Our fighter

I had the honour of watching as Cityline‘s floor director JC Chessell stunned the crowd at the Celebration of Hope with her story of detection, chemotherapy and radiation at the tender age of 33.

I still remember when JC whispered in my ear that she had found “something” and had an appointment to get “it” checked out. I was as casual as she was at the time. Sure of the fact that it was nothing.

Nothing turned to something in a heartbeat. While JC has dealt with her breast cancer diagnosis with a healthy dose of humour and a maturity beyond her years, I’ve at times broken down into a wet, soggy, pain in the ass.

I’ll tell you why.

I love JC and while I’m certain she’ll make it I don’t want her going through the painful process of being prodded with needles (to extract her eggs), pumped up with medicine (chemo) or burnt to a crisp (radiation).

I cry because I want the hurt to stop.

But this story isn’t mine…it’s JC’s…and she owned it like only she could at yesterday’s event. To say that I’m proud of JC would be an understatement. She’s tackling a beast every day with more guts and perspective than I think I’d be able to muster.

I’m inspired by her journey and I’ll be there with her right to the end.

Likely with a box of tissues.

Now as a complete aside (because I can’t help but be shallow) check out JC’s backside in these photos while making her Hope Award acceptance speech. Stunning right?!

As soon as her last radiation treatment was done she got back on the health wagon and has gone down a size.

Holy crap girl.

Can anything stop you?

(Answer: no)

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