode more than 17,000 kilometres and raised $202,000 for Kids Cancer Care. Those numbers soared in 2021 with 133 cyclists riding 35,000 kilometres and raising $331,532. Their fundraising success was supported by generous sponsors such as Peloton Computer Enterprises in both years.

Members of the 2legit2quit team

While little Nina pedalled hard to do 50 kilometres in a week, hardcore cyclist Troy Delfs of the Peloton Racing Club did 500 kilometres. Then, athletic titans like Jared Green do 500 kilometres in a day.

Nine-year-old Nina putting in her kilometers for the Kids Cancer Care Cycle Challenge.

Troy Delfs and the Peloton Racing Club have long supported Kids Cancer Care through Tour for Kids Alberta — a three-day cycling event through the Canadian Rockies. When Tour for Kids Alberta was cancelled in 2020, Kids Cancer Care added the cycle challenge. Although Troy misses the camaraderie of Tour for Kids, he loves the flexibility of the cycle challenge.

“What was nice about this event is you could participate from anywhere, at any time,” says Troy. “We were on a family vacation in the Okanagan and it was completely doable because I could spread the kilometers out over the week and still have time with my family.”

(Foreground) Troy Delfs with cycling buddies (L-R) Lance Hubber and Daniel Poggi.

Nina’s mother Rensché Venter also appreciates the flexible format: “It’s really great to do something like this as a family. Nina was super excited about it. If the format is the same this year, we’ll be back.”

In July 2022, the Kids Cancer Care Cycling Challenge will be back for its third year, running for two weeks from July 9 to 23. Additionally, the first 100 cyclists to raise $1,000 will get to enjoy a fun-filled day at Camp Kindle on Saturday, July 23. For a $75 fee, they can also spend the night at Camp Kindle.

“A two-week event gives the cyclists even more time and flexibility to put in their miles,” says Renee MacTavish, events and community relations manager at Kids Cancer Care. “We added the Camp Kindle experience, because its the one thing the cyclists from Tour for Kids really miss. They miss hanging out together at Camp Kindle.”

“Being out at Camp Kindle reminds all of us why we’re cycling and why we’re fundraising,” says Christine McIver, founder and CEO of Kids Cancer Care who cycles with the Bow City Rollers in the event. “And camp is a lot of fun — especially after two years of COVID.”

The Bow City Rollers cycled the Rotary Mattamy Greenway, supporting local charity (Kids Cancer Care) and local business by staying in Calgary hotels along the way.

Keeping the kids top of mind is also important to Rensché. Growing up in South Africa along side her cousin Walda, Rensché saw firsthand what cancer can do to a child.

When Rensché’s daughter Nina was a toddler, they travelled to South Africa to visit family. That’s when Nina first met her mother’s cousin Walda. Nina was two and Walda was 42. Although the distance between them was vast, when measured in kilometers and age, they bonded instantly. Developmentally, Nina and Walda were somewhat close in age as Walda had experienced significant physical and cognitive delays after cancer. The two of them had a lot of fun together on that holiday.

Nina and Rensché having some laughs with Walda (foreground).

Events such as the cycle challenge offer Rensché teachable moments for her daughter. “I explained to Nina that we were riding for kids like Walda,” says Rensché. “I told her, ‘That’s what happened to Walda. She had cancer as a child.’”

As senior manager of MNP’s Enterprise Risk Services, Rensché also gives back in other ways, providing risk management services at no cost to Kids Cancer Care.

“Kids Cancer Care will always have a special place in my heart because of Walda,” says Rensché. “My mother and Walda’s mother were very close, so we saw each other often and we did a lot together. Walda had balance issues and was often falling. I remember her falling and smashing her head open. I understand the challenges of having a child affected by cancer and what groups like Kids Cancer Care can do for these kids and families.”

Thank you for going the distance for children affected by cancer. Your support makes Camp Kindle programs possible.


“I’ve never missed a year and have overwhelming gratitude for the staff at Kids Cancer Care who dedicates this time to our kids every year. It’s amazing.”— Anne    

Anne Cameron’s journey with childhood cancer began when her 13-year-old son Ty was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia (AML). Ninety per cent of his blood cells were cancerous. That whirlwind journey still confounds her 11 years later.  

“It was simply a sore throat. Swollen glands. Possibly mono,” says Anne. “How on earth did three visits to the walk-in clinic over Christmas break and two visits to the Alberta Children’s Hospital over a sore throat, become cancer?” 

Ty’s treatment protocol involved six months of high-dose chemotherapy, which took him to the brink of death several times.  

After an 11-month remission, he relapsed. A bone marrow transplant (BMT) was his only option but finding a perfect match would be next to impossible as Ty was mixed race. When they did find matches in September 2010, Ty underwent a dual cord blood transplant.  

While the BMT was successful, the worst of his journey was yet to come. Ty developed graft versus host disease (GvHD), a serious condition where the donated bone marrow attacks the patient’s body. 

“It began attacking — his skin, eyes, mouth and lungs,” says Anne. “Everything that could go wrong seemed to. He had infection after infection, bacterial, viral, fevers. During his third visit to the intensive care unit on September 10, 2012 at 4:18 am, Jesus took Ty home.”  

Anne marvels that Ty was actually in remission when he left this world and understandably feels robbed by that cruel twist of fate: “Seven days later would have marked his two-year cancer-free point. After that date, the chances of relapse were next to none.” 

There are many ironies in their family’s cancer journey, and they are not lost on Anne: “I am actually the one who has been the most involved and received the most from Kids Cancer Care,” she says. “From Pizza Night while in hospital to Bereaved Family Camp and Time to Remember, Kids Cancer Care has been a lifeline for me.” 

Thanks to you, Kids Cancer Care is there for families like Anne’s, offering healing and support at each stage of the cancer journey — even in bereavement.  

Your support has helped build a robust Bereavement Program for families facing the unbelievable pain of losing a child. It started with Time to Remember, followed by Bereaved Family Camp and later Bereaved Parent Cooking Classes. 

Anne at Kids Cancer Care’s Time to Remember

“We bond, we grieve, we celebrate, and we heal together,” says Anne recalling these programs. “Time to Remember is sacred — the tea lights, the twinkle lights, the poetry. Every year, it is incredible and it’s everything I hoped for. Kids Cancer Care puts an amazing amount of thought and energy into this special evening honouring our kids.” 

“Kids Cancer Care has been a lifeline for me.”
— Anne.

With your ongoing support, we plan to expand the Bereavement Program, adding social worker Pam Birch, who specializes in grief, to develop the program.  

