Tiffany MacDonald

Just me and my bike raising funds to fight cancer!

So why am I riding?

In 2019, my family received devastating news that would completely upend our lives.

My amazing mom has a rare genetic disorder called hereditary multiple osteochondromas (HMO). She prolifically grows benign bone tumours all over her body. She has been as healthy (and active) as a horse her entire life, but in 2019, she had some new and strange symptoms, like tingling and numbness in her extremities. She went to the doctor after monitoring it for a while and noticing it wasn’t going away. Her doctor palpated her abdomen and looked alarmed, and said she could feel…something. She sent her a CT scan, and the results were quickly in—she had a large pelvic tumour.

This was not a complete shock. A few decades prior, my mom had to have one of her osteochondromas surgically removed from her pelvis, which had turned out to be malignant. While HMO tumors are usually benign, in 2% to 5% of cases, they can degenerate to malignant. So while we were devastated to hear that it had grown back, she had already gone through surgery and treatment for this previously, so she knew what to expect. It was a tough recovery, but she’s a phenomenally strong woman—mentally, physically, and spiritually—and she has a tremendous community of support. Her doctor referred her to an orthopedic surgeon in Halifax. My parents and I attended that appointment.

That day is eternally carved into my mind. It was the day we were told that the chondrosarcoma occupied 90% of my mom’s pelvis. She had to have a surgery called a hemipelvectomy, where they would need to amputate all her pelvic organs, half her pelvis, and her leg. This would be a very complex 15-hour surgery that would involve multiple specialties and require a very lengthy recovery. My mom would have to adjust to life with an ileostomy and urostomy as well as being an ambulatory wheelchair user. For a woman who walked and went to the gym every day (including Christmas—I’m not kidding), this was a lot to take in.

Unfortunately, the surgery was too complex to complete in Nova Scotia, so we travelled to Mount Sinai Hospital in Toronto, where my mom stayed for a month. Following that, she spent another month at the Halifax Infirmary, then she moved to the Restorative Care unit in her local hospital in rural NS, where she stayed for an additional six months before finally returning home. My father spent thousands of dollars accessibly retrofitting my childhood home, but it was too much to manage—my parents have since moved to an accessible apartment, and they have adjusted to their new lives. She had a couple of metastatic lung tumours removed following her surgery, but right now, six years later, she is cancer free.

So again, why do I ride? If my mother had been followed appropriately after her original surgery and cancer care, she wouldn’t have been in the position she was in. If we had the technology, training, and effective interdisciplinary communication (due, in my view, to human resource gaps) my mother required here in Nova Scotia, perhaps my mom’s cancer would have been caught sooner or treated locally. The financial, emotional, and mental health costs of our trip to Toronto and my mom’s recovery were significant for our family and the health care system. My family is deeply indebted to every single health care professional who helped us along the way, but I ride because I hope to prevent other families from experiencing what we have.

And beyond my mom’s story, I ride for my sister and nephew, who both also have HMO. Neither of them has had an osteochondroma degrade into a chondrosarcoma, all because of diligent careful monitoring, which my mother didn’t have after her first surgery. But I ride for them because I want them to have the very best preventative care, since they are genetically predisposed. I also ride for so many other close family members, friends, and colleagues who have been touched by cancer.

Nova Scotia has the highest cancer rates in Canada. Currently, 1 in 2 are diagnosed in their lifetime and 1 in 3 patients will not survive. That’s why I am riding in the 11th annual BMO Ride for Cancer to help fund life-saving care for all Nova Scotians.

The list of loved ones affected by cancer keeps growing, and so must our commitment to conquering it. This is our time to lead the charge and continue our journey to transform local cancer care — for those we’ve lost, those currently facing cancer, and the 1 in 2 who will be diagnosed.

To help combat these alarming stats, our BMO Ride for Cancer community will equip our QEII experts with the diagnostic tools they need to deliver some of Canada’s most leading-edge cancer care available — ensuring our loved ones have the best possible chance of conquering cancer.

Funds raised by our 2025 BMO Ride for Cancer community will unlock more precise, targeted therapies that have fewer side effects and allow for earlier detection of cancer recurrence for patients being treated at the QEII Cancer Centre; Atlantic Canada’s largest and most specialized cancer treatment hospital.

With every dollar you donate to my Ride, you’re bringing us closer to a future where precision oncology WILL save and change the lives of Nova Scotians.

Please donate to my ride today!

To learn more about precision oncology and the impact your generous donation will have here at home, visit https://YourRideforCancer.ca/Impact.