Adam Coletta

Life is a series of events strung together that we often manage in piecemeal, unappreciative and unrelenting in our pursuit of the next dopamine rush. At least that was my reality as a 28 year old ambitious husband and expectant father with an unyielding desire to build a life that I once felt entitled to. It’s funny how quickly things can change, how my life detoured in an instant, en route to a devilish destination that previously only existed in my nightmares.

In October of 2017, I began to experience a brigade of symptoms that alerted me to an acute issue. While the sight of blood might alarm most people, the crimson red seemed all too familiar having been previously conditioned through open heart surgery. I naively felt that my resilience had already been tested, that the life long mechanical heart valve that I had installed relinquished me from future trials. As the symptoms intensified so did my concern which prompted me to visit the closest hospital and investigate. As I reflect on our anatomy, the utility of our blood is often understated. Though it appears through trauma, it’s impact on our immune system flew under the radar until that day.

I can still vividly remember the look on the doctors face as he struggled to deliver a message that was in direct conflict with my optimism. Though I suspect that he uttered a structured sentence, all I heard was leukemia. All these years later, I can still hear the dissonance from the diagnosis. The word seemed suspended in time as I questioned my consciousness that was quickly validated by the look on my wife’s face.

The future that once seemed certain, became statistically improbable. My reality went from wonderfully ordinary to tragic and an intense contrast of emotions ensued. My mind was invaded by intrusive thoughts that seemed to take the darkest of forms and taunted me with the thought of being ejected from this world before my daughter entered it. So, I prepared for battle.

Throughout treatment, life became a series of unknowns. The situation presented as a total enigma where the odds were not in my favour. My fate seemed to have been sealed in an envelope that paraded in front of me, out of arms reach but at the forefront of my mind. I advanced along the pervasive path surrendering to a barrage of invasive treatments that felt corrosive, stealing my identity, my hair, my independence but never my hope.

I sometimes mourn the person I was, the life I may have had without cancer, without the subsequent ubiquitous reminder of human fragility. During my recovery, I’ve learned to appreciate the lessons that informed my renewed outlook on life. I feel in many ways reborn where my past feels like a fond but distant set of memories. I emerged from the chaos, a more resilient and empathetic version of myself with a steadfast appreciation for life and the impressions I make on others. I am not defined by a diagnosis yet can harness the experience as a tool to light the path for others facing similar misfortunes. 7 years later, I remain motivated by my happy thought where I imagine my daughter achieving her ambitions. I hope that she lives fiercely and unjaded remembering that while life can be cruel, it's equally beautiful.

Though I’m immensely honoured to be recognized as this years honorary hero, I am one voice in a sea of patients and caregivers that demonstrate their resilience and mental fortitude daily. Cancer is indiscriminate and impartial. Its’ impact permeates across social class, gender identity and culture and has become a crisis of epic proportions that requires your support.

We cannot afford to take action tomorrow. I urge you to please contribute to the LLSC within your means to help improve the outcome of future patients and illuminate their path forward.

As the emotional tide from this letter begins to settle, I remind myself that life is a journey. We are bound to stumble along the way, but what truly defines us is not just our ability to rise again, but how we lift others up to do the same. Take my hand.