by Jacqueline Chartier

The Risks of Playing Your Life Safe and Other Lessons from Cancer Survival

You have one shot at life and there is no dress rehearsal. 

It’s been documented that when dying people express regret, it’s usually over the things they did not do during their lifetime rather than the things they actually did. When we attempt to organize our lives around avoiding emotional pain, we often eschew many of the very things that make life meaningful. The truth is intimacy requires vulnerability. Personal growth requires discomfort. Loving other people brings the possibility of loss. Speaking honestly risks rejection or disapproval. Ultimately, trying something new almost always involves accepting the reality that we might fail. 

Before my cancer diagnosis, I would often avoid difficult conversations and would try to keep myself occupied so I wouldn’t have to think about my emotions. A smaller world always felt safer to me—there were fewer risks and fewer difficult feelings to face. Now, to my regret, I realize it also meant fewer deep relationships, fewer adventures, and fewer chances to discover what I’m capable of, 

Be mindful of life’s beauty and remember to be in the moment.

I’ve learned it’s all right to pause in our hyper-accelerated culture, I’m allowed to take a break when I’m feeling worn-out. My new normal has also taught me I don’t need material things to make me happy, and that family and friends are to be treasured. But perhaps the most valuable lesson I’ve acquired so far during my cancer journey is that life is all too fleeting.

Jon Kabat-Zinn pioneered using mindfulness with cancer patients and other groups battling chronic pain or illness at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. Mindfulness is basically just a technique that allows us to pay attention, a way of awakening our minds and being present in the here and now. With principles found in Buddhism, mindfulness teaches us to live moments in each day rather than focusing on what might lie ahead.

Acceptance and letting go are crucial components of mindfulness. A philosophy of mindfulness encourages us to come to terms with our life, even difficult experiences such as a cancer diagnosis. Acceptance simply means seeing things as they are in the present. Mindfulness doesn’t require that you must like your situation—you don’t necessarily have to assume a passive attitude toward suffering or life’s unfairness. However, you must come to terms with things as they are and acknowledge them, whether it’s a diagnosis of cancer or the possibility of its recurrence in the future.

Your closest relationships should enrich you, not diminish you.

I’ve discovered that friendships and other kinds of relationships change. Moving on from a personal or professional relationship doesn’t mean it wasn’t important; it just means that it no longer serves you. I’ve come to realize that you don’t have to feel guilty about setting boundaries or removing toxic people from your life. It doesn’t matter whether someone is a relative, romantic interest, employer, childhood friend or a new acquaintance—you don’t have to make room for people who cause you pain or make you feel small. 

Psychologists have observed that a cancer diagnosis is for most people a major life event, mentally we tend to divide our life into before and after we had cancer. For me it’s been like that, in many ways I feel as if I was given a clean slate or a new beginning. Becoming ill with cancer has required me to both analyze and redefine the relationships I have with those closest to me. In many cases I’ve had to set new boundaries, as I will no longer tolerate toxic or unhealthy relationships. Some personal and business relationships that I had before are finished, as a rule I no longer remain in contact with people who were unable or unwilling to support me throughout my cancer journey. 

Now that I’m a cancer survivor, I’ve become more sensitive to the characteristics of toxic people and how they mistreat others. I choose to avoid them whenever possible, meanwhile I set boundaries and keep my composure when I’m in situations in which I must associate with them. A toxic relationship may involve a relative, a friend, your boss, or a work colleague. The harmful individual likely demonstrates at least some of the following characteristics:

  • Nothing you can say or do is good enough.
  • They comment on your smallest flaw or perceived imperfection.
  • They drag up your past and won’t allow you to grow or be different. 
  • They act like they are flawless and never make mistakes.
  • They leave you feeling guilty and ashamed of who you are.
  • They are critical, controlling and don’t think about your needs.
  • They violate your boundaries and never respect no.

Since surviving a life-threatening illness, protecting my peace has become more important—especially as I grow older.

by Jacqueline Chartier

Vulnerable Groups and Cancer Patients Desperate Under Government Cutbacks

“We are all in this world together, and the only test of our character that matters is how we look after the least fortunate among us. How we look after each other, not how we look after ourselves. That’s all that really matters.” 

— Tommy Douglas

My heart broke recently as I once again witnessed the Alberta government’s brutal cruelty toward the most vulnerable individuals in society, including those with disabilities and low-income cancer survivors.

To put it bluntly the Alberta government’s right-wing regressive policies have contributed to a tragic suicide, an incident that has been met with both sorrow and outrage. Bruce Johnson was 57. He had lived with severe mental health challenges since age 10. For almost 30 years, he received Assured Income for the Severely Handicapped, Alberta’s disability support program. 

