Michelle Hughes first noticed the nagging ache beneath her right rib at thirty‑five weeks pregnant with her daughter in 2016. Like many expectant mothers, she chalked it up to the familiar discomforts of a growing baby, but a cautious doctor ordered an ultrasound to rule out gallbladder trouble. Though her gallbladder looked fine, the scan revealed a benign liver hemangioma—a harmless, blood‑filled cyst that doctors agreed was unlikely to cause her pain. Told to enjoy her upcoming delivery and revisit the issue later if necessary, Michelle delivered baby Juliet at thirty‑six weeks and dove headfirst into motherhood, still feeling that occasional twinge but reassured by follow‑up scans showing no change in the cyst.
As the years passed and Michelle welcomed her second daughter, Adeline, she balanced a burgeoning social‑work career with raising two young children. Every so often, the side pain grew severe enough to land her in the ER, yet imaging consistently showed the cyst stable. Trusting those results, she carried on—juggling work, family, and a stubborn ache that never interfered enough to demand more attention.
Then, in 2021, Michelle faced a third pregnancy with her son, Hatton, complicated by a placental rupture at thirty‑five weeks. Both mom and baby survived the emergency, but mere days after returning home, Michelle collapsed in her living room. Rushed back to the hospital, her heart pounded at 180 beats per minute. Emergency scans revealed dozens of tumors blooming throughout her lungs and multiple cysts peppering her liver—nothing like the single benign hemangioma she’d been told about repeatedly.
A biopsy in Moncton confirmed the unthinkable diagnosis: Stage 4 epithelioid hemangioendothelioma, or EHE, a rare and incurable vascular sarcoma often invisible on standard scans. Michelle and her husband, Ty, learned this cancer had likely grown silently for five years, defying detection and rewriting their lives in an instant. Faced with a prognosis measured in months, they put their plans to return to the Northwest Territories on hold and clung to the hope of a liver transplant. Yet subsequent PET scans revealed tumors in her bones and other organs—suddenly, transplant was no longer an option.
Refusing to accept defeat, Michelle sought out a sarcoma specialist at Toronto’s Princess Margaret Cancer Centre, who encouraged her not just to count the days ahead but to fill them with life. “You’ve already survived more than expected,” he reminded her. “Now live.” That message sparked a transformation. The couple moved to Prince Edward Island to be closer to family support, and when an experimental oral therapy slowed the cancer’s advance—even briefly—Michelle discovered a new calling: chasing joy through movement.
She started simply, logging short strolls on a treadmill, then building to 5 K stroller runs with her children in tow. Within months, she conquered half‑marathons and 10 Ks. A year later, on the third anniversary of her cancer diagnosis, Michelle completed a full triathlon—swimming in the ocean, cycling over 100 km, and running a half‑marathon—finishing in the embrace of her cheering family.
Alongside her athletic feats, Michelle began chronicling her journey online. Unfiltered and authentic, her videos—shot in messy buns and housecoats—showed everything from tears in the ICU to triumphant race finishes. Her mantra, “Chase joy,” resonated with tens of thousands of followers who found in her story not toxic positivity but real, imperfect hope.
Determined to leave more than memories, Michelle records daily moments for Juliet, Adeline, and Hatton, creating a digital legacy of laughter, lessons, and love. She marks her weeks on a “Living List” chart—not to count down to an end, but to celebrate each one she surpasses. Whether it’s tasting oysters for the first time or watching Hatton board the school bus on his first day, Michelle treasures every simple victory.
Her journey has not only raised awareness for a nearly unknown cancer but also demonstrated the power of resilience. Despite an incurable diagnosis, she chose movement over mourning, community over isolation, and joy over despair—reminding us all that even when life’s path takes an unexpected turn, we still have the power to write the story of how we live.