How I Learned to Build a Life While Battling Cancer
I’m a mother of three, a founder, and someone who’s been living with sarcoma since June 2016.
That sentence sounds heavy because it is. But it’s also just one line of the story I’m still writing.
Here’s my story. Condensed, honest, and full of lessons I wish someone had told me sooner.
June 2016: My world crumbled when I was diagnosed with Stage II Undiffirentiated Spindle Cell Sarcoma-Right Thigh, A Localized Soft Tissue Cancer.
July 2016: First surgery to remove the tumor. Radiotherapy was advised but not immediately possible due to money and family complications.
October 2016: Devastatingly, the tumor recurred.
Jan–Mar 2017: Did Radiotherapy, but scans later showed spread to lymph nodes, reclassified as Stage III. Radiotherapy didn’t work as hoped.
June 2017: Doctors had discussed possible hip disarticulation or amputation of my right femur. A second, wide resection was done. Luckily the Doctors were able to save my leg, though a big mass of my muscles in the right leg is already gone, I am still blessed. I was in a wheelchair for 3 months, on crutches for 2 months and under Orthopedic Rehabilitation for 3 more months. I am already categorized as a Person with Disability due to my Orthopedic Disability. Next treatment, Chemotherapy.
April 2018: PET scan declared me NED (No Evidence of Disease). Chemotherapy was canceled, huge relief, but debt remained.
January 202: Pain episodes, suspicious nodules, pregnancy, monitoring, and a 0.5 cm growth.
November 2023: Recurrence and metastasis.
September 2024: I chose a life-first approach. Moved to the province, prioritized less stress, started a slow-life routine. I’m not completely NED. I live with the news and the scans, but I keep building.
What this taught me
I could give you platitudes. Instead, here are the truths I’ve learned the hard way.
1. You get to choose how cancer fits into your life
This isn’t denial. For me, that meant prioritizing healing, but also deciding not to let every scan dictate my daily joy. I’ll have to face treatment decisions again and I will, but for now I focus on what fills my cup and fuels my work.
2. Ask for help. Accept it. Repeat.
Asking was the difference between scrambling and surviving. Fundraisers, donations, kind messages, they all stayed my hand. My first surgery was done because I created a GoFundMe and sold Tshirts for a Cause. Let people help. Often they want to, they just don’t know how unless you give them a place to start.
3. Build businesses that fit your life, not the other way around
Running multiple ventures taught me to prioritize what only I can do and delegate the rest. My goal is to design businesses that bend to my life, motherhood, scans, pain days, not the opposite.
4. Boundaries are lifesaving
No. Its a complete sentence. Saying “no” became a radical self-care tool. No to the hustle that drains, yes to the work that aligns with my values and energy. No to the friends and families that criticizes you and yes to the ones who supports you even though they don't understand you.
5. Monitor, but don’t live in the waiting room
Quarterly scans are part of my reality. They’re also a space I refuse to camp in. Scanxiety is real and after a decade of dealing with this, I still have these episodes. How I try to deal with this? I plan, prepare, and then move. I create rituals after scans, coffee with a friend, a small treat for myself, to mark survival of anxiety, not just the result.
6. Small wins compound
Walking again, finishing a sales call from bed, a kid’s laugh, these matter. Celebrate them. They are the currency of a hard life.
7. Mental work matters as much as medical work
Stress was a major trigger for me. Moving to the province, slowing my days, reading, and building simple routines reduced flare-ups. Mindset practices don’t replace medicine, but they make the whole load lighter.
Practical steps for anyone walking this road
If you’re living with cancer or helping someone who is, here are bite-sized actions I used and recommend. Small systems that kept me sane and working when everything else felt shaky.
Create a care map. Names, numbers, scans schedule, who take over the kids, keep it in one place. Why it matters? When energy is low, decisions should be easy. A care map turns chaos into a simple checklist.
Energy-first schedule. Work in sprints on high-energy days. Rest hard on low-energy days. Build around your biology, not someone else’s clock. Your energy is the limited resource, protect it.
Acknowledge the grief. Grief isn’t linear. Name it. Sit with it. Ritualize it. It’s okay to mourn the “before.” Don’t rush yourself.
Find the “why” that’s bigger than fear. When chemo, scans, or bad days make strategy feel impossible, “why” is the compass. Anchor your decisions to the WHY thats bigger than your fear. For me.. my kids, my mission to help other founders, and the stubborn desire to build a legacy that outlives a diagnosis.
How this changed me and my mission
Surviving sarcoma didn’t distract from my work, it reshaped it. My mission now sits at the intersection of building brands that matter and sharing ideas how to design businesses and life that adapt to life’s curveballs.
To the person reading this who’s tired, afraid, or furious
I see you. If you’re a parent, a partner, a founder, or the one in the hospital gown.. you are still you. Your diagnosis is part of the story, not the whole book. There will be days when courage feels thin. Use whatever tools you can borrow. Community, routines, small rituals, or a trusted friend who will sit with your fear without trying to fix it.
I refuse to let this diagnosis write the ending of my story. I’m still building, step by step, heart-first.