The assistance helped Johnson survive, although, as with the majority of AISH recipients, it provided just enough to scrape by—not enough to be financially secure in today’s economy. AISH paid Johnson $1,940 a month. However, Statistics Canada’s poverty line for a single person in a city like Calgary or Edmonton sits above $2,200 a month. 

Bruce Johnson wasn’t living comfortably; he was clinging to the edge. Then, the Alberta government sent out a callous form letter to thousands on social assistance. Beginning July 1, 2026, Johnson would be moved from AISH to a new program called the Alberta Disability Assistance Program, or ADAP. His monthly support would drop by $200, to $1,740. And he might be required to participate in employment programs and job searches, or risk losing support entirely. No increase for cost of living, instead the exact opposite. 

So, here was a man who’d struggled with mental illness since childhood. A man who’d already tried employment and knew his limits. A vulnerable person already living below the poverty line who was now told he would receive less but would be expected to do more to keep it. Bruce Johnson attempted to push back. He wrote to the government, to media, to advocates. He tried reaching out to anyone who might care enough to listen.

Yes, Johnson had mental health issues, but it was the fact the province was making his already intolerable life more unliveable that drove him over the edge. On June 8, Alberta RCMP responded to a fatal fire at a home in the Village of Empress. It was Bruce Johnson’s home. “The Alberta Government kicked me in the teeth with the introduction of ADAP,” he had written in a final message. “Just something that has finally pushed me to end everything.”

Johanson, a person who was desperate wrote to his government. He told them exactly what their policy was doing to him. And when he was gone, they used a spokesperson and called it a tragedy as if misfortunes just happen, as if no one in power made the decisions that led to this event. The government’s response was a press release. Kind of like the “thoughts and prayers” spouted by officials in our neighbours to the south every time there’s a major tragedy there.

Minister of Community and Social Services Nathan Neudorf expressed his condolences, but he declined an on-camera interview. HIs official statement didn’t acknowledge any connection between Bruce Johnson’s death and the government policy changes that Johnson himself mentioned as the reason he could not go on. Meanwhile, Premier Danielle Smith was conveniently unavailable for comment.

What should disgust and infuriate any compassionate human being is how the Alberta government chooses to spend its revenue, not on healthcare, education or social services. On October 19, 2026, Alberta will hold a pointless referendum. Administering this referendum is projected to cost taxpayers up to $100 million. And yet there is somehow $200 less a month for Bruce Johnson and other Albertans in his same situation. 

“This isn’t a budget miscalculation. This isn’t a tragic oversight. This is a choice,” emphasizes Calgary-based philanthropist and entrepreneur, Arlene Dickinson. “It’s a deliberate declaration of who matters and who does not. We are not bystanders; we are concerned citizens.”

Dickinson is calling on Albertans to take steps in opposing Premier Danielle Smith’s barbaric policies. “Bruce Johnson had a voice and he used it, and no one in power listened. The people who will be hurt by this transition are already exhausted from fighting to be seen. They shouldn’t have to fight alone.”

“We can be bystanders. We can scroll past this, feel briefly sad, and go about our day. Or we can be engaged citizens and people who understand that a government’s budget is a moral document, and that silence in the face of injustice is its own kind of moral answer,” pleads the well-known businesswoman in her call to action,

“Please. Call your MLA. Write to Minister Nathan Neudorf at the Ministry of Assisted Living and Social Services. Write to the Premier. Tell them you know what Bruce Johnson wrote. Tell them you are watching. Tell them that a government willing to spend $100 million on a separatist referendum while cutting disability supports below the poverty line does not get to call itself a government that protects its people.”  

by Jacqueline Chartier

Embracing Life: Holly Butcher’s Powerful Last Message

In January 2018, a 27-year-old Australian woman passed away from a rare form of bone cancer. Holly Butcher had asked her family to share the final letter she wrote on her deathbed. When they fulfilled her request, Holly’s poignant last words quickly went viral across social media.

“It’s a strange thing knowing you’re going to die young.
At 26, I thought I had time…
To fall in love.
Start a family.
Grow old.

But cancer doesn’t care about plans.

Now, I understand how fragile life really is. Every single day is a gift, not a guarantee.

I’m not writing this to scare you. I’m writing to remind you: really live.

Stop stressing over little things. Be kind to your body—move it, nourish it, stop criticizing it. One day you’ll wish you had appreciated it.

Go outside.
Look at the sky.
Feel the sun.
Just be.

Spend less time chasing “stuff”— more time making memories. Don’t skip moments with people you love.