“Newly bereaved families have asked me: ‘How do you laugh? How do you smile when talking about your son?’ I respond, ‘We are so fortunate to have the support of this group. We have Kids Cancer Care.’” 

Thank you for being there for bereaved families like Anne’s. Your generosity means that no family will have to grieve alone. 

“I feel so alone. No one looks like me.” — Meghan  

Meghan has missed half of kindergarten and all of grade one. She’s also missed ballet and soccer and all sorts of social opportunities.    

In February 2020, Meghan was diagnosed with high-risk acute lymphoblastic leukemia pre-B. When COVID-19 was declared a global pandemic a month later, Susan and Mark Haggas decided to keep both Meghan and her brother Ryan home for online learning. It was just too risky.  

Meghan and her grandparents at the hospital

After two months of online learning, it became clear that it wasn’t working. “To expect a child her age to sit and do schoolwork online like that is too much,” says Susan. “She needed hands-on learning at home.”  

So, on top of caring for a child with cancer and taking turns with Mark to drive into Calgary each week for Meghan’s treatments, Susan took on homeschooling while Mark continued working full-time. 

Meghan and dog Treasure

Thanks to you, we were there for Meghan and her family in this difficult time. “The Kids Cancer Care Zoom calls were vital to Meghan’s mental health,” says Susan. “You feel very isolated, especially during a pandemic. Seeing those smiling faces — the hockey players, princesses, dance parties, fun crafts and physio with Caro on Wednesdays — was the only social interaction Meghan had. Because of the pandemic, she literally saw no one.” 

In September 2021, it was time for Meghan and Ryan to return to classroom learning, “But after a year and a half of homeschooling, how do we return to school?” asks Susan.  

Sue & Meghan

Once again, with your generous support, our child life specialist Kim Clark was there to support Meghan with a remote Cancer in the Classroom session for her classmates.  

Cancer in the Classroom is a fun, interactive presentation that explains childhood cancer in simple terms. Customized for different grade levels, it offers students a safe place to explore the myths and fears of cancer, helping them to better understand the disease and its impact on their schoolmate.  

Meghan shares her beads during Cancer in the Classroom

Kim included Meghan in every step of the process, from choosing which photos to use in the presentation to sharing her cancer experiences and presenting her Beads of Courage. As part of the session, each child receives a set of their own beads to involve them in Meghan’s cancer journey. 

Seated at the front of the class, Meghan beamed throughout the session, proudly holding her stuffed monkey. Called a Monkey in My Chair, a smiling monkey comes with each presentation. It helps Meghan stay connected with her classmates by sitting at her desk while she’s away. It wasn’t long before the monkey started working its magic in Meghan’s classroom. 

“After the presentation, we kept Meghan home for a few days because routine blood work showed her ANC* had dropped significantly,” says Mark. “While she was away, her classmates shared their school stories with the monkey and told Meghan all about their adventures when she returned the next week. Meghan was thrilled.”  

Thank you for supporting Meghan as she returns to school. With your generosity, Cancer in the Classroom is expanding young minds and fostering greater understanding and empathy for kids like Meghan.  

*Absolute neutrophil count may be used to check for infection, inflammation, leukemia, and other conditions. A lower ANC increases the risk of getting an infection.   

“There is news that you never expect to hear. You see and you hear stories about people with Cancer, but you never expect it to happen to someone you love, let alone your child.”


– Sergio Urbina, Melanie’s father

My daughter Melanie was diagnosed with leukemia (ALL) on April 17, 2019. She was 11 years old. At that time, Melanie was living in Mexico with her sisters and my ex-wife. Melanie had been feeling sick for a couple of weeks. She had been throwing up constantly, and at first, the doctors said that she just had a stomach flu and was sent home.

As Melanie continued to be sick, she was admitted to a children’s hospital in Mexico for further testing. I had remarried and had been living in Canada since 2013, so I asked my mother if she could go and support my ex-wife at the hospital and to keep me informed of what was going on.

On Wednesday, April 17, 2019, my parents-in-law showed up at our house. I knew right away that something was wrong. My mother had called them from Mexico and had asked them to come to my house to give me the news. My daughter Melanie had leukemia. I remember my wife breaking down in the living room, while I stood in the kitchen frozen.

As soon as I came out of the kitchen, I called my mother and my ex-wife, and they confirmed the news. My first instinct was to get on a plane and get to my daughter, but my wife told me that we needed to get Melanie to Canada as soon as possible. My wife’s brother is a leukemia survivor, and he was treated at the Alberta Children’s Hospital. I think that is part of the reason my mother called my in-laws to give me the news, because they had been in that position themselves. They could understand better than anyone what I would be feeling, but they could also offer me a sign of hope. If my brother-in-law could make it, so could my daughter, but we needed to get her to Canada.

Melanie at the hospital.

We were clear that if my daughter was going to have a chance of survival, she had to come to Canada for treatment. With the full support of my wife and Melanie’s mom, we decided that we were going to bring Melanie to Canada and would do whatever was necessary to save her. The problem was that she was not a Canadian resident, and we couldn’t afford to pay for her treatment.

The next day, my wife and I went to the Harry Hays building to get some information on how to bring Melanie to Canada. Unfortunately, we found out that the immigration office there only sees people by appointment. They gave us a phone number to call, and the only answer was that we needed to start a sponsorship application, which could take up to a year. We did not have that kind of time.

From the Harry Hays building we drove to the office of our MLA’s office. We explained our situation and were advised again that without a sponsorship application there was nothing they could do. They suggested that we call Alberta Health Services for a bit of guidance. From the MLA’s office we drove to the passport office. I had recently become a Canadian citizen and did not have my passport yet and I needed to get to Mexico as soon as possible.

While we driving to the passport office, my wife called Alberta Health Services and again explained our situation. The man she spoke to advised that there wasn’t much they could really do, that we needed to apply for sponsorship and then Melanie would get her Alberta Health Care card. Within seconds of hanging up the phone, the same man called my wife back. He had found out that as a daughter of a Canadian citizen and with her visitor record, Melanie could get a temporary Alberta Health Care card.  It wouldn’t cover everything, but it would cover most of the expenses. My wife and I had to pull over to the side of the road because we were so overcome with emotion. We had figured out a way to get my daughter Melanie to Canada.

On Sunday, April 21, 2019, I flew to Mexico.  I can’t explain what I felt when I arrived and saw Melanie. She was skin and bones. They had her on a very strict diet at the hospital. The hospital room was the size of a shoebox and my mother, who had been staying with Melanie, was sleeping in a plastic chair by Melanie’s bed. At that moment, I realized that we had made the right decision, because there was no way my daughter was going to survive in that hospital.

