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Young marrieds shouldn’t have such grave concerns.
In a perfect world they would be debating house paint colours, not a desperate, last-minute flight overseas to save a bride’s life.
Sarah and Matt Haddad grew up together in Orléans, proverbial childhood sweethearts, and had only been married for eight months when Sarah, then 26, was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was a rising fashion designer with a new job in Montreal; he, a builder. They had just bought a house in Montreal and were gutting it for a massive makeover when the diagnosis hit home. Months passed, more cancer cells were found and Sarah underwent a mastectomy in 2014.
Until March of this year, everyone thought that the chapter was closed. Three-plus years of good health and people started using the term “cancer-free” when Sarah’s name came up.
“I forgot she even had cancer,” said one family friend.
The couple was now living in Navan where they had opened their own home-renovation business, Ten Designs Build — Sarah’s interior design skills melding with Matt’s carpentry.
Then the devastating news three months ago: Sarah’s cancer had metastasized to her liver and bones.
With that development, the couple’s lives veered down an unexpected path that would see Sarah approach death’s door before a last-minute decision to seek treatment abroad, all while a community of friends and even strangers rallied behind them.
Sarah and Matt Haddad
By the May long weekend, Sarah, 30, was extremely weak and bloated. Matt was desperate to find help. He spoke to his father-in-law, Larry Taylor, about the prospect of flying Sarah to Germany for regional chemotherapy treatment, which is isn’t available in Canada. A single session of treatments costs about $38,000, plus housing and flight costs. Sarah would possibly need four to five sessions.
Her father, an operations manager for AGF Steel, wondered where the money would come from.
“I don’t have a lot of work years left,” said Taylor, 62. “The house is paid off, but I didn’t know how to cover this.”
Matt explored options relentlessly, and contacted a woman in Orangeville, Narda Hunt, who had been through regional chemotherapy (with a remarkably similar cancer history). After subsequently exchanging emails with Dr. Karl Aigner, medical director of the oncology clinic in Burghausen, Germany, Matt took decisive action.
Scheduled for a Tuesday morning chemotherapy treatment in Ottawa, Sarah was told instead by her husband to prepare to fly to Germany. They were to leave Wednesday. Initially, she argued against going, but lost the argument.
On a practical level, the idea was laughable. Sarah was so bloated she couldn’t walk. As her liver began to shut down from secondary cancer, fluids were building up in her stomach and legs. She was already wondering if she had enough energy to get to her regular chemo session in Ottawa, and now she was supposed to fly overseas?
The couple had been hopeful in March when Sarah was offered an experimental drug that cost $1,200 per month (it was covered by private insurance). But neither the medication nor low dose systemic chemo was proving effective. By late May, Sarah was so ill she was taken to the emergency ward.
Her bilirubin readings were spiking, indicating her liver wasn’t breaking down waste properly.
“They basically told me my liver was failing,” Sarah said.
There seemed little choice but to accept death or try this mad dash to Germany.
“The clock is five minutes to midnight,” Aigner had said to Matt in a late-night email that was not referring to the time of day in either country, but the urgency of Sarah’s condition.
Barely 100 pounds and some of it unwanted liquid, Sarah shed four litres of fluids at the Ottawa hospital before her flight.
Sarah’s parents, Cindy and Larry, held their breath.
“Ten thousand questions and ten thousand worries,” said Cindy, reflecting back. “But the situation was desperate. We were just watching her go.”
On Saturday, June 23, the Haddads returned home to Ottawa after Sarah had received one full series of treatments — four regional chemotherapy sessions. Unlike conventional chemo, which impacts the entire body, regional chemo targets a specific area. In Sarah’s case, it targeted her liver.
On “cancer street,” as Sarah called the realm of her and her fellow patients, Matt and Sarah spoke with a woman from Toronto who, like Sarah, had Stage 4 cancer. The woman was given one month to live, essentially waiting to die. After surgery and regional chemo in Germany, her quality of life drastically improved. She is now well enough to run and cycle, they said.
“We hope to get the same result with Sarah,” said Matt. “We want her to be here next year, too.” They both laugh, and again when Matt says Sarah was “banging the table for food” not long after her last regional chemo treatment. After conventional chemo, she couldn’t bear the sight or smell of food.
Freshly returned from the German clinic, Sarah and Matt sat for an interview at their gorgeous home in rural Navan. Completely renovated by the young couple, the home reflects Matt’s strength and Sarah’s eye for design. Their combined energy is palpable, despite her illness. She laughs easily, never complains. Friends say she never does.
Sarah Haddad at her home in Navan.
Her health has improved somewhat. Before the regional therapy treatment, Sarah was taking morphine every four hours, confined to her anti-gravity chair, the closest thing they could find to a hospital bed.