Laugh more.
Write a note.
Tell someone you love them.

Complain less.
Give more.
Helping others brings more joy than anything you can buy.

Be present.
Put your phone down.
Show up-—really show up.

You don’t need to have it all figured out. You don’t need a perfect body, or a perfect life.

Just follow what makes your heart light up. Say no to what drains you. Make changes when you need to. 

And please—donate blood. I wouldn’t have had that extra year without it. And that year gave me memories I’ll hold close… forever.

Thank you for reading this.
Live your life well.
And maybe… we’ll meet again someday.”

Holly

Every time I read Holly’s words, I’m reminded that when I became a patient at the cancer centre, I expected to see hopeless and dispirited people. People facing life-threatening diagnoses, families falling apart, anxiety and despair in the waiting rooms. But to my astonishment, my experience was quite the reverse. Some of the mentally strongest people I’ve ever met were the ones sitting beside me in those waiting rooms and infusion chairs. Patients with diagnosis that I thought should devastate them were calmly joking and making small talk with the nurses. Others were holding their loved one’s hand through the grueling chemotherapy cycles or making possible end of life plans that they knew had to be prepared.

As I observed, I became amazed by the fact that most of them weren’t in denial. They weren’t pretending. Instead, their cancer diagnosis had given them clarity that most of us never develop. I understand now that for us cancer patients, it’s as if the noise of everyday life has been placed in the background. What’s left is gratitude, presence, humour and a kind of fierce love for the things in life that we used to ignore.

I don’t believe that a cancer diagnosis is what ultimately makes a person wise, it simply strips away from you the trivial, the mundane and much of what isn’t. Like Holly Butcher, people confronting the end of their time on earth often become the wisest voices— the voices we should all listen to. Indeed, the most crucial lesson you can learn from them is that you don’t need to wait for a serious illness or a major life crisis to live your life more fully. 

by Jacqueline Chartier

Does Ovarian Cancer Finally Have a Brighter Future?

A More Accurate Blood Test

Some of the most promising new research in Canada is being done by Dr. Christopher Mueller, a scientist at Queen’s University, and Sydney Shepherd, a PhD student working in his lab. Together, they’re studying mDETECT, the simple blood test that looks for DNA changes to help find and track ovarian cancer.

Mueller and Sheperd have focused their research on a recent breakthrough in oncology. Specifically, the liquid biopsies being developed by mDETECT a genomics company based in Kingston Ontario. The company is known for the development of highly sensitive blood tests that detect six of the most common cancers (breast, prostate, lung, ovarian, pancreatic and colorectal).

The standard blood test currently used to screen for ovarian cancer is known as CA-125. However, the effectiveness of the CA-125 test has long been questioned, as there is a significant need for a more reliable and precise method of detection. First, while elevated CA-125 levels can indicate the presence of ovarian cancer, this marker is not specific to the disease. There are numerous other conditions that can cause a rise in CA-125, many of which are not cancer-related. Moreover, some people with ovarian cancer, including myself, may not have elevated CA-125 levels.  

DNA methylation patterns give a clearer and more reliable sign of cancer, “Our test specifically is looking at DNA methylation looking for almost these little flags on the DNA that are telling us that there’s a cancer signal or not,” explains Sheperd. “What we’ve seen is that our test is a lot more accurate than CA-125.”

Also encouraging is that Mueller confirms that mDETECT will be useful for monitoring patients post-treatment and detecting recurrence. “I can say from our lung cancer tests that we can see things six months or more in advance of CT scans. It’s the same technology that we apply to early detection for other cancers, with the caveat that we’re still probably a couple of years away from offering it to the public.”

So even though it’s still being tested, the technology could soon help find ovarian cancer coming back early, like it currently does in lung and breast cancer. “Success for this project means validating our tests in our real-world population,” articulates Mueller. “In this case, it’s all about identifying whether the patients that we’re looking at really do have ovarian cancer or not and can we differentiate them from patients who have other symptoms.”

A More Detailed Ultrasound

Meanwhile, there’s another study underway in my home city of Calgary, Alberta that may prove beneficial for more accurately diagnosing ovarian cancer. Traditional grey-scale ultrasounds have limitations to how much detail they can provide; it’s why patients are often sent for further tests like MRI or CT scans. But contrast enhanced ultrasound (CEUS), a relatively new imaging technique, uses minuscule bubbles and a contrast agent that is injected into a patient’s bloodstream to interact with the ultrasound waves to then produce more detailed images. The contrast agent improves the clarity, reliability and functionality of traditional ultrasound scans. 