Meanwhile in Canada, my brother-in-law went to the Alberta Children’s Hospital and asked what was necessary to have Melanie treated at their oncology clinic. He was advised that they would need a referral from the hospital in Mexico or from a family doctor in Canada. As I was taking Melanie out of the hospital in Mexico under my discretion, they refused to give me the referral, only her test results. My wife reached out to our family doctor Dr. Haniff and he kindly agreed to see Melanie as soon as she arrived in Calgary to provide the referral, so she could be seen right away.

By the time Melanie arrived in Canada for treatment, she was so weak she couldn’t even walk.

On Thursday April 25th, 2019, I flew back to Calgary with Melanie and my mother. By this time, Melanie was so weak she couldn’t even walk on her own. She was extremely thin. She barely spoke. She wasn’t herself at all. The next day, we took Melanie to see Dr. Haniff, and from there, to the emergency centre at the Alberta Children’s Hospital. We were put right away in a private room, and within minutes, Dr. Strother came to see her. He took a quick look at her tests from Mexico and within the hour Melanie was admitted to the oncology clinic.

That first week my wife and I didn’t leave the hospital. Our daughter Sofia was three at the time, and we left her with my mother and my in-laws, so that we could focus on Melanie. This was extremely difficult for us, but we are forever thankful for the support we had from our family and friends.

When the nurse came to the room that first day, she realized that Melanie’s veins were like colanders. While she had been hospitalized in Mexico, Melanie was poked 18 times. They needed to bring in a paramedic to start an IV as neither the nurses nor the lab could find a suitable vein. To this day, we still need to use numbing cream for Melanie to be poked. The one time we went for blood work without the cream, she had a full-on panic attack. All because she clearly remembers the multiple pokes.

One of the other problems they encountered at the Alberta Children’s Hospital was that because Melanie had been put on a “diabetic diet”, she needed all kind of supplements. We went from having all these dietary restrictions, to trying to have her eat as much as possible.

Resting at the hospital.

I will never forget that first conversation we had with Dr. Strother, when he explained what leukemia was, what the treatment would look like and what Melanie’s chances of recovery were. The first good news (and believe me, even in the bad you learn to find the good) was that Melanie had a “garden variety” leukemia. Her chances of full recovery were good.

Learning about the medication that she would be given was a bit harder. Melanie would lose her beautiful long hair. She would be moody at times. Her weight would fluctuate, her ability to learn, especially math, would be compromised…but she would live. A few days later, Melanie had surgery to have her port inserted, and then we were able to go home.

I cannot even imagine what was going through Melanie’s mind through all of this. First of all, she did not speak English. She is a shy girl by nature. And she had been separated from her mother and sisters without being asked. The adults in her life made the decision to save her life, and she understood that, but it didn’t make it any easier for her. To this day, she still asks herself, “Why me?” Thankfully, Melanie had been to Canada before for a visit, and she has been very close to my wife since she was four years old. We also had my mother here to help us, and that was another source of support for Melanie. Still, there was a space that we were unable to fill.

Melanie at the Alberta Children’s Hospital.

As treatment progressed, we had to stay at the hospital on multiple occasions, for treatment, and thankfully, only a few times due to complications. Every time we had to stay, Melanie would fall into a depression. She hated having to stay at the hospital. My wife and I took turns staying with her. Trying to keep her spirits up, playing games, watching movies, and ordering her favourite foods. We tried to have her see the oncology psychologist, but with the language barrier, it just wasn’t working. Thankfully, with time, we didn’t have to go to the hospital as often.

We finally received confirmation of her resident status in September of 2020. The relief was immense, but even though that first year was a financial nightmare, my wife and I never regretted the decision to bring Melanie here. As soon as she had her papers, we enrolled her in junior high school. By that time, her hair was back, and she looked healthy. She made friends and she was happy.

We were told that her last day of chemo would be August 7th, 2021. The day we found out the news, we cried. Finally, the end was in sight. We gave Melanie the option of having an end-of-chemo party in Canada or going back to Mexico to see her mom and sisters. Obviously, she chose to go back to Mexico, so we started planning. We all got the COVID-19 vaccine and took the appropriate measures.

Melanie, all smiles, even at the hospital.

A few months ago, we started to see some changes in Melanie. She was throwing up and her eyes were yellow. After a few tests and hospital visits, we found out her bilirubin was high. The doctor told us that we needed to stop chemo for a couple of weeks. As we didn’t see any improvements, we took her back to the hospital where she ended up getting a transfusion. Something that isn’t talked about enough is how many blood transfusions kids get during cancer treatment, and what a huge and immediate improvement they make. A week after her transfusion, Melanie continued her treatment.

On July 1, 2021, after a weekend of camping, Melanie told my wife that she was losing some hair again. Over three days, the hair loss became so bad that we called the doctors in a panic. We were told that although it wasn’t common to lose hair a second time, it could happen. That was one of the most difficult days over the past two and half years. I don’t know if it is because we were not expecting it, or if it was Melanie’s reaction…but we made the decision right then and there that we would shave her head again. Melanie cried the entire time as my wife and I held her. It simply broke our hearts to see her that sad. Her biggest concern was that she does not want to go back to school in September without her hair. She didn’t want to look sick or weak. She wanted to look like a normal girl.

Melanie, looking radiant for the Dad and Daughter Gala.

I’m happy to say that on August 7, 2021, my daughter took her last chemo treatment in Mexico, surrounded by family. I’m proud to call her my daughter. I’m proud of the way that she has handled her journey. My daughter is the strongest person I know, and although we still have a ways to go, we know she can handle anything the future throws her way.

We are forever thankful to the doctors and nurses at the Alberta Children’s Hospital and to Kids Cancer Care for their unconditional support. And we are grateful to our family and our friends.  This is something we will always carry with us, but the people around us have made the load much lighter.

~ Sergio Urbina, Melanie’s father

“The pathology results have come back from the tissue we removed during your surgery and, I’m so sorry, but it has come back as malignant. I have been in contact with the Alberta Children’s Hospital in Calgary, and they are expecting you tonight or tomorrow morning to start talking about your treatment protocol and to start testing…” 

Those are the words my mother and I heard the afternoon of September 2, 1994 — the second day of grade 10 for me — and our whole world changed forever. So many things hit at once. When you receive a cancer diagnosis, you have no time to adapt to what’s going on because you are undergoing all kinds of testing, while your parents are filling out endless paperwork. Emotions run so high during this time — confusion, sadness, shock, anger, denial, and of course, fear. You are never physically alone through that horrible day of testing, but you are emotionally and often physically naked in front of a world of strangers. Scans, biopsies, surgeries, pokes, new foreign objects being implanted in your chest, toxic chemicals and radiation being pumped into your body in order to save your life. And for my family, we had lots of travel back and forth from Medicine Hat to Calgary. Trying desperately to make medical personnel listen to you to tell them what is going on in your body and in your head — but you are a kid — what do you know?  

