My name is Alessandra Piccolo. I am 47 years old and I am a three time cancer survivor. This is my story. 

There were so many lessons I learned during my journey through cancer, and I believe that by sharing my story, it might help those of you who have just been diagnosed as well as families and friends of people who have experienced cancer.

When people meet me for the first time and learn that I’ve gone through cancer, they always say the same thing: “You don’t look like you had cancer.” I’ve always wondered, what does cancer look like? I guess it looks like me. 

I am the face of cancer. We all are the face of cancer because who really knows who’s next.

Alessandra... three time cancer survivor

The results came in on February 14, 1997, Valentine’s Day, when I heard the three little words that would change my life.

“You have cancer.”

It was Dr. Francis Sheppard, renowned oncologist at Princess Margaret Hospital, who broke the news to me, confirming that I had non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma (a cancer which arises from the blood).

The first thought that came to my mind was, ‘How do I break the news to my mother?’ It wasn’t easy, because my father too had cancer – he died when I was 18.

In a way, my father’s battle with cancer gave me some idea of what to expect. Rather than feel sorry for myself, I knew I was going to fight like hell for my life. I was going to do everything I could to control the cancer and not have it control my destiny or my life.

My treatment plan included aggressive chemotherapy for six months, to be administered once every three weeks. It was a very difficult period, one I endured with the help of my mother Maria and brother Valentino, who were both my pillars of strength.

I will never forget my first chemotherapy session. Valerie, my first nurse, guided me through what the procedure would be and what to expect. When she inserted the needle in me, I began to cry. I was afraid of what I was going through. That’s when Valerie hugged and comforted me. 

I will never forget her. As terrible as chemo was, she made it as comfortable for me as it could possibly get.

One day, about three weeks after my first treatment, I stepped into the shower. When I got out, there were bald patches on what a little while earlier was a full head of hair. Although I was told to expect this and was somewhat emotionally prepared, my mother was not.

My treatment plan had me undergoing radiation after completing my six sessions of chemotherapy. Dr. Woody Wells, radiologist from Princess Margaret Hospital, set up my treatment sessions, which had me going in five days a week for a month. 

The treatment concluded in September 1997, but I still had to deal with the harsh after-effects of the medications which made me feel like a junkie. If it weren’t for the strength and support of my immediate family and friends, it would have been very difficult to get through it.

I had to undergo regular checkups, which over time extended to an annual examination. Things were going well.

Or so I thought.

Five years after my initial diagnosis, I started to notice a foul smell in my mouth. It wasn’t long before I was unable to mask it. Even worse, swallowing was getting hard - I felt like I had a ball in my throat. 

My doctor referred me to an ENT specialist and before I knew it, I was back at Dr. Sheppard’s office. The news wasn’t good. The cancer had returned. 

My treatment included six months of chemotherapy once again, but with a different recipe. After the chemo sessions concluded, they decided that radiation would not be appropriate this time around. It was recommended that I have stem cell transplant instead. Dr. Michael Crump and his stem cell team took over my treatment plan.

On May 1, 2002 I was admitted into Princess Margaret for one month. They started me with an IV drip of chemotherapy over 24 hours. My stem cell count went to zero and they then infused my bone marrow back into my body. They would monitor my hemoglobin levels over the month. When I returned to normal levels I was discharged and allowed to go home.

My follow up visits now included alternating visits to both Drs. Sheppard and Crump. If anything, my second battle with the disease was an even more emotional time than the first, and I felt very blessed to have the continued support of my family and friends. 

When I came out of it, I looked at it as a rebirth and was determined to get on with my life.

Once again, I was close to my five-year mark of the cancer’s recurrence when I noticed a small pebble sized formation on the nape of my neck. I immediately went to Dr. Neal Belluzzo, my family doctor, who set up an appointment with Dr. Sheppard. In April 2006, he confirmed what I already feared. The cancer was back.

I knew the drill by now. More chemo-therapy, this time for 12 sessions. Throughout these sessions I maintained as much hope as I could. The treatment was taking a toll on my body. 

After the 11th session, I suffered heart failure.

I was admitted to York Finch Humber River Regional Hospital, where I remained for two weeks. The last session of chemo was cancelled.