To date, CEUS has led to improved cancer diagnosis and has been widely approved for liver and kidney imaging but not yet for other organs, like ovaries. Although it shows a lot of promise for earlier malignant detection, fewer follow-up appointments and overall better care for women with pelvic masses, CEUS for ovarian lesions has not yet been fully evaluated. 

Dr. Stephanie Wilson and her team at the Foothills Medical Centre are filling this need. Wilson is leading a pilot project to showcase the benefits of CEUS for ovarian lesions and is hopeful gynecologic oncologists will recognize the impact and use the technique more readily. “We want to look at the new application of these proven benefits of CEUS and apply them to the ovary,” she says.  

Wilson’s department performed 25,000 CEUS scans between 2010 and 2022, and in the last year, she’s been using CEUS for patients with ovarian pathology. She explains that it’s a way to know whether a pelvic mass is benign. A benign ovarian mass is avascular, meaning there’s no blood flow. As a result, when a lesion is benign, the microbubbles used in CEUS cannot enter the mass. However, if a lesion is potentially malignant, the microbubbles will appear in the CEUS imaging and light up the lesion

“If we can confirm that something is benign, then we can reduce the amount of unnecessary follow-ups,” explains Wilson. “Although we cannot always tell with absolute confidence [if a mass is malignant], CEUS improves detection and characterization of malignant features. And the goal, of course, is expedited care.” 

by Jacqueline Chartier

2026 Finding Peace Amid the Chaos

Prayer for Uninteresting Times

Send me a slow news day,
a quiet subdued day,
in which nothing much happens of note,
save for the passing of time, 
the consumption of wine, 
and a rerun of Murder She Wrote.

Grant me a no news day, 
a spare-me-your-views day.
in which nothing much happens at all,
except a few hours together
some regional weather,
a day we can barely recall.

Brain Bilston


In a year that has already commenced with unrelenting headlines and breaking news, the desire for uneventful days is quietly powerful. As I face a chaotic world and uncertain new year, I feel a yearning for slower moments, for the gentle routine of an ordinary day,The unending march of technological advancements, coupled with the political and economic turbulence that has come to define the twenty-first century, can feel exhausting. For those of us who’ve survived cancer, confronting a constant barrage of war, human suffering, and authoritarianism is especially daunting. The challenges of recovery and resilience are compounded by the pace of change and uncertainty in the world at large. 

The longing for uneventful days is, for me, a search for stability and comfort, a quiet plea to be allowed a moment of stillness in the whirlwind. Sometimes, finding peace—however fleeting—becomes an act of courage. As we begin this year, I’d like to offer some advice to cancer survivors who may be feeling particularly overwhelmed by their personal challenges while living with the stress and confusion of the existing world order. 

First, remember to take frequent breaks from social media as well as from television and other legacy media news. A social media break involves temporarily reducing or eliminating the use of social platforms to improve mental health, reduce anxiety, and boost focus. Some studies have revealed that 3–7 days off from social media can significantly lower stress, FOMO (fear of missing out), and depression while fostering better in-person connections and improved sleep. 

A 2022 research study asked 154 participants (average age of 29.6 years) to either stop using social media for one week (Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok) or to continue using it as usual. The group who took a break from social media experienced significantly reduced anxiety and depression, along with greater well-being. Among university students, one study of 555 participants showed that a one-week break from social media meaningfully decreased stress levels, especially for people who used it excessively.

Another important rule is to direct your attention toward aspects of life that are within your control. It’s easy to become preoccupied with situations or individuals that lie outside your sphere of influence, especially when the world feels chaotic and unpredictable. This tendency can be particularly pronounced for those of us diagnosed with cancer, as the experience brings most of us intense feelings of helplessness and uncertainty.

Throughout my own cancer journey, I’ve learned that the only true authority I possess is over myself—my thoughts, my actions, and my reactions. When I consciously focus on what I can manage I feel more powerful and at peace, The fundamental paradox for me is that I’m sometimes in chaotic situations where I feel a sense of power, combined with courage and self-assurance. It’s as if I’m standing in life’s category 5 hurricane and remaining steadfast and unbroken.

Finally, to find inner peace amid chaos it’s important to keep your mind on the present moment and not dwell on things that have already occurred or that might happen in the future. If you start paying attention to where your mind is throughout the day, you’ll find that considerable amounts of your time and energy are expended in clinging to life’s memories or regretting unfortunate things that have already happened and that are over. You’ll also discover that excessive energy is expended in anticipating, planning, worrying and fantasizing about the future and what you want to happen or don’t want to happen.

