We are training to participate in an endurance event as a member of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society of Canada’s Charity Challenge.

Why is this so important to us?

In November of 2014, we were married for less than 18 months when Cheyenne, 25 at the time, was diagnosed with Stage II Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Looking back, it was easy to see she'd been sick for quite some time but never in our wildest nightmares did we imagine it would be cancer. Everything else was forgotten as we prepared to fight the biggest fight of our lives.

Chey was lucky to be assigned a fantastic hematologist, Dr. Muhammad Aslam out of the Allan Blair Cancer Centre in Regina. We met with him for the first time in December, and at the beginning of January 2015, she began bi-weekly chemotherapy treatments. For six hours every other Friday, we found ourselves in the "chemo room" at the ABCC, watching nurses gown up to pump drugs into her IV that would burn them if they got it on their skin. Aint no party like a chemo party to kick off your weekend when you're a 25-year-old newlywed.  

Although we were told the four-drug chemo regiment she was on, known as ABVD, was one of the mild to moderate varieties, for Chey it was anything but. She experienced paralyzingly bad nausea and vomiting for the first month before getting back into see Dr. Aslam. He said he had never seen anyone get so sick on ABVD, and prescribed two anti-emetics to be taken around the clock for the first five days after chemo. It stopped the vomiting, but she hated the way it made her feel.

A few days after her second treatment, it happened: her hair started to fall out. Fast. She swore a little (trademark style), cried a lot, and then let Evan shave it off - something we NEVER thought we'd be doing.  

By February, she was bald and had gained 15 pounds from the steroids, and she could no longer deny that she was in fact very, very sick. Psychologically, that was the hardest part - looking in the miorror and not recognizing yourself is something that's indescribably difficult.

In addition to chemotherapy and steroids, because we had no children yet and were obviously not planning on any given that our entire lives had now been tipped upside down, Chey received monthly Lupron shots to protect her reproductive system from the potentially damaging effects of chemotherapy. Lupron works by shutting down the reproductive system, essentially putting the user into medical menopause - including all the fun side effects that come with. 

In spite of all this, we were the lucky ones. She received a scan in March of 2015 (and got the results on Evan's 27th birthday!) that showed "significant shrinkage" of cancerous tissue. After only four cycles (8 treatments) she was cancer free. As an insurance policy of sorts, she did 10 radiation treatments to her neck and chest where the cancer originated in hopes of cutting the chance of recurrance by about 8 per cent.

In the year and a half since, Chey has had three clean scans. Her next is scheduled for June 2017, which will put her two years out and officially in the statistically lower-risk of relapse category. 

Which brings us to today. We want everyone who hears the words, 'you have cancer' to have the opportunities we've had -- to be able to say 'I had cancer, but I beat it.' Without research by organizations like the LLS, there can be no new treatments developed. Without funding, there can be no research. Leukemia, lymphoma, and myeloma are insidious and they will take many, many more lives - lives of children, teenagers, newlyweds, and folks in their golden years that should just be enjoying retirement.

Every penny raised goes toward giving someone else a story like ours -- with twists and turns and difficulties, but ultimately, a happy ending.

Thanks for your support!