I was supported by great parents who had my back and let me weigh in and make my own decisions regarding treatment on my soft palate to remove the rare rhabdomyosarcoma that I presented with that September evening at Alberta Children’s Hospital. My parents took my doctor at his word and had me in Calgary by 8:00 that same evening. I was told to eat well and get lots of sleep because I was going for lots of tests the next day — and was I ever tested! Every kind of scan and test was performed on me on that long day and I was so tired and sore, but this day was nothing compared to what was to come for my family and I. There were multiple surgeries scheduled to remove the cancerous tissue, margin by margin. A central venous access line was inserted into my chest to administer endless medication. We were taught how to maintain that piece of tubing, which went through my chest, close to my right breast, and through the jugular vein and into my heart. The CVA line was frightening because it went directly to my heart. I was scared that if it came out or an end came off in my sleep, I might bleed out and not know it. They made sure that we knew the dangers of the treatments, but we ultimately learned that CVAs are very safe. Treatment protocols were discussed and I turned down the offer to participate in a study on new chemotherapy protocols despite lots of pressure from the medical team. Ground being firmly established on both sides, chemotherapy commenced, and my world became Hell every three weeks for the next 48 weeks — nearly an entire year of highly toxic chemicals being pumped into my little body to try to save my life. Physical feelings — discomfort, negative reactions, transfusions, immune-suppression, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, constipation, exhaustion, insomnia, and worlds of pain — constant aching, shooting pains, building pains — all over my body but nothing compared to the Cyclophosphamide headache. Imagine the worst migraine you have ever had — now multiply it by 10 and endure that for over two hours with the drug running through the CVA and straight into your heart. My poor mother did her best with cold washcloths and all the comforting her hands could give me.  

Tiana’s smile could light up any room

My treatments finished in 1995 and I met lots of great people from different organizations related to the cancer community, which was in its infancy compared to where it is now. Childhood cancer is openly shown and discussed now, but it was not as much back then. We were working to change that. The Canadian Cancer Society – Medicine Hat branch reached out and asked if I would be their poster child for 1996 and 1997. I would be doing media interviews, appearing at events and making speeches — a challenge for me as my cancer was soft palate and I now had a cleft palate from a stitch removed too soon. I did this volunteer work as I was able during my treatment and recovery. I did lots of appearances at schools, talking with kids and learning what they thought cancer was and where they got their information from and what I could do to change those misperceptions. While working with the women at the Medicine Hat office, I got to know them well and they listened to my story. They told me they knew of a way to help me recover from the emotional trauma of cancer. I had lots of support from my family and my Medicine Hat team but there is something inherently lonely about going through a cancer journey — especially then when it was not really talked about publicly. 

No one understands what you are going through — except another patient or a survivor your own age. Enter Christine Wandzura (McIver now) and Camp SunMaker, recommended by the staff at the Canadian Cancer Society. They gave me forms to complete, and after my mom and I filled them in, they sent them off for me. They got me in just under the deadline for the 1996 camp season! I was in for an amazing experience, but I had no idea at the time how influential and profound that experience would be for me. How it would shape me for the rest of my life. 

The summer of 1996 found me heading to Calgary again, but for a positive experience this time and not with the usual fear, anger, threats, and pain I normally travelled that long stretch of the TransCanada Highway. This time, I was meeting up with other cancer patients and their siblings who were attending the camp that week. I was nervous, because when I was on active treatment, I had not been given much freedom to mingle with the other patients in Calgary. I hadn’t really met many of them. I wasn’t used to being away from my mother, even though I was 16. I was nervous because she has always been my biggest supporter on every level. Mom — emotional supporter, defender, and medic. I knew there were medics assigned to each group at camp and that all medical requirements were being met, but its so hard to leave that rock and routine you know so well and with which you are so comfortable. I hadn’t realized until that moment how “institutionalized” I had become in the medical world   and how dependent on my mom I now was. This is one of the reasons cancer is so hard on teens. You lose all of the independence you gained before diagnosis and become totally dependent again. I met up with another girl my age (Mandy) and she introduced me to others she knew from previous years, and we all ended up being part of the same cabin team! I couldn’t believe how many kids were in that room waiting for the buses to arrive to take us out to the camp!

Tiana enjoying herself at camp

Christine and her staff and volunteers did such a great job, making sure we knew who our medics were and ensuring we felt comfortable asking our counsellors about anything that was going on. As cancer kids we had to have confidence that our medical needs were being looked after, before we could truly begin to enjoy our experience, cut loose and have some fun like the kids that we were. 

Those who had siblings at camp were able to see their family at any time they needed to, but if they were different ages and in different cabins, they were able to get that little bit of independent time they may need. 

There were great experiences at Camp SunMaker. At that time, it was held at Camp Horizon near Bragg Creek and the setting was gorgeous to this prairie girl — coniferous trees everywhere I looked! We had good weather for the most part and on the poor-weather days we were able to do a lot of alternative indoor activities, so we weren’t sitting around. We banded together and supported each other, and for the first time, I could talk about my experiences to people who truly understood what I had been through because they had been through similar experiences too. They knew the fear, the anger, the pain and they knew the fight. They knew people who had fought and made it. They knew people who had fought and died. I came to the camp as a newbie and when they held the Night to Remember during campfire at the beginning of camp, I chose to stay behind and rest in my cabin. I didn’t know anyone yet and I wasn’t quite comfortable going to something so deeply personal. Although I was assured I would be quite welcome, I was able to listen and it touched me so deeply to hear those kids say the names of those who couldn’t come back this year or ever again. I thought of those I knew who hadn’t made it and when the other girls came back to the cabin, they saw me sitting on my bed and they came over to hug me because they knew what I was feeling. That hug shattered the newbie feeling for me and I was now one of the pack and we went on to take care of each other. That week we camped out, played games and song wars and climbed rock faces. I was afraid of heights, but when a one-legged girl challenges you to climb, you gotta’ do it! We also did the low ropes course. Today, one of my life’s regrets is chickening out on the high ropes course. We experienced a sweat lodge and the amazing therapy of just learning the meditation techniques that went with it. We also went on a raft trip and learned to trust each other and work as a team. I can’t swim and am not the fondest of water, but I did it and had such a great time! And we spent so much time just being with each other, sharing our experiences. Every kid at that camp gained something in their spirits and their characters. The last day of camp came when everyone had to go home and there were so many tears because no one wanted to leave each other. We knew that some of us would never come back. 