I’ve learned that one of the best ways to quiet my mind and focus my attention is a technique called mindfulness. Jon Kabat-Zinn pioneered using this method with cancer patients and other groups battling chronic pain or illness at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. Mindfulness is basically just a way of paying attention, a way of awakening our minds and being present in the here and now. With principles found in Buddhism, mindfulness teaches us to be fully aware of moments in each day rather than focusing on what might lie ahead.

by Jacqueline Chartier

How Cancer Has Given Me a Better Life: Finding Unexpected Positivity

Although it may seem rather unbelievable, my experience with cancer has brought about important and positive transformations in my life. Confronting my diagnosis of ovarian cancer has compelled me to reconsider my priorities and direct my attention towards what is truly important. Through this awful journey, I’ve discovered unexpected sources of hope and gratitude.

First, the stark reality of being a cancer survivor has allowed me to develop a deeper appreciation for every moment. I’ve learned to truly savour the small joys that each day offers, whether it’s a peaceful walk, a good laugh, or a quiet evening at home. I appreciate little things I used to take for granted, a hot shower, sleeping in my own bed and not at the hospital, watching the sun set over the Rocky Mountains on a crisp autumn evening. Cancer is a life-altering experience, something that has increased my gratitude for the important people in my life and taught me to value the present more than ever before.

My journey through cancer has certainly, on occasion, drawn me closer to my family and friends. I honestly treasure the people who have chosen to remain with me through my cancer ordeal. Today I have fewer acquaintances, but deeper connections with a small number of friends and family members. There have been seemingly unbearable moments when their support has been a source of strength. Together, we’ve navigated shared challenges and had some honest, heartfelt conversations. These experiences have strengthened our bonds, helping us to grow closer and understand one another more deeply. 

Moreover, receiving a cancer diagnosis has taught me valuable lessons in resilience and patience. I’ve discovered many inner strengths that I didn’t realize I possessed, and I’ve become more empathetic towards others who are facing difficulties. When you are first diagnosed with cancer there are moments when you feel your world is spinning out of control. The fundamental paradox for me now is that I’m often in situations where I feel a sense of power, combined with courage and self-assurance. It’s as if I’m standing in life’s Category 5 hurricane and remaining steadfast and unbroken. 

I’ve noticed that trivial activities no longer appeal to me, nor do those people who engage in a shallow lifestyle or value such things. My social circle has gotten smaller, as I find I have little in common with those who pursue material wealth over spiritual growth. While I recognize that material wealth isn’t inherently bad, I’ve acquired a distain for consumerism. 

Like many people dealing with cancer I’ve sometimes felt isolated from those not going through a similar experience. Relatives, friends and acquaintances mean well, but they’re unable to fully empathize or to understand certain aspects of what I’m going through. Many cancer survivors will attest to the fact that there are times when they are surrounded by people and still feel very alone. This type of emotional isolation occurs when you discover that you can no longer relate to people in the same way you did before. 

Things that were important to you in the past are no longer important to you, and your friends and family don’t understand why you have changed so much. I’ve noticed that the books I read, the movies or television that I watch and the activities that I like to participate in have all changed a fair amount since my cancer diagnosis, so have the topics that I prefer to discuss. This transformation has affected my personal relationships and how I feel about those closest to me.

Similarly, my journey has inspired me to become more intentional about self-care and mindfulness. I now make it a priority to check in with myself emotionally and physically, setting aside time for reflection, meditation, and activities that nurture my well-being. These practices have allowed me to find peace even during periods of uncertainty and have reinforced the importance of living authentically.

Ultimately, as a cancer survivor the opinions of others no longer matter as much to me. There’s true freedom in no longer trying to impress people with what I own of how I look. I’m more able to be myself, be authentic, I have the strength of character to let others think what they will about my personal choices and lifestyle, I now realize that I’m not in this world to always please those around me. Furthermore, I’m no longer focused on competition, which can often give rise to greed or envy.

by Jacqueline Chartier

Earning My Graduate Degree in Cancer Survivorship

Receiving a major cancer diagnosis can feel like it shatters one’s world, changing everything that once seemed stable or certain. As a cancer survivor, I sometimes mentally divide my life into before and after ovarian cancer struck me 13 years ago. The brutal truth is that none of us escape cancer unscathed, it’s a life-changing and life-altering disease. 

There’s a quiet irony in the phrase “cancer survivor,” as if surviving were a single moment rather than a continual process. The reality is that cancer survivorship starts at diagnosis and encompasses the physical, social, and economic aspects from diagnosis to the end of life. From this perspective my survivorship began that moment in my gynecologist’s office when he told me the devastating details of my pathology report. 

