Alcohol is a group-one carcinogen and is estimated to be one of the top three causes of cancer deaths worldwide. A person walks past shelves of bottles of alcohol on display at an LCBO in Ottawa on March 19, 2020.Adrian Wyld/The Canadian Press
Kathy Andrews is the founder of Cinga Leadership and is based in North Vancouver, B.C.
Hearing the words “It’s cancer” was like a train hitting me.
In an instant, my world shrank to the size of a pinhole. A movie of my life began playing on a loop in my mind. I was terrified.
I grew up in South Africa, in Paarl, the largest town in the Cape Winelands district, where wine is practically a food group.
My family were not heavy drinkers; in fact, my mum was a teetotaller. But almost every dinner table I sat at growing up had a bottle of wine on it. Wine was seen as sophisticated, a good companion to meals and great for your soul.
Like many, I grew up hearing smoking could kill you and drugs are bad, so I avoided them. But I didn’t get those messages about alcohol.
After finishing my undergraduate degree, I headed to London. My flatmates and I became typical weekend warriors – completely broke but having the times of our lives and spending most of our money on Guinness.
In 2001, I moved to Canada. Between socializing, long hours climbing the corporate ladder, pursuing my Master’s degree and quick-fix meals, I had a fitness routine that involved little more than lifting a cup of coffee – or a glass of wine.
In 2016, when I was just 38 years old, with my 17-month-old beautiful baby boy at home, I felt a lump in my breast. Cancer.
In the overwhelming wake of this devastating news, we sprang into action, making changes that included healthier eating and trying to get more sleep and exercise. My priority was, first and foremost, getting through the treatments – 14 months of chemo, three surgeries and countless medications. Between 2016 and 2019, I attended between 400 and 500 medical appointments.
It was brutal.
I cut back on alcohol, but I didn’t cut it out completely. I didn’t think I needed to. I got mixed messages about that from my care team.
Later, when I had the headspace and capacity to do more research, I realized what the stats were actually saying.
Alcohol is a group-one carcinogen. This week, the U.S. Surgeon-General called for risk warnings to be included on alcoholic beverages, similar to the labelling found on cigarettes and other tobacco products. It’s estimated to be one of the top three causes of cancer deaths worldwide. The statistics don’t lie. As little as three to six drinks a week puts you at risk for several different cancers, including breast and colon.
So why wasn’t I warned about it?
Last year, my cancer unfortunately returned. This time, it metastasized into my bones.
Radiation seems to have stabilized my condition and today I feel healthier than ever – I work out, eat a balanced diet, manage my stress and I don’t drink at all. And I don’t take for granted how precious every moment is.
There is no alcohol at my dinner table any more – my child knows the risks, and it won’t be glamourized for him. I hope to be afforded many more meals with him, with my family and, hopefully one day, my grandchildren.
I want the same for you.
I’m often asked what cancer has taught me or about the changes I’ve made through this journey. The one thing that shocks people most is that I’ve completely given up alcohol.
I’m often met with blank stares, followed by the inevitable “So you don’t drink at all any more?” or “Do you think it played a role?” or “But you were never a heavy drinker!”
Most people have no idea that cocktails should come with a warning label. The risks are real and the socially accepted drinking habits we form are powerful.
We need to rethink our relationship with alcohol. Programs that ask people to give up alcohol for a month, like Go Dry, which supports the Canadian Cancer Society, can be a good place to start.
When you hear the words “alcohol causes cancer,” it stops you in your tracks. I know, for me, had I known that growing up, I would have abstained or drank a whole lot less.
Not everyone who smokes gets cancer and not everyone who drinks gets cancer. But I did. Not once but twice.
The truth is hard to swallow. But we’ve had tough conversations about smoking, the sun, sugar, inactivity – now it’s time to talk about alcohol.
My family needs me here and I want to live. So, let’s take action by rethinking our relationship with alcohol, which can cut our time with loved ones short.
Our lives and the lives of the ones we love are worth it.