Tiana courageously climbing the rocks

From that camp on, I drew on the confidence I gained from being around other people my own age who knew what I had gone through and from being challenged to face my phobias and triumphing over them. I saw other kids who had gone through even worse treatments than I had and I was inspired by their courage and determination. I saw children who never gave up because they didn’t understand the meaning of not surviving and they kept digging in to live. More importantly, I saw those same kids, who came in on the first day of camp as scared, tired, sick and weak cancer patients, get back on those buses and leave as rejuvenated, stronger, happier and laughing children — not as cancer patients, but children as they should be. This was entirely due to the time and effort put in by the staff and volunteers at Kids Cancer Care. I always wanted to go back to the camp as both a camper and eventually a camp counsellor, but life had other plans for me and it never happened.  

Tiana at Spruce Meadows

In 1999, just after my 19th birthday, I relapsed and fought through 18 more weeks of hard chemo, followed by seven weeks of “lighter” radiation. I knew how to reach out to other patients now because of my experiences at Camp SunMaker, so it was easier for me to deal with it this time. I even managed to keep my status as a part time college student during my chemo treatment, thanks to things I was taught at the camp. After college, I began to work, and you know that you never get to go back to your youth, once you start that first post-graduate work — but I always wanted to. 

Over the years, I have lost friends and family to this relentless nemesis called cancer, but thanks to people like Christine McIver and all the people involved with her vision of Kids Cancer Care, I developed new confidence and skills to cope with these issues and I learned how to face each battle. I developed a support network of other cancer kids to talk to for support by being at Camp SunMaker for ONE WEEK! Now Kids Cancer Care has their own camp site and there are so many new programs for all ages happening on a regular basis! I can only imagine how strongly supported today’s cancer kids and their families feel. With Kids Cancer Care, they now have a constant beacon of light around them to help raise them above the dark waters of treatment that feel as though they are grabbing your legs and sucking you into the dark cold and the loneliness of treatment. When you are at the lowest point of treatment, blood cell counts are down, you are in low nadir, admitted to hospital, often in isolation and you can’t sleep because of the nausea and pain. Things are so weirdly quiet on the ward late at night; a person feels a sense of solitary confinement so much more during that time. Family has had to go home or to their temporary accommodations and the nurses check on you sporadically when they aren’t engaged with high critical care patients who need them a bit more often than you do at the moment. It’s just you and that damn ticking clock on the wall. But it wasn’t that way after I’d been to camp. I now had friends to think about to help me through those lonely times and I could look back on those happy memories I shared with them. Camp SunMaker taught me different ways to look at things. It even helped me to look at the things I really didn’t want to look at. This gave me the strength in myself to get through those tough surgeries and treatments. By choosing to help and counsel other patients, by teaching them what I learned and by helping them connect with the networks, I got through my own tough times. 

Tiana and her partner Colin at our Medicine Hat Bottle Drive

Today I face a different battle with cancer and thanks to those Kids Cancer Care connections, the confidence that the camp experience gave me and the tremendously unique support network to which I have access, I know I will win it in my own way. My cancer journey has been long and difficult and is now coming full circle for me. I am now 40 years old as of the writing this, and I have been diagnosed with cancer for the fifth time. Cancer is not messing around this time. Cancer wants my life, and it wants it bad. I have been diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma in the tongue, throat and lymph nodes under my left arm. The severe radiation they administered back in 2012 to save my life the last time, caused so much damage to the tissues in my neck and throat, that any potentially life-saving surgeries would likely fail. I have had so much chemotherapy that I am over lifetime dosages for most drugs. I have had enough radiation for three lifetimes. All treatment options are out. I am terminal. I am dying. But I am dying on my own terms. I know what I want. Cancer wants to take me and wear me down to that non-human looking withered husk, but I am not going to allow that to happen to me. 

Canada has the Medical Assistance in Dying (MAID) Program. I choose when I have had enough, not cancer. I win. I will die still being who I am, and a big part of who I am today, started back in 1996 when I met Christine Wandzura (McIver) and had the pleasure of experiencing her incredible vision of her son Derek’s legacy—the Kids Cancer Care Foundation of Alberta. Christine and her team use donated dollars to the very last digital penny to ensure that the children and families her organization helps, gain the skills, strength, support and confidence they need to face their cancer journey with the same fierceness and determination that I was inspired to draw on when I was 16. I had already been through treatment once before I went there, but I went through it feeling that unique sense of aloneness, like no one truly understood what I was going through. My camp experience erased that feeling, so I could fight for more time and help others do the same. Her staff not only takes care of the physical needs of the kids in their care, but they gently support these kids and their families where they need it the most — in the heart and the spirit. Without these two pieces of our souls being uplifted and nurtured, a cancer kid can’t hope to win. Sometimes we need to get away from being a cancer patient and just be a kid — camps do that, day programs do that. If you look at pictures of, or have the good fortune to attend, one of their Dad and Daughter Gala events and you get to see the happy smiles of a little girl or young lady dancing with her Dad proudly beaming down at his brave girl enjoying her special night in her fairy-tale princess gown, you will see the true magic of Kids Cancer Care and what Christine McIver started in her son’s memory so long ago. You will see true love of life and the hope of a future where kids can just be happy, healthy kids and cancer patients nevermore. The network of souls that make up the happy places these kids envision as a bright safe haven to get through the worst of times is the Kids Cancer Care Foundation of Alberta founded by Christine McIver. It is her son Derek’s legacy.  

If you have children of your own, give them a big hug tonight because a person never knows when life will change without warning and go from everyday normal to a nightmarish battle. The feelings and experiences I have shared are from my heart and I genuinely wish everyone health, happiness and inner peace in their lives. Thank you for the valuable time you have spent reading my words. 

Tiana and her partner Colin

Tiana Shoebridge passed away peacefully on July 9, 2020. She was one of our first campers. We are so appreciative of all the fundraising and awareness activities she took part in to improve the lives of children affected by cancer. She most recently supported us in our Medicine Hat Bottle Drive in 2020, which raised $15,000. We are deeply grateful to Tiana’s loving partner Colin Binding, who generously donates to our Derek Wandzura Memorial Scholarship Fund every year. Colin’s donations are used to top up scholarship awards for deserving childhood cancer patients and survivors. We call it Tiana’s Top Up and will forever hold her in our hearts. Although she is no longer with us, Tiana continues to offer hope to young people affected by cancer by helping them to pursue their dreams through post-secondary education.  