Simply being diagnosed with cancer made me a survivor, I didn’t have to wait until after I had completed a full year of treatment or until I was officially in remission. Before the surgeons cut into my body, and before the first drop of chemotherapy solution ran ominously into my veins, I was already a survivor in the eyes of the cancer community. I appreciate now that I’ll always be part of this incredible, strong and resilient group.

Metaphorically, my journey through survivorship has granted me membership to an exclusive club with a hard-earned diploma. I’ve come to value this credential as strongly as I do my degrees in English literature and journalism. Unlike my academic degrees, this was a curriculum I never signed up for, but one that insisted on my attendance day after day. 

Looking back, the lessons were challenging and rarely straightforward. As I commenced treatment, there were semesters of anxiety, and endless days spent waiting for my test results. I ultimately underwent three surgeries and received chemotherapy, meanwhile there were pop quizzes in patience, and essays written in the currency of tears and sleepless nights. My education wasn’t theoretical but lived, and every stage demanded a new set of strengths I never thought I possessed.

At one point during my cancer treatment, I faced life-threatening complications—a situation that resulted in a hospital stay of over 40 consecutive days. Within those hospital walls, I found myself adapting, learning to anchor hope amid the tempest of uncertainty. The syllabus included chapters on vulnerability, sudden courage, and the unexpected generosity of others.

Unlike my previous diplomas that were earned in university lecture halls, my rigorous studies took place at the cancer centre, in hospital rooms and waiting areas. This time, the faculty included compassionate nurses, gifted oncologists, fellow survivors, and loved ones who refused to let me give up when the coursework became overwhelming. 

I remember fellow patients sharing their stories in waiting rooms, and those people who showed up with gentle words or silent companionship. For me, cancer transformed the ordinary into the profound: peaceful afternoons and cups of coffee became rituals of comfort, a sunrise outside my window became a daily affirmation that I had made it through another night.

There were semesters of loss—especially of certainty, of the illusion that I could control the future. But alongside grief grew an unexpected determination. Small acts—walking the hospital corridor, eating half a meal, managing a smile—became victories worth celebrating. I learned to accept help and to relinquish the stoic armour that once defined me. My education in survivorship was collaborative, communal, and deeply personal.

Along the way, I’ve discovered hidden qualities within myself. I’ve been forced to confront vulnerability, to sit with fear, and eventually to find a kind of peace within unpredictability. These lessons were written not in textbooks, but in the margins of my days and in the faces of those who walked alongside me—even if only for a brief stretch of the journey.

With every surgery and every hurdle, my concept of survivorship expanded beyond the physical, weaving itself into my identity in subtle, indelible ways. Over time, I’ve discovered that surviving cancer is not about returning to who I was before, but about learning to live fully—diploma or not—amid the aftershocks, with newfound courage as my credential.

by Jacqueline Chartier

Cruel and Unusual Punishment: The Impact of Danielle Smith’s Policies


I’m appalled that Premier Danielle Smith’s government is implementing certain policies that will increase the suffering of sick and vulnerable Albertans, including cancer patients. At what point does a government’s disregard for the marginalized become “cruel and unusual punishment” or almost contempt for the poor, sick and disabled?

I’m a long-term cancer survivor, understandably I have a deep connection with those in the cancer community and Albertans who must be hospitalized. Smith’s attack on public healthcare has been unending since she came to power Recent cuts have included limiting food services for outpatients using Alberta hospitals and treatment facilities. Patients visiting the emergency department and oncology patients having chemotherapy in short stay units are now being asked to bring their own food or money for purchasing some. 

At first, this government policy was even going to be implemented at the Alberta Children’s Hospital for pediatric cancer patients! However, as the outrage grew over “taking popsicles from cancer kids” an exception was finally made.

A woman with a young son undergoing cancer treatment posted the following on Facebook:

“After almost two years in this clinic, as our son continues to battle brain cancer, we have witnessed and experienced first-hand how a simple popsicle can calm a crying child who has just endured another needle poke, or an IV access, or a dressing change, or a lumbar puncture. A ginger ale works to calm a nauseous belly from all these chemo medications. 

How this policy passed into action, I can’t even imagine. Had they asked the nurses, the patients, the parents, maybe they would have realized they could have cut back a bit on the “meals” that often go untouched … but the popsicles? Why the ginger ale or crackers when they literally cannot stomach anything else? Don’t take away this small and sweet piece of joy to these unlucky kids enduring hell… find something else to pick on. Us Oncology families are dealing with enough.”

While Danielle Smith’s government is undermining public healthcare and basic comforts like food services for cancer patients, her lack of compassion has also been evident in other ways. For low-income patients or some cancer survivors with financially disadvantage backgrounds, the only option may be to apply for provincial government assistance. If cancer treatment has left a low-income individual unable to work, or they can work, but only part-time, they will typically qualify for the Alberta government’s Assured Income for the Severely Handicapped.

