I was fifty-five, and by every measure I was thriving. I taught fitness classes, I competed in tennis, and I moved through my days without a second thought about my health. If you had told me that cancer was somewhere inside me, I would have laughed — never in a million years did it seem possible.

The only sign was a small one: a slight cough that showed up when I lay on one side in bed. I also felt a little more tired than usual. When I went to see my doctor, we ruled out anemia, but I mentioned the cough almost in passing. Out of an abundance of caution, he sent me for an X-ray. That decision saved my life.

The X-ray revealed two large tumourous masses in the pleural lining of my left lung. The diagnosis was pleural mesothelioma. The BC Cancer Agency urged me to begin chemotherapy right away, but the prognosis was grim and I knew from the look on her face that it may be time to get my affairs in order.

I wasn’t ready to accept that. With the help of a doctor we knew, we learned of a clinical trial being run in Seattle and went for a second opinion. The doctors there pointed us toward the Canadian site of the same trial in Toronto, which they felt was the better option for me. I flew to Toronto, underwent rigorous testing to confirm I was a suitable candidate, and — to my enormous relief — was accepted.

The treatment was as aggressive as the cancer. I received high doses of radiation over just five days, and then, within forty-eight hours, I underwent a radical nine-hour surgery: an extrapleural pneumonectomy with decortication. The surgeons removed the tumours, my entire left lung, the pericardium, my sixth rib, the left side of my diaphragm, the phrenic nerve, and the sympathetic nerves.

Recovery was brutal. I was told it could take up to five years to feel like myself again. But within two years I was back on the tennis court — and I won my club’s singles championship for the fourth time.

Life with one lung is different. Any exertion leaves me winded quickly; even climbing a flight of stairs, or a good belly laugh can take my breath away. Not being able to perform athletically the way I once did is my biggest source of frustration. And yet the trial was designed to be curative. Eleven years later, I am still going strong, and I no longer need the frequent CT scans that once searched for any sign of the cancer’s return.

Everyone in life faces challenges, and this was never one I imagined for myself. But I have learned how precious life is, and how good it can be even alongside its hardships. I will be forever grateful to all the doctors who saved me — especially those in Toronto — and to my brother and sister, whose love and support never once wavered.

Colleen Ostlund in Vancouver, Canada / July 2026