“It may take my life but it won’t take my legacy and my legacy is to take away its power by getting people to raise money and fight back by getting their stories out there.” – Tiana (Shoebridge) Binding

 

After 2 years of living with high-risk acute lymphoblastic leukemia, with more than 200 rounds of chemotherapy, and 700 days of isolation, 7-year-old Lochlan is in grade 3 but struggling to read at a grade 1 level. He is one of many courageous childhood cancer survivors who face complex, long-term late effects from the treatments that saved their lives. Sometimes the treatment affects their ability to learn and keep up at school. Realizing this, Lochlan’s mother; Melissa, turned to Kids Cancer Care for help.  

Lochlan enjoying being a chef!

Donations from supporters like you have made it possible for Kids Cancer Care’s Education Support Program to be there for Lochlan and his seemingly endless cancer journey. A gift today  will mean that we can be there for kids in the future. 

Our Education Support team identified Lochlan’s unique learning needs and matched him with Margo, a volunteer tutor. As a retired Grade 1/2 teacher with over 13 years of teaching experience and a love of reading, Margo was the perfect tutoring partner. As she developed Lochlan’s lesson plans, she took his cognitive delays, including attention and concentration issues, slower processing speed and anxiety into consideration. 

Kids Cancer Care’s Education Support team carefully matches learners and tutors to ensure learner-tutor compatibility and set them on the path to success. But Lochlan and Margo’s tutoring sessions weren’t without challenges. The sessions were virtual due to COVID-19 and Lochlan’s immunocompromised health. As such, it took Margo and Lochlan a little longer to build a connection with one another. But Margo understood the importance of fun and play in learning and incorporated Lochlan’s love of Lego into their lessons. They built a friendship over sharing their Lego masterpieces and playing games. Margo says she realized Lochlan was growing fond of her, “once he started letting me win at tic-tac-toe.” 😊 

Tutor Margo

An understanding and caring tutor can help restore confidence in a child whose schooling was toppled by cancer – and it’s donations from supporters like you that makes this new-found confidence possible. 

Once Lochlan began trusting Margo, the focus of their one-hour tutoring sessions returned to reading. Margo recognized the obstacles of teaching a child to read remotely, “You need to see what the student is seeing, look at their eyes as they’re reading and watch their finger as it’s following along with the words.” So, Margo incorporated an online reading resource, which enabled them to simultaneously view and work within the same book. It was a game changer!  

Lochlan is making great strides with his reading. His self-confidence has increased, and his anxiety has decreased through positive learning experiences. Your gift today can help cancer-stricken kids rediscover the joy of learning. 

Melissa has received a break and her anxiety over Lochlan’s reading delay has decreased, “Extra support is so imperative – drugs affect the body, brain and learning. They cause significant delays. For one hour, I get to see Lochlan engage one-to-one with a person with an education background. When I see him learning and engaging, it’s winning in my eyes.” 

Lochlan painting

By donating now, your incredible gift can renew self-esteem and confidence in young learners and provide them with a solid foundation for future success in their primary and secondary school years. 

The Education Support Program engages students, families, schools and tutors to work together to design a personalized plan for a student’s success. COVID-19 helped pivot the once in-person sessions to virtual platforms, which is expanding our geographical reach. Both in-person and virtual tutoring have been extremely successful. Lochlan and Margo met twice in person while socially distanced. Melissa says, “Lochlan remembers her visits and they have made a huge impact in his life.” 

“Lochlan has come a long way. He’s climbed a huge mountain from where he was to where he is now. He’s combatted so many things and I’m very thankful these resources exist.” – Melissa, Lochlan’s mom. 

Kids Cancer Care’s Education Support Program is in high demand. We currently have kids on a waitlist who urgently need your help. Please don’t make them wait any longer. Your caring support will provide the gift of learning to help children affected by cancer get a solid foundation in life. Please help us level the playing field to give these kids access to tutors and high-quality educational resources. Because cancer is rarely over when the treatments stop. 

Help support children like Lochlan

Every year, Kids Cancer Care awards scholarships to young people in southern Alberta who have history with cancer. The award is meant to help level the playing field for these young people who have endured so much and often face a lifetime of health problems related to the cancer treatments that saved their lives. In 2021, we awarded scholarships to 12 deserving young people who are attending post-secondary schools this fall to study in a range of fields, from engineering and health care to education, law, business, hospitality, culinary arts and fashion. These are their stories.

ALASTAIR MCLAUGHLIN 

Just six months after moving from Japan to Canada Alastair McLaughlin (A.K.A. Riki) was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Riki had to start school a year late due to treatment and had to put sports on hold, which is something he loved. Riki is fluent in three languages and will be attending the University of Calgary in business with hopes of specializing in International Business Strategy. His long-term goal is to start his own business to help Canadian businesses incorporate Japanese business culture in their work. Riki is part of Kids Cancer Care’s Teen Leadership Program and has developed a love of volunteering through this program. One of his teachers says Riki is “open-minded, curious and passionate to make a difference in the world.”

AMY GILLESPIE

When Amy Gillespie was a toddler, she was diagnosed with leukemia, but this has not stopped her from generously giving back to her community. Amy is a dedicated member of the Health Occupational Students of America Club and has volunteered at the MD Anderson Cancer Centre blood drive in Houston, Texas. Through her volunteer work with the Future Leaders of America, Amy was inspired to pursue a career in health care. She has also learned to wake surf and become fluent in Spanish. Amy is planning to attend the University of Western Ontario to earn a nursing degree with the goal of becoming a travelling physician’s assistant, specializing in oncology.
 

BRENDAN SCHMIDT 

Brendan Schmidt was recently diagnosed with aplastic anemia and is eternally grateful for his mom and sisters for supporting him during the many treatments he has endured. Brendan is active in the community, volunteering with the Mustard Seed and playing for his school’s rugby team. Whatever he takes on, he demonstrates compassion and motivation to help others. Since his diagnosis, Brendan has displayed a positive attitude, resilience and courage and he continues to set big goals for himself. Brendan will be attending the University of Victoria this September to study computer science and in his words, “get busy living.”