The AISH allowance is less than $2000 a month, but it’s what some chronically ill or disabled Albertan’s depend on to pay rent and buy food. The federal government recently announced the Canada Disability Benefit, a new program to supplement AISH and alleviate some of the poverty endured by recipients. This was welcome news for approximately 75,000 Albertans, but Smith and her government have made a cold-hearted and morally unacceptable decision.

Our premier has chosen to “claw back” the $200 a month supplement from the federal government. With over 70,000 people on AISH, her United Conservative government stands to take in $15,400,000 a month from the money that is supposed to be lifting some cancer patients and other chronically ill Albertans a little more out of poverty. Smith argues that AISH is generous and already enough for severely disabled Albertans to live on. However, this claim is without evidence, it also doesn’t consider inflation or the rising cost of most everyday essentials like food and rent. 

The appalling news was delivered in a blunt and callous letter sent out to all AISH recipients. First, the letter confirmed the Alberta government’s intention to claw back their new benefit.

“Income from the Canada Disability Benefit will be treated as non-exempt for AISH clients, meaning that your AISH benefits will decrease by the amount of the federal CDB that you receive, With the $200 from the CDB, AISH clients will receive a total monthly government income of $1,901, which is unchanged from their current monthly AISH benefits.”

Secondly, the correspondence stipulated that people on AISH must apply for their federal benefit to ensure that Premier Smith’s government can take it!

“As a client of the Assured Income for the Severely Handicapped (AISH) program, you are required to access all sources of income for which you are eligible, including federal programs such as the Disability Tax Credit and the new Canada Disability Benefit.”

My question is whether growing public pressure will ultimately cause the Alberta government to do the right thing and allow AISH recipients to keep their supplemental income—it’s revenue they desperately need and obviously deserve. Meanwhile, critics continue to raise concerns about the potential impact of Danielle Smith’s proposed changes to many social programs. 

Beyond specific policies, I question Smith’s overall approach to social issues, too often she demonstrates her lack of empathy and understanding for the challenges faced by marginalized groups.

by Jacqueline Chartier

Advocating for Cancer Patients: Why Political Action Matters

Those of us who are facing cancer or who have a loved with the disease are likely to be experiencing the most chaotic and turbulent time of our life. The personal, social and financial burdens are enormous—during treatment every ounce of our time and energy is precious. Still, I believe that we need to try and advocate for ourselves and hold people in positions of power to account. Why should you become more politically active? Here are two important reasons why I’ve personally chosen to speak out about issues affecting cancer patients.

Political Scandals and Corruption in Healthcare

Recently, the outgoing CEO of Alberta Health Services highlighted serious allegations about the potential misuse of taxpayer money by AHS and the Government of Alberta. There are allegations that the Minister of Health, Adriana LaGrange, was involved in dictating the price that AHS was to pay for multi-million-dollar contracts, including chartered surgical facilities. It’s also alleged the minister subsequently directed AHS to cease its internal investigations and conceal the findings.

As a cancer survivor and someone who relies heavily on the public health care system, my reaction is disbelieve and complete outrage. Essentially Alberta’s UCP government is accused of funnelling over $600 million, to a key political donor and then covering it up by firing health executives who were investigating. If proven true, the size and scope of the funding involved would be unprecedented in Alberta history.

The Auditor General is currently conducting a limited review and several other investigations are underway, transparency is essential, and Albertans deserve it. Both Alberta’s New Democrats and the Alberta Medical Association have stressed that a comprehensive, independent public inquiry is needed. Meanwhile, with every new revelation in what the NDP have dubbed the “CorruptCare” scandal, the chorus calling for a public inquiry grows louder.

An inquiry, conducted under the Public Inquiries Act, would ensure a non-political and impartial investigation, allowing the public to assess health care spending and address any potential government interference. It would ultimately allow cancer patients and their families to assess an unprecedented scandal that may have potentially undermined their quality of treatment.

Misinformation and Detrimental Health Policies 

The Trump administration is a threat to healthcare, both in the United States and globally. For instance, Robert F Kennedy Jr.’s appointment as Secretary of Health and Human Services is cause for grave concern. Long before the COVID-19 pandemic, Kennedy was building up a following with his anti-vaccine nonprofit group, Children’s Health Defense, and becoming one of the world’s most influential spreaders of fear and distrust around childhood vaccination. Now President Donald Trump has chosen Kennedy to lead the Department of Health and Human Services, which regulates vaccines. 