At the time of the interview, she was off all pain meds and her hair was growing back. Sarah took a moment to revel in the community support that has become an integral part of their cancer journey.
Before they left, Matt had quickly launched a GoFundMe page with a goal of $250,000, to cover at least four sessions. In two weeks, donations from more than 600 people had surpassed $80,000, sparked by an initial surge. Donations ranged from $5 to $2,000, including several of $1,000.
“It’s so humbling to see this support … from family, friends, and complete strangers,” said Sarah’s dad, Larry.
The prayers and best wishes in the accompanying comments touched the family deeply. Sarah is routinely moved to tears seeing the donations page. Matt said the donations and messages buoyed them in Germany, without family there, and while missing their black Lab, Jaxon.
Her mother and father are overwhelmed.
“From my perspective, how do you thank all those people for saving her life,” said Cindy, who is director of Quality Initiatives at Carleton University.
Matt’s business acumen was evident in his push to raise cancer capital. As his Ten Designs Build company is “Baeumler approved,” Matt called Bryan Baeumler personally to see if he could help. Baeumler, a well-known HGTV host and personality, pledged to raise $10,000 through matching donations from other Baeumler-approved companies. Matt also called every company he has invested in, and asked their respective CEOs to help. Most did.
Larry’s AGF company has been in from Day One. It paid for the first trip overseas (business class so she could lie down) and raised several hundred dollars through assorted fundraisers. Air Canada bent over backwards to make Sarah comfortable, and bumped her to first class for the return flight after someone on Twitter flagged Sarah’s story to the airline.
Matt was back in steerage. “Your wife is a sweetheart. We’re looking after her,” flight attendants reported to him during the trip.
It took a shift in gears for the family to accept donations. They are used to being on the giving end.
“The first thing people would say about them is, they are so generous. To a fault,” said longtime family friend Cathy Joyce.
“That’s what so wonderful, to see them getting all this generosity back,” Joyce said. “There’s hope now. And friendships have been made out of this.”
Sarah would post on her Facebook page that she was “bubble wrapped with love and prayers” for the overseas flight.
Joyce thought the expression was perfect, for it took a growing circle of support to wrap her up in their arms and put her in that jet plane.
“She was so fragile and sick, she had to be bubble wrapped,” Joyce said. “It feels good to be a bubble wrapper and to be helping.”
An inspiring couple are inspired themselves by the care and concern of others.
“Love is written all over this story,” Joyce said. “Love and faith and hope.”
wscanlan@postmedia.com
查看原文...
In a perfect world they would be debating house paint colours, not a desperate, last-minute flight overseas to save a bride’s life.
Sarah and Matt Haddad grew up together in Orléans, proverbial childhood sweethearts, and had only been married for eight months when Sarah, then 26, was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was a rising fashion designer with a new job in Montreal; he, a builder. They had just bought a house in Montreal and were gutting it for a massive makeover when the diagnosis hit home. Months passed, more cancer cells were found and Sarah underwent a mastectomy in 2014.
Until March of this year, everyone thought that the chapter was closed. Three-plus years of good health and people started using the term “cancer-free” when Sarah’s name came up.
“I forgot she even had cancer,” said one family friend.
The couple was now living in Navan where they had opened their own home-renovation business, Ten Designs Build — Sarah’s interior design skills melding with Matt’s carpentry.
Then the devastating news three months ago: Sarah’s cancer had metastasized to her liver and bones.
With that development, the couple’s lives veered down an unexpected path that would see Sarah approach death’s door before a last-minute decision to seek treatment abroad, all while a community of friends and even strangers rallied behind them.
Sarah and Matt Haddad
By the May long weekend, Sarah, 30, was extremely weak and bloated. Matt was desperate to find help. He spoke to his father-in-law, Larry Taylor, about the prospect of flying Sarah to Germany for regional chemotherapy treatment, which is isn’t available in Canada. A single session of treatments costs about $38,000, plus housing and flight costs. Sarah would possibly need four to five sessions.
Her father, an operations manager for AGF Steel, wondered where the money would come from.
“I don’t have a lot of work years left,” said Taylor, 62. “The house is paid off, but I didn’t know how to cover this.”
Matt explored options relentlessly, and contacted a woman in Orangeville, Narda Hunt, who had been through regional chemotherapy (with a remarkably similar cancer history). After subsequently exchanging emails with Dr. Karl Aigner, medical director of the oncology clinic in Burghausen, Germany, Matt took decisive action.
Scheduled for a Tuesday morning chemotherapy treatment in Ottawa, Sarah was told instead by her husband to prepare to fly to Germany. They were to leave Wednesday. Initially, she argued against going, but lost the argument.
On a practical level, the idea was laughable. Sarah was so bloated she couldn’t walk. As her liver began to shut down from secondary cancer, fluids were building up in her stomach and legs. She was already wondering if she had enough energy to get to her regular chemo session in Ottawa, and now she was supposed to fly overseas?
