For My Mom


I hope you’re doing well this week. My week has been full of petitioning for my life (we’ll talk about that later this week), preparing for the CIBC Run for the Cure, and planning November’s content. I’m so excited for you to see everything I’ve been working on!

I honestly have lost count of the amount of times that my Mom has come to see and said those horrible words: “they’ve found a lump.” Each time, it’s no less painful. It’s no less traumatizing. Sometimes, I think it may hurt more. I can’t imagine how my mom must feel – her life constantly involving doctors, physiotherapy, intense medications, and constant physical and emotional pain – and it breaks my heart. 

This year for my family has been harder than most years and honestly, I’m very lucky at this point to still have my Mom. Last year, my Mom had a stroke which led to the discovery of a brain aneurysm. In shock herself, my Mom had to sit all of us down and tell us a harsh reality – this aneurysm could kill her. Unfortunately, a less invasive surgery would not be able to slow the growth of the aneurysm and a craniotomy became the only option to save my Mom’s life. The thought of losing my Mom was breaking me from within and the pressure of rushing/waiting for the surgery wad mounting with each day that passed. On the day of her surgery, I couldn’t think. I was a ghost of a person. This surgery was the decisive factor on whether or not my Mom would live and it had to be soon – the aneurysm was growing at a shocking rate and would kill her by March. 

My mom has always been the one to stand up and make change. We all call her a bitch, a big mouth, Satan, and I’ve even called her a warrior of Hell itself, and it’s one of her best qualities. My Mom fought against an entire medical office to get my brother diagnosed with autism to access the help he needed; she ran my Sparks unit to prevent it from being shut down; she fought against my eating disorder to save my life from my eating disorder and even now, trying to save my life again; and supported my Dad through reconstructive knee surgery. My mom is the most passionate, baddest bitch I know and I love her for it. 

The first year my Mom told me about a lump in her breast, my brother had a mission – to show my mom that we supported her the way she supported us through our entire lives – and he started a group called Toronto Avengers, comprised of a few friends, myself, and my brother. He wanted to show people that we can achieve amazing things when we work together and if we continue to fight for a better world, we are ALL superheroes. With the money in his savings, he ordered a Captain America suit and promised to fight for my Mom. All he wanted was to bring positivity to people who are struggling through, quite possibly, the darkest time in their lives. We did the walk that year dressed as superheroes.

Every year since, we’ve grown. We have tried different characters and brought new people onto the Team. What really amazed me this year, more than any year, was that there were people at the Run actually LOOKING for us. My brother’s dream to inspire positivity and togetherness was coming true in ways no one ever expected. The smiles, the laughs, the people that we meet – they make the hot costumes worth it. To see my Mom know that she fully has our support – makes the amount of money we’ve spent on costumes and props worth it. To have my Mom alive to be able to see us fight for her – priceless.

I’m so happy to be a part of the Toronto Avengers. I’m proud to be my mother’s daughter. I’m proud to walk for my Mom to show her that I will always support her, even when she cant support herself.

I love you Mom. I know you’re reading this. Thank you for supporting me and loving me through all of the bull. I’ll hold your hand at your mammogram, at your next MRI, at your next worst, and I’ll be holding your hand. The Toronto Avengers will continue to fight for you and for every person who is searching for a cure. We’re determined and next year, we’ll be bigger and better and we’re going to beat cancer’s ass. We refuse to give up. 

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