As the secretary of the HHS, Kennedy has oversight over 11 agencies including the FDA, the CDC and the National Institutes of Health. He has frequently come under fire from both Democrats and Republicans for some of his controversial beliefs – the most contentious being his extensive history of anti-vaccine work and rhetoric. I’m especially concerned about his active stance against cancer vaccines and his efforts to undermine confidence in them. 

Kennedy has specifically focused on the HPV vaccine Gardasil. In a 2019 video posted on his Children’s Health Defense website, Kennedy called Gardasil “the most dangerous vaccine ever invented.” In truth studies have proven Gardasil is safe and that it is nearly 100 per cent effective against cancers caused by the human papillomavirus – most notably cervical cancer. 

New estimates were published last month by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The U.S. government report adds to evidence that the HPV vaccine, once called dangerous by Kennedy, is preventing cervical cancer in young women. The recent report found that from 2008 to 2022, rates for precancerous lesions decreased about 80 per cent among 20 to 24-year-old women who were screened for cervical cancer. 

HPV, or human papillomavirus, is common in the adult population. Most HPV infections cause no symptoms and clear up without treatment. But HPV also has the potential to develop into cervical cancer as well as some other forms of malignancy, thousands of cases a year, according to the CDC. Women in their 20s are the group most likely to have been given the Gardasil vaccine, which has been recommended in the U.S. since 2006 for girls and since 2011 for boys.

HPV vaccine, including Gardasil, is currently free in Canada for certain ages and groups of people through publicly funded programs. It’s also available for purchase privately. All provinces and territories currently offer the vaccine for free through school-based programs and catch-up programs. In Alberta, students in grade 6 receive the HPV vaccine as part of the school immunization program.

by Jacqueline Chartier

Cancer as a Loaded Gun and Other Metaphors

Over a decade has passed since I last underwent surgery or had chemotherapy, in many ways my ordeal has become a distant memory, a blur of hospitalizations, trips to the cancer centre and having my life completely upended. Only about half of women with ovarian cancer live beyond five years, fewer still become cancer free. Yes, I’m one of those fortunate ones. However, I still don’t believe in the term “cured” to describe the status of my ovarian cancer, I will only say that I”m in remission or NED (no evidence of disease). 

For me the fear of recurrence is ever-present, an insidious shadow that lingers in the back of my mind. I’ve been released from the cancer centre, and I no longer visit my oncologist for regular assessments. Still, I’m constantly reminded of the fragility of my remission by every ache, every medical scan, and every follow-up visit to my family physician. This uncertainty is a heavy burden to bear. It can be like living your life on a precipice, not knowing if or when you might fall off.

Every moment of normalcy is tinged with an underlying sense of dread that the cancer might return, that the nightmare might start all over again. I’ve somehow learned to navigate life with this invisible weight, to cherish the days of health while always bracing for the possibility of illness. For me, it’s become a delicate balance between hope and fear, between trying to live fully and the anxiety that the disease could reappear at any time.

The lifelong threat of recurrence that I’ve had to accept is complicated to convey to those who’ve never had their physical health suddenly and viciously destroyed. One person graphically compared the experience to being forced to live with a loaded gun pressed against the back of your head.

“Imagine you’re going about your day, minding your own business, when someone sneaks up behind you. You feel something press up against the back of your head, as someone whispers in your ear. “Sssshhhhh…. don’t turn around. Just listen. I am holding a gun against the back of your head. I’m going to keep it there. I’m going to follow you around like this every day, for the rest of your life.”

“I’m going to press a bit harder, every so often, just to remind you I’m here, but you need to try your best to ignore me, to move on with your life. Act like I’m not here, but don’t you ever forget one day I may just pull the trigger, or perhaps I won’t. Isn’t this going to be a fun game?” 

I find this an effective metaphor for what it’s like to be diagnosed with cancer—to be living with any stage of cancer, or any type of the disease. For most survivors, remission doesn’t change the constant fear, the profound uncertainty and apprehensiveness never entirely disappear. Please, if you have friend or loved one who has ever been diagnosed with cancer, consider this fact. They may never talk about it, or they may wish to talk about it often. The most compassionate thing you can do is listen to them. They aren’t asking you to make it better; they simply want you to sit with them in their fear, their sadness, their anger, just for the moment. 

Don’t try to talk us out of the difficult emotions that we’re experiencing. That approach doesn’t help, and it will only make us believe that what we are going through is being minimized. Don’t remind us of all the good things we still have in our life, we know, and we’re grateful. But some days we’re tremendously uneasy—we feel that gun pressing ominously against us, and we need to talk about it. Offer us an ear.