Violet Rain Battles Cancer

Violet’s Full Video - CLICK HERE

Justin’s Full Video - CLICK HERE

Donations will go towards Medical Care, Pharmaceuticals, Alternative Therapy,

Indigenous Medicine & Practices, Surgery, Rehabilitation Modalities, Travel Expenses, Living Expenses.

FOLLOW VIOLET’S JOURNEY

I faced my first Cancer diagnosis in 2011, undergoing a year of intensive chemotherapy and 26 back-to-back radiation sessions, damaging my lungs. Upon being given the all-clear from Oncologists, I returned to everyday life, only to have the cancer return with a vengeance eight months later. I reluctantly underwent aggressive chemotherapy, followed by Alternative and Indigenous practices, which kept the cancer in remission for seven years, saving my life.

At the beginning of the pandemic outbreak, I developed a cough. Any form of exertion resulted in lightheadedness and loss of stability. I felt a constant tightness in my chest as if my lungs couldn't expand. Worried that I had contracted Covid, I sought out medical attention. Upon extensive testing, it was revealed that the cancer had returned. I had numerous tumours filling my chest, the biggest being 8cm in size. I was devastated.

I jumped back onto the alternative therapy regime that had healed my body during the 2nd diagnosis. I threw everything I had financially into giving myself the best shot of non-toxic treatment. Everything. At that time, I tried to work multiple jobs to pay for natural healing modalities, but my body couldn’t cope and shut down.

The tumour had pushed down on my heart, fractured my ribs and collapsed my right lung. I couldn’t breathe, and the pain in my body was jaw rattling. The 2nd tumour was wrapped around my pulmonary artery, cutting off blood flow and affecting my brain and heart function. The tumours displaced veins, tissue and nerves in my right arm and back, causing a domino effect of dysfunction. I was a mess. Due to the severity of the situation, I was immediately put on a high dose of steroids to contain the inflammation and rushed into targeted chemotherapy.

Scar tissue had set in, and my right lung could not be re-inflated. On this targeted chemo, your hair doesn’t fall out, and I was able to conceal the diagnosis to a certain extent. The intention was to keep this private. Aside from immediate family and a few friends, I didn’t want anyone to know what was happening behind closed doors. I pulled away from everything social and distanced myself from everyone. I was terrified this time and was not emotionally equipped to make a social media debut. I tried to pass my absence off as “it's all good, just living an everyday life over here in a pandemic.” Still, my face was changing from the cocktail of medication; cytotoxicity of treatment, massive weight loss and necrosis. I was an alarming sight, and going incognito was irrelevant.

Oncologists said without a transplant, I would have a 5% survival rate, so I said yes to the transplant. I underwent multiple surgeries to prep for the extended hospitalization, and on December 2nd was admitted into VGH, enduring 36 hours of straight chemotherapy followed by a transplant. I was allergic to the preservative in the transplant and had a dangerous reaction, closing my airways. I was on a constant morphine drip, feeding tube, and additional medication to ease the onslaught of neverending pain. This experience is the closest I have ever come to breaking in my entire life. When you're beyond your pain threshold for an extended duration, your mind shuts off to protect itself. I was fortunately released without blood transfusions or a spinal tap. Unfortunately, I was let out prematurely and blacked out above a flight of stairs, resulting in my husband calling 911 and being readmitted to the hospital within 48 hours. Upon my 2nd release, I was wheelchair-bound for the following months. Due to the severity of a transplant, I could not be around anyone besides Specialists and my husband for half a year and needed his care around the clock.

I am now eight months out from the transplant, able to walk on my own, and at the halfway point in my treatment with another eight months to go, followed by a year of rehabilitation.

Cancer is financially, physically and mentally devastating due to the duration and toxicity of treatment. My husband and I have tried to keep my diagnosis private; when your life is on the line every day for months on end, the fear becomes debilitating. We were barely hanging on to our sanity, and the thought of having to answer life-shattering questions that we didn't have answers to was too much to comprehend. Living in survival mode for so long, you become detached from what is considered normal, and the transition to the Red Zone is blurred. Going at it alone or giving up completely seemed like the only two options we had. And giving up is not in our DNA. So we kept fighting.

When is the right time to lower the barrier? When is the right time to reach out to those who love you and ask for help? I recognize the shame I carry in getting Cancer for the third time. Shame on being incredibly vulnerable with my greatest fear. I protect my peace at all costs, and telling the world of the brutality of my situation makes everything real, that something inside of me is broken, and I don't know how to cope with that.

I am incredibly proud of how far I've come, to finally be at the halfway point. When the remaining eight months are up, I have a year of rehabilitation ahead of me, but my life will be my own again. My resistance is my resilience; it's in my blood.

To the people who have followed my journey from the beginning, thank you for your constant love and support. It means everything to me. To those of you who have, had, or know of someone they love battling a first, second or third diagnosis, you are deeply felt and admired for your unbelievable courage and strength. I see you; you got this; you’re not alone in your battle.

Thank you for your kindness and compassion. And thank you, THANK YOU for your support!

Love & Light

Violet Rain