The couple had been hopeful in March when Sarah was offered an experimental drug that cost $1,200 per month (it was covered by private insurance). But neither the medication nor low dose systemic chemo was proving effective. By late May, Sarah was so ill she was taken to the emergency ward.
Her bilirubin readings were spiking, indicating her liver wasn’t breaking down waste properly.
“They basically told me my liver was failing,” Sarah said.
There seemed little choice but to accept death or try this mad dash to Germany.
“The clock is five minutes to midnight,” Aigner had said to Matt in a late-night email that was not referring to the time of day in either country, but the urgency of Sarah’s condition.
Barely 100 pounds and some of it unwanted liquid, Sarah shed four litres of fluids at the Ottawa hospital before her flight.
Sarah’s parents, Cindy and Larry, held their breath.
“Ten thousand questions and ten thousand worries,” said Cindy, reflecting back. “But the situation was desperate. We were just watching her go.”
On Saturday, June 23, the Haddads returned home to Ottawa after Sarah had received one full series of treatments — four regional chemotherapy sessions. Unlike conventional chemo, which impacts the entire body, regional chemo targets a specific area. In Sarah’s case, it targeted her liver.
On “cancer street,” as Sarah called the realm of her and her fellow patients, Matt and Sarah spoke with a woman from Toronto who, like Sarah, had Stage 4 cancer. The woman was given one month to live, essentially waiting to die. After surgery and regional chemo in Germany, her quality of life drastically improved. She is now well enough to run and cycle, they said.
“We hope to get the same result with Sarah,” said Matt. “We want her to be here next year, too.” They both laugh, and again when Matt says Sarah was “banging the table for food” not long after her last regional chemo treatment. After conventional chemo, she couldn’t bear the sight or smell of food.
Freshly returned from the German clinic, Sarah and Matt sat for an interview at their gorgeous home in rural Navan. Completely renovated by the young couple, the home reflects Matt’s strength and Sarah’s eye for design. Their combined energy is palpable, despite her illness. She laughs easily, never complains. Friends say she never does.
Sarah Haddad at her home in Navan.
Her health has improved somewhat. Before the regional therapy treatment, Sarah was taking morphine every four hours, confined to her anti-gravity chair, the closest thing they could find to a hospital bed.
At the time of the interview, she was off all pain meds and her hair was growing back. Sarah took a moment to revel in the community support that has become an integral part of their cancer journey.
Before they left, Matt had quickly launched a GoFundMe page with a goal of $250,000, to cover at least four sessions. In two weeks, donations from more than 600 people had surpassed $80,000, sparked by an initial surge. Donations ranged from $5 to $2,000, including several of $1,000.
“It’s so humbling to see this support … from family, friends, and complete strangers,” said Sarah’s dad, Larry.
The prayers and best wishes in the accompanying comments touched the family deeply. Sarah is routinely moved to tears seeing the donations page. Matt said the donations and messages buoyed them in Germany, without family there, and while missing their black Lab, Jaxon.
Her mother and father are overwhelmed.
“From my perspective, how do you thank all those people for saving her life,” said Cindy, who is director of Quality Initiatives at Carleton University.
Matt’s business acumen was evident in his push to raise cancer capital. As his Ten Designs Build company is “Baeumler approved,” Matt called Bryan Baeumler personally to see if he could help. Baeumler, a well-known HGTV host and personality, pledged to raise $10,000 through matching donations from other Baeumler-approved companies. Matt also called every company he has invested in, and asked their respective CEOs to help. Most did.
Larry’s AGF company has been in from Day One. It paid for the first trip overseas (business class so she could lie down) and raised several hundred dollars through assorted fundraisers. Air Canada bent over backwards to make Sarah comfortable, and bumped her to first class for the return flight after someone on Twitter flagged Sarah’s story to the airline.
Matt was back in steerage. “Your wife is a sweetheart. We’re looking after her,” flight attendants reported to him during the trip.
It took a shift in gears for the family to accept donations. They are used to being on the giving end.
“The first thing people would say about them is, they are so generous. To a fault,” said longtime family friend Cathy Joyce.
“That’s what so wonderful, to see them getting all this generosity back,” Joyce said. “There’s hope now. And friendships have been made out of this.”
Sarah would post on her Facebook page that she was “bubble wrapped with love and prayers” for the overseas flight.
Joyce thought the expression was perfect, for it took a growing circle of support to wrap her up in their arms and put her in that jet plane.
“She was so fragile and sick, she had to be bubble wrapped,” Joyce said. “It feels good to be a bubble wrapper and to be helping.”
An inspiring couple are inspired themselves by the care and concern of others.
“Love is written all over this story,” Joyce said. “Love and faith and hope.”
wscanlan@postmedia.com
查看原文...
