From Sheena: I wanted to share a more personal update with everyone who has been supporting us so generously.

I’ve now been in this cancer fight for a little over three years. I am currently on a chemotherapy drug called Enhertu, and thankfully this treatment has been going well. I’ve been very lucky not to experience severe side effects. The main things I deal with are a lack of appetite, food tasting different, and acid reflux.

My treatment is every three weeks, and I need bloodwork done before each chemo. Once I arrive at the cancer centre, the whole appointment usually takes about two hours. My next treatment is on January 13, followed by a CT scan on January 19, and then a follow-up with my palliative care doctor—who is truly incredible and such a strong advocate for me. I’m so grateful to have her as part of my team.

Physically and mentally, this journey is still very hard. I’m struggling with wanting to care for my body better—eating enough and eating well so I can start building strength again without losing weight. My muscles feel weaker than ever, and because the cancer is widespread in my bones, muscle loss happens faster for me. I know what I need to do, but some days it feels like such a battle.

I’ll be honest—I’m tired of struggling. Tired of struggling with cancer. Tired of struggling financially. Tired of not being able to do things with my family simply because we can’t afford them. Being house-poor has been incredibly stressful. As first-time homeowners, we made the mistake of choosing a variable interest rate, and it’s something we’ve been paying for ever since. Lesson learned—but the pressure is constant.

My mind is always full—thinking about my health, my family, and the unknowns of the future. I still have dreams. I still have wishes and things I hoped to do in this life. Not knowing how much time I have is both a blessing and a burden. I fear my health declining and losing the ability to do the things that matter most to me.

What scares me the most is leaving my family behind in financial hardship because of my illness. Being on long-term disability is already difficult, and my work is pushing for medical retirement, which would mean even less income. It’s terrifying, and while I don’t want to think about it, I also feel like I have to—because I need to protect my family.

More than anything, I want to make memories. I want to teach my daughter as much as I possibly can. I want to spend every moment I can with her, experience as many “firsts” as possible, and make sure she always knows how deeply she is loved.

Some days the fear feels overwhelming. I hate being scared. I don’t want to live in fear. When my thoughts start to spiral, I remind myself: one day at a time, deep breaths.

Even in all of this, I still have hope. Hope in my medical team. Hope in the treatments that continue to work. Hope in small moments, good days, laughter, and love. And hope in the incredible community that has wrapped us in kindness and support.

Your generosity has lifted a weight off our shoulders and reminded me that we are not alone in this fight. I am choosing to keep showing up, keep fighting, and keep believing that brighter days are still ahead—no matter how uncertain the road may feel.

Thank you for standing with us, for believing in me, and for giving us strength when we need it most.

With love and gratitude