Krista's Story Part 2:The Healing Journey That Wasn’t Over

"But the truth is... I wasn’t fighting cancer anymore – at least not in my mind. I was doing everything I could to stay healthy, yes. But I was also trying to reclaim a sense of normal, a life beyond treatment."

So here we go with part two of my story.

I was going about life post-cancer – or at least that’s what I thought.

We had stepped into a new chapter as a family. There was a bit more lightness again. We were exploring things like parasite cleansing, and I had started cold plunging – all in an effort to feel strong, to stay well, to be proactive.

But the truth is... I wasn’t fighting cancer anymore – at least not in my mind. I was doing everything I could to stay healthy, yes. But I was also trying to reclaim a sense of normal, a life beyond treatment.

Still, something lingered beneath it all.

A quiet unsettling.

That space where you're not sick… but you’re not sure you’re fully well either. Where follow-up scans and blood work are constant reminders that life can shift at any moment.

I didn’t talk about that part much. The limbo. The unknown.

Because everyone wants the story to end when treatment does. But for so many of us—it’s just a new beginning.

Fast forward to a quiet Sunday at home.

I had done the groceries, ridden my spin bike out back, and was mid-mom-mode—unloading bags, making a sandwich, just living life.

It was a pickle jar that exposed everything.

I went to open it—and wham. A snap. A shock. A pain that dropped me to my knees.

At the time, I didn’t know what had happened. I convinced myself it was a dislocated shoulder. That seemed logical. Manageable. A fluke.

I was alone—of course, the only moment I’d been alone all weekend—and I instantly broke out in a full sweat. I started calling everyone, including 911. Something in me knew this was big.

I remember saying to the paramedic, almost offhandedly:"I had breast cancer in 2022. I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with that."

It was fleeting. A whisper of a thought I didn’t want to give power to. Because in my mind, this was a shoulder injury. Wild how the mind protects us in moments like that.

At the North Vancouver hospital, I waited. My friend Tanya—who’s just as stubborn as I am when it comes to asking for help—offered to come sit with me. I said yes, reluctantly. The way we both always try to handle things alone, until we can’t.

She hadn’t been there long when the doctor walked in with a look I’ll never forget.

He gently asked if it was okay to speak in front of her. I nodded.

Then came the words:"Your X-ray looks irregular. Given your medical history... I’m sorry to say this likely indicates that the cancer has spread to your bone."

Just like that, everything shifted again.

They gave me a sling, took a few more X-rays, and told me a call from my oncologist would come soon.

That was it. No drama, no sirens—just quiet devastation and the slow understanding that my life was about to change again.

to be continued........