INOLI NISSANKA

Inoli Nissanka was diagnosed just weeks before her 18th birthday with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. She recently finished treatment and just completed her second year at the University of Calgary as a full-time student – something she didn’t think was possible when treatment first began. Inoli enjoys playing soccer and making music. She is an avid pianist and baritone saxophonist, travelling to Hawaii in grade 12 to perform with her high school band. Inoli also gives back to her community by volunteering with children affected by cerebral palsy and other disabilities. She has worked one-to-one with a child with autism and has developed creative ways to help that child accomplish their goals. Inoli plans to pursue a career in pediatric oncology as she was truly inspired by the doctors at the Alberta Children’s Hospital who helped her and her family through her cancer journey. Inoli is hardworking and self-motivated, and we all know she will do great things!

JARED HENKELMAN 

Diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia in October 2003, Jared later relapsed with the cancer forming in his central nervous system. He had the opportunity to attend Kids Cancer Care’s SunRise day camp and later to attend Family Camp at Camp Kindle. Jared enjoys mountain biking, golfing and camping. He is also a big hockey fan! Jared has been accepted into the Hospitality Management Program at SAIT and hopes to work in hotel management or in a resort setting one day.

JOSHUA SLUIJMERS

Joshua Sluijmers was diagnosed in his last year of high school with testicular cancer, which later moved into his lungs. He is actively involved in local and national politics and loves to read, exercise and listen to podcasts. He believes that young people should be involved in the political realm and make their voices heard by those in power. In high school, he served on student council, chapel singing teams and on the Lethbridge School District Student Advisory Board. He has also served on multiple political boards and been involved in numerous political campaigns. He currently serves on a church committee that strives to establish better relationships between parents and their children. Joshua has been accepted at the University of Lethbridge to do a combined degree in history, social studies and education with the goal of becoming a high school teacher. While Joshua was going through treatment, he had a teacher who mentored and supported him through parts of his cancer journey. He wants to do the same for his future students. Joshua wants to help them to see their worth and inspire them to follow their passions.

KALEB SKINNER 

Kaleb Skinner was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma at the age of nine. He is an avid volunteer and helps raise awareness about childhood cancer. He has volunteered with Canadian Cancer Society, Light the Night Walk, Ronald McDonald House and has also shaved his head for cancer, raising $2,000! Kaleb is known for his generosity in the community and within his circle of peers. He plans to travel and volunteer abroad on building projects in low-income countries. Kaleb is planning to pursue a diploma in engineering at SAIT and then transfer into a degree program.

MICHAEL MANCINI

Michael Mancini is a long-time cancer survivor, who was diagnosed with leukemia at 10 months. Michael enjoys hockey, football, basketball and playing PS4. He also supports his community by volunteering at his school and working at the local grocery store. Some of Michael’s teachers describe him as driven, a team player, responsible and always building a great rapport with others. Michael has always enjoyed being around the kitchen and eating all the amazing dishes that were created in his home when he was a child. Michael has been accepted at SAIT’s culinary program in the hopes of becoming a Red Seal Chef. One day, Michael plans to open his own restaurant, which he will call Mancini’s Authentic Italian Cuisine.

QUINN LAUDERSMITH 

Quinn Laudersmith was diagnosed with Wilms tumour at a young age. He is proud to call himself a survivor as his cancer journey presented him with many challenges that he has overcome. Quinn also maintains a positive attitude and continuously thrives to improve as a person. His close contacts describe him as thoughtful, courteous and mature for his age, but he is also kind, good natured and has a great sense of humour. Quinn has given back to the community in countless ways—raising $70,000 for Kids Cancer Care, helping seniors, serving as a cadet and canvassing for the Heart and Stroke Foundation. He enjoys everything to do with ‘avant-garde’ fashion. Historically, advanced guard in the French military referred to a small military group that scouted ahead of the main force. Quinn hopes to create a business in the men’s fashion industry that does just that—stays a head of industry. He’s jump-starting his career with a degree in business administration at Mount Royal University.    

RILEY ZIMMER 

Riley Zimmer was diagnosed with Burkitt’s lymphoma four years ago, but that hasn’t stopped him from smiling and remaining positive. Riley enjoys basketball, soccer and was a goalie in hockey. He and his family enjoy camping and going on family holidays. Riley has always felt very lucky to have the support of family and friends (and hospital staff) during his treatment. Riley is always giving back and is inspired to make a difference in his life. Not only has he been on the honour roll for three years, but he has also had the opportunity to speak at various events to raise awareness about childhood cancer. He took on a leadership role on his school’s robotics team and worked during the pandemic to build his own computer. Riley has been accepted into the University of Calgary’s engineering program.

RYANE NETHERY 

Ryane Nethery was diagnosed with Wilms tumour at the age of three and has grown up going to Kids Cancer Care’s programs. In 2019, Ryane was accepted into our Teen Leadership Program and had the opportunity to travel to Guadalajara, Mexico with the group of teens to help out at a local children’s cancer shelter and pediatric oncology hospital. Ryane was also the Kids Cancer Care spokekid in 2019 and took part in the High Hopes Challenge fundraising event in 2015. When she is not at school and giving back to the community, Ryane enjoys playing volleyball, rock climbing, mountain biking, painting and drawing. Ryane has also worked during the pandemic. She is described by her mentors as outstanding, mature, kind, considerate, committed, responsible and professional. One of her teachers says, “she is a true role model for her peers and for the younger students.” As a result of cancer-related learning issues, Ryane and her family were told that she wouldn’t graduate from high school—WELL—you showed them, Ryane. You are a shining example of what hard work and determination can do. Ryane has been accepted into Mount Royal University and is looking forward to a career in nursing.

TRISTAN JAMES 

Tristan James was diagnosed with Wilms tumour when he was 18 months old. Today, he is an active volunteer and entering his final year of law school. Tristan has a passion for doing well and for helping others. Prior to law school, he worked at a charity for three years, giving motivational speeches to inspire youth to follow their passion, volunteer, fundraise, advocate for themselves and make conscious behavioural changes. Currently president of the Law Negotiation Club at the University of Calgary, Tristan also volunteers with the Animal Justice Club, Environmental Law Society and participates on multiple sports teams, such as rugby, basketball, and more recently, golf. Tristan volunteers at Pro Bono Students of Canada, the Public Interest Law Clinic and at a human rights organization called Justice Base. But his passion for helping society doesn’t stop there; he recently applied to become a big brother with Big Brothers, Big Sisters.

The Kids Cancer Care Derek Wandzura Memorial Scholarship is an endowed fund administered by the Calgary Foundation. Learn more about our scholarship program here.