To this day, I continue to suffer from heart failure. I am fortunate to have been under the care of two excellent cardiologists, first Dr. Drobac, and now Dr. Gary Newton at Mount Sinai Hospital. 

I will also always be a cancer patient. That’s just the way it is, and I have come to accept that cancer will continue to be a part of me.

But cancer is just a small part of me. Cancer does not define me, nor does it make me who I am. It is a part of me always. But I am more than just a disease. 

Things I have learnt. Living with cancer and everything it entails is not easy. It takes a toll on the patient, for sure, but it also takes a toll on relationships, on families, on jobs. The simple truth is that going through a life-threatening illness of this nature makes it difficult for everyone around you. Your relationships are put to the sternest of tests, and you come out of it with bonds that are much stronger or ties that get frayed beyond repair.

My own marriage did not survive the test, but I focused on the people who were there for me. I grew much closer to my mother, brother and friends who helped me during those difficult times. Before the cancer, I was independent and self reliant – the death of my father when I was 18 meant that I had to assume adult responsibilities like helping my mother carry the expenses of the house from a young age. An illness like cancer forces you to reach out to others for support; trying to fight the battle alone will drain you of the resources and mental strength that is so important.

Through my roughest periods, and there were more than a few, I honestly believe it was my faith in God and prayer that saw me through. There are times when, even with family around, I felt completely alone, and I had to draw on my faith to keep fighting, to continue with the treatment no matter how poorly I felt.

It helps to have a positive attitude and a sense of humour. Often people don’t quite know what to say when they meet someone who is going through a serious illness. To make it easier on my family and friends, I’d often poke fun at myself. For example, after I’d lost all my hair during treatments, I would say “Don’t make me pull my hair out!”

It is also important to accept the magnitude of the battle. When I lost my hair during treatment, I chose not to wear a hairpiece simply so I could look at myself in the mirror and remind myself: “I have cancer, deal with it.” Sweeping things under the rug or feeling sorry for myself was simply not an option.

Facing up to the reality meant that I could ask the right questions, look for answers, and do everything I could to fight it with determination. I’ve learned that people respond to your emotions, so staying strong meant that everyone around me was strong too. 

I wanted their support, not their pity.

Surviving a battle with cancer is truly a transforming experience. It feels like a rebirth. You never look at yourself the same way again – especially when you have a second and a third chance. 

Coming through it makes you want to focus only on the positive and you strive for a life fulfilled. Now I live my life on my terms. I no longer have time to “sweat the small stuff”. I refuse to fret over little things or events that are out of my control. 

As someone blessed with a second (and third) chance at life, I encourage everyone to enjoy family and friends now while they can. After all, anyone is at risk. Anyone can be the face of cancer. 

Today I have my eyes wide open and don’t miss anything. Before my cancer it was easy to exist with my eyes closed. I no longer live like I have tomorrow, because I might not… the same goes for everyone.

If you develop cancer. Living with cancer today is a reality. The statistics don’t lie: According to the Canadian Cancer Society, 39% of women and 45% of men in this country will develop cancer during their lifetimes. 

The important thing to remember is that a cancer diagnosis is no longer a death sentence the way it used to be. There is more research, more specialized therapies and treatments and today chemotherapy is different for everyone, many different recipes, not just one. Twenty or even just 10 years ago, treatments were very different and more general. I feel lucky that cancers are more understood today than they were yesterday. The research is critical to our living with cancer – that’s why it’s so important to keep giving to this cause.

I looked at my own illness like it was a condition, not a permanent diagnosis. Your outlook is critical to the outcome. In my case, I believe that treatments accounted for only 20% of my recovery, the rest of it was a case of mind over matter. Know that you can’t do it alone, having people around you helps tremendously.

The second time and third time, treatments were much more difficult. I thought my body was going to give up. My mind is what would not give my body permission to give up, to quit.

I cannot stress enough the importance of finding the right doctor. When I found I was misdiagnosed, I took more control. Finding the right team of professionals is critical to your journey, from being properly diagnosed, to communication through the care team to the one on one meetings. The doctor has to be hands on, be patient, take extra care and time and welcome the questions. It’s their obligation to answer all the questions you have.

I would like to thank all my family and friends along with my team of doctors who have and will always be my source of strength. A very special thank you to Dr. Belluzzo and Sherry who have always been there for me.