A childhood friend of mine committed suicide recently—way too young, and way too soon—leaving an inexplicable void for everyone around her. A reality that makes me want to scream into a pillow at the top of my lungs. But it won’t change anything.

Her passing brings with it a great deal of confusion.

It also brings with it a tremendous sense of urgency—a feeling I’m already familiar with.

I was personally diagnosed with a rare and aggressive cancer called sarcoma (synovial sarcoma), and went through the full suite of treatments including multiple rounds of chemotherapy, radiotherapy, and a 10-hour limb-salvage surgery in which I had no idea if I would wake up, and in what state. This time last year, I had no idea if I would be able to keep my leg or if I would still be alive today. 

I was told that my chance of getting sarcoma was 1 in a million—that I’d have more luck getting struck by lightning or winning the lottery.I am one of the 2024 statistics who survived. Nearly half of the women diagnosed with sarcoma that year died. The statistics are no more promising for men. It's even worse for children. 15% of children with cancer have sarcoma, compared to 1% of adults.

Almost 50 years after Terry Fox, who died of it and underwent an amputation, amputation is still often proposed as a first-line treatment, and research hasn't really progressed since.

On the Island of Montreal, in the major sarcoma centers, no one wanted to perform surgery on me—except for one person. My surgeon is the only one who decided to take that risk.

I’m my family doctor’s first patient with sarcoma, and the other two who had it at this clinic died from it, both at a very young age.

I'm alive, against all odds. It took months for me to learn how to walk again normally. I think about the next Julie-Anne who also trains for the Vancouver Marathon for months and is told that her array of symptoms will pass with time, to wait, and that it's probably running injuries. The one who waits almost 2 years for a diagnosis, which arrives by pure chance, and not through medical investigation. I hope the next Julie-Anne will have a quick diagnosis, not by pure chance, but because general medical staff are more familiar with this, and because the general population is more familiar with it. I also hope that amputation will not be offered as a first-line treatment.

As I celebrate my birthday for the first time in remission since last year, when I was still undergoing treatment, my 35th birthday, in just a few days, is more than just an annual celebration; it's an act of resistance, and a victory for my loved ones and me. Sarcoma did not win.

A true underdog, sarcomas unfortunately win way too often and are underfunded and under-researched because they aren’t profitable. This leaves patients facing a grim outlook and poor survival odds.

I was told many times to go to fancier, less outdated hospitals, yet the only person who wanted to perform surgery on me was at Maisonneuve-Rosemont Hospital.

The expertise, in my case, was there.

For my 35th birthday, I would like to ask for your help in helping me raise $3,500 and support the Foundation of HMR in getting closer to its 2023-2024 goal of $4 million (only $700,000 remaining).

I only need 35 people with a heart of gold who would like to donate $100.

I only need 50 people with a heart of gold who would like to donate $70.

I only need 100 people with a heart of gold who would like to donate $35

Or people with a heart of gold who would like to donate whatever they want. :)

Not for me, but for others who have and will have to deal with this less known and under-researched cancer.

I want to thank you in advance for your kindness and generosity.

In honor of my childhood friend who passed away, I leave you all with a word that can resonate with you however you want: Kindness.

A little reminder for your interactions with these other amazing humans, acquaintances and strangers..

For the people who have influenced your path—now and in the past, a little or a lot—for the people you love and who love you so much, send a text, call once in a while, ring the doorbell, go to dinner with them, because you never know what’s happening behind a smile or a silence.

Julie-Anne XOX