It was June 3, 2014, when we were blind-sided. Maddie, our 16-year-old daughter, had not been feeling well for a few days when she asked to be taken to the doctor. She had been vomiting with increasing regularity to the point where she could not even keep water down anymore. We left home mid-morning. Waits at the walk-in clinic led to waits at the Alberta Children’s Hospital. Waits for tests led us to waiting for results of those tests. It was around 11:00 pm when a nurse came and told us we were moving to another room. I asked why, and her response stopped me in my tracks. She said she would let the doctor explain. I remember saying out loud, “Oh, our lives are about to change.”

Maddie and her mother Leslie

The doctor’s words were, “I have bad news for you. Maddie has a brain tumour.” I said, “Thank you.” Afterall, it WAS a relief to me to finally have an answer. We had been to the same ER just two weeks before to show the doctors that Maddie’s balance was off and that her gait was off. That day they had sent us home suggesting it was likely psychological in nature. So, to now be hearing a doctor have an answer made me feel thankful. Upon hearing my thanks, he corrected me, “No, this is not good news.” I said, “I know.”

It was conclusive, our lives were about to change. 

That was the beginning and by the end, two years later, we would have a string of beads 20 feet and 3 inches long to show for the ordeal. The beads are given through a program called Beads of Courage through Kids Cancer Care. Each step of the way through childhood cancer is marked by a bead given to the patient. The beads are given to honor courage, strengthen resilience and affirm the journey through cancer. Maddie’s string tells the story of seven surgeries, five admissions to the ICU, 35 rides in an ambulance, 57 scans (including MRI, CT, and X-ray), and 146 days in hospital and many, many other events. 

Maddie outside of the hospital

What her string doesn’t tell is the sorrows and joys along the way. It doesn’t tell you how it feels to have one kid diagnosed with brain cancer and one kid diagnosed with epilepsy in the same month. The string of beads doesn’t shock you the way it shocks you when a neurosurgeon tells you that the complexity of the case is a 10 out of 10 in his line of work. Her Beads of Courage doesn’t begin to describe the fear that comes with complication after complication that kept us hospitalized for 6 months when it was predicted she would be there for only a few weeks. There is no bead for when doctors say, “Maddie will likely never walk again on her own.” Her string also doesn’t tell you how hard it is to navigate treatment for Maddie who also has a type of autism that has made her so agitated, violent and aggressive her whole life that schools have not taken her since grade four. 

Maddie in the hospital

She IS brilliant! If you want to know how brilliant she is, the answer is 133 on the IQ scale. She has read voraciously since grade one and ever since has read around 500 pages a day.  She loves everything from Judy Blume’s tales of Fudge and his family to Harry Potter to Kenneth Opel to Shakespeare. I remember the joy of hearing her laugh aloud as she read Chaucer, “the greatest English poet of the Middle Ages,” on the kitchen floor while I cooked dinner when she was just eight years old. Her love of learning was magical. She created worlds the likes of Tolkien’s. When she was creating her worlds, she would realize that every people group has a language, so she would write her own language. As she studied history, she would realize that her world needed to have a history written for it and seeing as most history involves some conflict, she would need to write about battles. But where would the weapons come from? She discovered that they would come from metals. Where do the metals come from? The answer to that would lead her to learn about geology and what kind of land formations indicate what types of metals would be found there. 

Maddie and her mother Leslie in a Quebec church

It was a joy to watch her learn. But life on the spectrum would prove very frustrating to her. School would be near impossible. The frustrations that came from seeing the world in such a different way than most people would make the next years extremely difficult. If I use the words violent and aggressive, maybe you will begin to imagine what I have decided not to detail for this story. Maybe you’ll imagine her pain. Maybe you’ll imagine how hard it was for me to keep the balance between loving her and protecting all those around her from her violent outbursts. Maybe you’ll get a glimpse if I tell you that all the top experts from across Alberta were at just as much of a loss as we were as to what to do. 

What we were about to learn through the grueling brain cancer treatment for Maddie is that good relationships are everything and that there is great value in the struggle. 

Maddie and her father David

During the early days after brain surgery, Maddie later told us, she did some hard thinking about her life. As she looked at her life, she realized she was now carrying around two heavy backpacks. One that held the pain from the past and one that held brain cancer. She knew it would be too heavy a load to carry both, so she decided to put one of them down. She decided she would have to leave behind the backpack that held the pain from the past. “Let it Go” from the movie, Frozen, would become her mantra. 

We prepared the staff at Alberta Children’s Hospital for her potential outbursts. We educated them. We warned them of what might be coming. The staff, in their usual way, dealt with Maddie with the utmost respect and thoughtfulness. They went above and beyond their job descriptions as they always do in the care they gave both Maddie and all the other patients on the oncology unit. Somehow, whether for physiological reasons related to her brain or emotional reasons related to her care, Maddie was finally ready to open up to the idea of having good relationships. She allowed nurses and doctors to touch her. She accepted their help. At age 16, she was finally ready to love. 

Maddie in the hospital

With the cancer diagnosis there seemed no end to those who were there to help her. The staff at Alberta Children’s Hospital was amazing. Same with the staff at Tom Baker Cancer Centre. Then we were introduced to Children’s Wish Foundation who cared so much that they sent our family to Ireland to buoy our spirits. Then we were connected to Kids Cancer Care who cared so much that they sent us to a production of A Christmas Carol and brought us meals. They even worked out all the details so Maddie could attend Camp Kindle, in a wheelchair, with an aid! She had never had the chance to do that in her whole life leading up to cancer. The support we were surrounded by made all the difference between, “I don’t think we can do this,” to “We came out of this better than we went into this.” The outpouring of love and care are what made all the difference. We are better for it all. All the good that came from those relationships made us appreciate the value of the struggle in life. Without the struggle we wouldn’t have those treasured relationships. 

Maddie’s celebration day for the end of 33 consecutive days of radiation treatments 

It’s been seven years since our family heard the brain tumour diagnosis. We seldom talk about all the deficits cancer and its treatments have left Maddie with. I can tell you she has learned to walk again, wobbly and unstable, but walking nonetheless, and that it took years to relearn to walk. I would also tell you that her right side is permanently damaged: complete hearing loss in her right ear and now she is left-handed due to her right hand being spastic. Her endocrine system that controls all her hormones is shot. We sure couldn’t have predicted all that cancer would leave us with. It was beyond hard. It is still hard. But we also couldn’t have predicted Maddie’s healed heart, her newfound trust in humanity, and her willingness to love and be loved. It has all come from the gift of people deciding to care for us. We made it through because of the love we received. It’s true what they say about life being unpredictable but that’s just as true for the good stuff as for the hard stuff. And life has made us very grateful for the good stuff that comes our way. 

Thank you to our generous fundraising partners who make our programs and services possible