October 22, 2024—a date forever etched in my heart. It was the day my husband, Ross, and I sat across from an oncologist at Juravinski Cancer Hospital in Hamilton, Ontario, and heard the words no one ever wants to hear: You have stage 3 ovarian cancer.
Just days earlier, I had visited my family doctor, asking for a full blood workup. Instead of filling the request, he looked at Ross and said, “If you don’t take her to the hospital right now, I’ll call an ambulance myself.” That moment shook us. And after a whirlwind of CAT scans and blood tests, the diagnosis was confirmed.
My immediate reaction? No. No. No. This can’t be right. No one in my family has ever had cancer. It felt impossible. Surely, this had to be a mistake.
But it wasn’t.
Everyone processes news like this in their own way. For us, we walked out of that appointment in a daze—stunned, heartbroken, and overwhelmed. We cried together, holding on to each other like our lives depended on it. Ross immediately began worrying about how we’d afford everything. I turned to prayer, looking up and asking God the big question we all ask in moments like this: Why?
And then, in one of those divine moments you can’t explain, Ross’s phone rang. It was our friend Lucas, the one we bought our vehicles from. He said he’d felt compelled to check in on us—right at the moment I had finished praying. Minutes earlier, we had decided to sell my Acura, my pride and joy, to help pay for naturopathic treatments. Suddenly, the car meant nothing. It was just a vehicle—and now, a way forward. Within 24 hours, Lucas had a team at our home with a cheque in hand. The bank even waived the hold. God had heard me.
In times like these, you learn how deeply support matters. When Ross told our close friends and family, they rallied. They gathered cancer resources and stood beside us in every way they could.
As for me, I just needed my dogs. Buddy and Marley sensed the shift. They never left my side, curling up close, offering a kind of healing only our fur-babies can give. They were my medicine.
This journey hasn’t been easy. There have been moments where I wanted to plug my ears and pretend none of this was happening. One of the hardest came when my oncologist told me to “get my affairs in order.” She didn’t believe the chemo was working anymore. So, I did what she advised—I updated my will, I cleared out physical things that no longer served me.
Then, just a few weeks ago, she said something that rocked me again: “You won’t die of old age.” Instead, she urged me to travel, to connect with people I’d been putting off, and to live fully.
After that appointment, Ross walked into Costco, came out with a giant box of Krispy Kreme donuts, handed them to me and said, “Go for it, Suzy.” So, I did. Four glorious, warm donuts later, I felt grounded again. I talked to God. I reminded myself that I’m a strong-willed Sagittarius. That miracles have followed me my whole life. And that I’m not done yet.
Since then, we’ve made a promise: to live fully now. We don’t dwell in “what ifs.” Instead, we ask each other daily, “How are you feeling? What can we do to make today special?” Sometimes that means just sitting quietly in our backyard listening to the birds. We tell each other “I love you” every night. I thank Ross for being not just my husband, but my caregiver, my rock, and my best friend. He always tells me the same in return. And every night, I end with the same words: “This was a great day.”
You see, we all have a choice when life hands us something heavy—like a cancer diagnosis. Speaking from the heart: it’s hard. But if you can bring your attention to the present moment, it will help. Spend time in nature. Watch the wind dance through the trees. Cuddle your pets. Speak your love out loud. Give thanks. These small things become everything.
As for me? I’m not done. I have more love to give. More stories to share. More people to uplift. That’s why I started my weekly podcast, “A Dose of Divine Inspiration”—a space to encourage, comfort, and remind others they’re never alone.
I’ve also taken up learning the keyboard, and—surprisingly—Ross is starting to recognize my songs. We’re going to concerts together, soaking in live music and joy at our local theatre. I’ve swapped the donuts for organic carrot juice, and we’re growing fresh food in our own little hydroponics garden. We’re baking homemade bread and living intentionally.
This diagnosis changed everything. But it also reminded me what matters most. And if my story reaches just one person who needs to hear that hope is still alive… then I’m grateful.
Because no matter what the doctors say, I’m still here.
And I’m still living.
Wishing you much love & many blessings,
About Sue London
Sue London is an award-winning healer, media host, and a compassionate force for love, healing, and hope. She is the proud recipient of several prestigious honors, including the Life Achievement Award, Humanitarian Award, Empowered Woman Award, and the Top Hospice Pet Doula & Pet Healer Award.
For over three decades, Sue has dedicated her life to helping others—people and pets alike—navigate illness, grief, and transformation with grace, faith, and an open heart. As a healer, she has supported thousands through physical, emotional, and spiritual challenges. As a media host, she creates space for soul-stirring conversations that inspire courage and connection.
Now walking her own powerful journey through stage 3 cancer, Sue continues to live with bold intention, sharing her light through everything she does. Her mission is to help others feel seen, supported, and never alone.
To receive ongoing support, healing tools, and divine inspiration, you can join Sue’s Healing Membership Program here: https://asksuelondon.com/membership-program/
