Our friend Stacey was diagnosed with Stage 3 3B High Grade Ovarian Cancer late in September of 2021. It was post-vaccine Covid and just before her son Connor turned 4. He woke up to 50 balloons in his living room, the sort of over- the- top celebratory gesture in line with her general proclivity toward aesthetic superiority. She attended his outdoor birthday party with the burden that it might be be the last one he would have with her. She thought it might be… he had no idea.

Those of us who knew watched her watch her little boy have the time of his life. We watched her soak up every giggle and jump grasping the substance of every moment. She hosted and smiled as she always did not wanting to puncture a hole in his childhood before she needed to. We watched him with the knowledge that this year, at four years old he would be faced with a reality generally reserved for adulthood. We suppressed our tears long enough to support the subterfuge, would cry the moment we were alone, imagining what she was holding on to.

Shortly after that she went in for a 12 hour surgery, it was both exploratory and operative. She joked that she didn’t know what parts she would come out with. The countless people who love and care about her were texting one another to plan meal drop offs, babysitting schedules and to hear if maybe there had been an update. Finally, late that night her husband Rob texted. The surgery was a success. No one really knew what that meant but it was good news.

Her recovery was as graceful as it was grueling. She kept her sense of humour and anthropomorphized her huge scar, hilariously weaponizing it for the queasier of her friends. She recovered faster than expected due to her physical strength and the sheer stubborn tenacity that characterizes her, which is a polite way of saying she’s always been a tough, no- nonsense bitch.

Chemo was hard on her and her family. She moved in with her parents while Rob, Nathan, and Connor stayed in their house that had been partially gutted for renovation just before her diagnosis, because Cancer alone was too easy a task for her. They drove back and forth to see her and take to appointments. She did her course and the following March she rang the bell. The sound of hope that resonates through Princess Margaret Hospital when someone completes treatment. She was officially in remission.

Her hair grew back but she kept a pixie cut for the summer because how could she not? She looked so freaking good! She was back to life, Pilates, flower arranging, and busting balls at work -this time armed with ‘Stage 3 wisdom’. She got rid of all the fancy cashmere hats she had because she didn’t need them anymore and someone else could use a little warm luxury. It was an optimistic time despite the knowledge that Ovarian Cancer is vengeful and pernicious.

In August 2024 there was a recurrence. A blow that makes you consider getting through the hardest time of your life, releasing a sigh of relief when it’s over only to be told you have to go do it all over again, and again with the dark irony that each agonising ‘again’ equates to the greatest blessing. She went through treatment, again this time with a little more swagger but also a little more unease as the immutability of situation creeped in. She stayed busy with family, friends, work, and taking it upon herself to become a medical encyclopedia. She travelled to Germany for treatment, a huge physical, financial, and administrative burden but she had to match the high stakes with high effort.

Scans this past June showed that Cancer is still active in her body. This, in addition to the busy life of a working professional with a young family (as well as the overlooked, expensive and time- consuming adjunctive therapies) was making every part of her life a huge task. The boulder her and family had been carrying up the mountain was becoming untenable. It was time to prioritize life in a different way. She would have to commit all her Type -A energy into keeping herself alive – literally, spiritual, and mentally.

She and Rob have taken time from their busy careers to prioritize this existential project. A project that is a full-time job to be sure. One that pays uncertain dividends in metaphysical currencies. Currencies that are more valuable than the gold standard but are far less practical when bills must be paid.

We hope to raise $ 30,000 practical dollars to help Stacey and Rob get through this period financially. There is no pause button on expenses when you have Cancer and it comes with many additional costs that are not covered by our health care system. Let's all support Stacey and her family so that they can take the next few months to be together and get her to optimal health.