For Annalise Stenekes, compassionate care is in her blood.
She has provided it in times of suffering to friends, strangers and her mother. She’s been on the receiving end of it, too, during her own health struggles.
Before moving to Orillia, Stenekes volunteered at Fife House in Toronto, a supportive housing agency assisting people living with HIV/AIDS.
She then decided to take hospice volunteer training in 2003 and assisted clients in their homes.
Her situation changed from volunteer to career when she was hired by a different visiting hospice program in Toronto as its care co-ordinator. The passion grew, so she decided to pursue a master’s degree in social work.
All of that experience eventually led Stenekes to Orillia.
In 2007, she became executive director of Hospice Orillia, a position she held for two years. During that time, she gave birth to her first daughter, Alida, and decided to not return to her role at Hospice Orillia.
She took on some teaching gigs at Georgian College and Lakehead University. As if she wasn’t busy enough, she also became a consultant with Hospice Palliative Care Ontario (HPCO), working on revamping provincial hospice standards and its accreditation program.
That job became increasingly demanding, so she left Georgian in 2015 and Lakehead in 2017.
“My HPCO role kept expanding and pushing my other roles aside,” she said.
She enjoyed her time with the organization, but her heart was always with the local community. So, when she learned Mariposa House Hospice was seeking its first executive director, she put her name forward.
“I really felt the call to come back to my role in the community — to benefit the community, not just the province,” she said.
In May 2020, Stenekes got the job.
A career in hospice and palliative care wasn’t on her radar as a kid. It was when she took the hospice training in Toronto that she realized it was what she wanted to do.
“It really resonated with me,” she said. “How we support other human beings in that natural part of their life is so important.”
It goes beyond medical care. Clients can also receive spiritual, psychosocial and practical support. That can include what might seem like minor tasks such as returning a library book or changing cat litter.
The value of hospice and palliative care hasn’t changed over the years, but awareness has.
In 2005, there were only five residential hospices in Ontario. Now there are more than 50.
“The government has come to the table in a really significant way in the past 15 years,” Stenekes said. “The government investment has legitimized it. We proved to them that we were worth their investment.”
It takes a certain type of person to work in a field that deals with death on a regular basis. For Stenekes, “there’s something in the notion that we’re all going to experience dying.”
“There’s something really equalizing about that for me,” she said.
She recalled being “terrified of death” as a teenager.
“I remember being quite preoccupied about that,” she said.
It wasn’t in a morbid sense, though, and it has helped her overcome her fears.
“When something scares me, I rush at it like a bull,” she said.
Her mother called her brave, saying Stenekes wasn’t afraid of anything.
“It’s not that I’m not afraid. I’m afraid, but I want to try it anyway,” she said.
About eight years ago, Stenekes was the one in need of support.
While pregnant with her second daughter, she experienced a “topical, skin-related issue.” She was three days past her due date when she had a biopsy. The next morning, she went into labour.
“All that time, I was worried about whether I’d be able to breastfeed Suzy,” she said.
On July 10, 2013, she was diagnosed with mammary Paget’s disease.
“At that point, I just assumed I’d have a resection and go on my merry way,” she said.
The prognosis wasn’t that forgiving. Further testing and another biopsy the following month revealed she had breast cancer and would need to undergo chemotherapy.
“My first reaction was, ‘What about baby?’” Stenekes recalled through tears, the memory bringing back the raw emotion she felt at the time.
She and Suzy were on their way home after getting mint chip ice cream at the Red Caboose on Laclie Street when she got the call telling her she had to stop breastfeeding.
“The hardest part of the experience was having to wean her,” she said. “I felt like I was freaking Wonder Woman for being able to breastfeed her for as long as I had.”
Stenekes was referred to Barrie for various tests before starting chemotherapy.
In September 2013, she had her first chemo treatment.
The hits kept coming. She found out she had Stage 4 metastatic cancer after the breast cancer spread to her lymphatic system, causing a lesion on her liver.
“In my experience in hospice, that was pretty much like telling someone they’re palliative,” she said.
Doctors told her it wasn’t necessarily a death sentence, though there would be a high risk of recurrence.
After four months of chemotherapy, Stenekes had a bilateral mastectomy in January 2014, followed by five weeks of radiation treatment. She didn’t need to have her other breast removed, but she decided to out of an abundance of caution.
Seven years ago this month, she received her first clear CT scan.
Stenekes didn’t undergo breast reconstruction because she knew there was a chance the cancer would return and certain reconstruction can impede radiation treatment.
For a couple of years, she wore prosthetics.
“I was worried about not looking like a normal person,” she said. “A lot of it has to do with body image.”
About a year after her cancer treatments stopped, at age 40, Stenekes had a hysterectomy after another scare. Fortunately, it was determined she didn’t have cancer, but the procedure led to another change for her body, as weight gain is common following a hysterectomy.
“So, I have a super-flat chest and a super-non-flat belly,” she said.
Sometimes she gets asked when she’s due.
“That did bother me, but not so much anymore because I know it’s coming from a place of caring,” she said. “I just wish people would stop commenting on other people’s bodies.”
Support from friends and family has been a “huge factor” during her journey.
“One of the big things for me was not to be shy about asking for help,” she said. “People want to help others but don’t necessarily know how. They can’t read your mind. If you’re struggling with something that somebody can help you with, ask for help.
“Some people are very private about it, but I hope that people can come to understand that allowing others to help you doesn’t necessarily infringe on your privacy. I feel like I gave a gift to people in my life, and I feel good about it.”
Stenekes found support among strangers, too. She returned to social media after more than a year away from it and found a “flatties group” made up of others who’ve had mastectomies.
It was during those interactions that she decided to do away with her prosthetics — ”foobs,” as she calls them.
“I just had enough. I thought of them as a ball and chain,” she said. “A big part of my decision to throw the foobs to the wind, so to speak, was the support from people in those groups.”
That support came at a time when someone who would have been at her side wasn’t able to be.
Her mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease a month before Stenekes received her cancer diagnosis.
“Because I didn’t have my own mom to support me and be part of this journey, I fell into this openness to letting other people help me,” she said.
Her mother went into a long-term care home two years ago. She’s still alive, but a degree of grief is with Stenekes “all the time.”
“Like any kind of grief, it comes in waves. It feels like it’s this little corner of my heart that’s always sad,” she said. “You’re grieving the old relationship with how the person used to be, but you need to be open to a new relationship with who they are now. That can really help.”
It also helps to have a reminder of the better days. Before Stenekes left for India as part of a Canada Youth Exchange program, her mom wrote her a note. It is now in a frame beside Stenekes’s bed, along with one of her mother’s bracelets.
“That’s my way of remembering her every day,” she said.
All of the challenges Stenekes has faced and continues to face take an exceptional amount of strength — and a good dose of that bravery her mother noticed in her when she was a young girl.
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