Paitent Stories

Akeema Smith

Life After Cancer: Finding Myself Again

My name is Akeema Smith, and I’m a 24-year-old melanoma survivor. I was born with a congenital nevus on my left breast that grew alongside me throughout my childhood. In 2019, at just 18 years old, I was diagnosed with Stage 3 melanoma. At the time, I had no idea how drastically my life was about to change—and that in many ways, it would never return to what it once was.

Back in 2020, I shared my story publicly for the first time. I was nearing the end of treatment—just two immunotherapy infusions away from being “done,” or so I thought. I was in the middle of my cancer journey, while the world was in the middle of a global pandemic. It was a chaotic and lonely time.

After finishing treatment, I underwent multiple surgeries over the course of two years. (I honestly lost count—it felt like every 4 to 6 months, I was back under anesthesia.) What I wasn’t prepared for was how isolating survivorship could feel. Once treatment ended, many people around me assumed I was “better,” and that life would just go back to normal. But between the long-term fatigue, body changes, lingering anxiety, and medical trauma, I felt anything but “normal.”

There were days I felt completely stuck—trapped between the person I used to be and the life I was trying to rebuild. I was grieving the version of myself that no longer existed. I kept ending up in hospital beds, trying to move forward, only to be pulled back again. I didn’t know who I was anymore. And the worst part? I didn’t feel like I could talk about it because I was “supposed” to be grateful just to be alive.

But over time, I started to realize something important:

I am different now—and that’s okay. In fact, I’m stronger. I’m more assertive, more confident, and more adventurous than I’ve ever been. Cancer stripped a lot away, but it also revealed the parts of me that had been quietly waiting to rise.

I managed to finish my undergraduate degree in psychology, through a cancer diagnosis and a global pandemic. That’s something I am deeply proud of. Along the way, I also learned who was really in my corner—who showed up when I couldn’t even show up for myself. The people who stayed, listened, and loved me through the darkest moments… I carry them with me every day.

Since finishing the bulk of my cancer journey, I’ve chosen to give back by volunteering with Young Adult Cancer Canada (YACC), an organization that’s been a huge part of my healing. I now co-lead the Edmonton chapter of our support group, and it’s become a space where I can breathe again. There’s this perfect mix of dark humor, deep conversations, shared grief, and unexpected joy. We relate to each other in a way that most people can’t. We’ve built genuine friendships in a world that often forgets what young adults go through when facing something like cancer.

I’m still figuring out who I am after cancer. Some days are easier than others. But when I look back, I honestly can’t imagine who I’d be without everything I’ve endured. It doesn’t mean I’m grateful for the pain or the loss, but I am thankful for what I’ve gained—perspective, resilience, purpose.

Through the hardships, through the surgeries, through the anger, confusion, and tears… I’m still here. And every day I wake up, I try to live like tomorrow isn’t guaranteed—because for a while, it really wasn’t.

Cancer changed everything. But so did surviving it.

Join Akeema at this year’s Strides for Melanoma 5KM Walk. Walk alongside patients, survivors, supporters, and advocates as we raise awareness and funds for melanoma and skin cancer. Together, we are taking steps to stop skin cancer.