Devastated.

That's how Barb Clark felt when she was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor in 1995. With that diagnosis, the life she knew changed in an instant. But today, participating in the annual Terry Fox Marathon of Hope is just one way she gives back.

During the final game of her son's summer hockey game she felt something weird happening to her. She became cold, shaky and although she saw people's mouths moving, she couldn't understand what they were saying.

When the game was over she went to the hospital, where she suffered a stroke, sitting in the waiting room after having a grand mal seizure. She was sent by ambulance to St. Michael's Hospital in Toronto for neurological tests.

She had a spinal tap and a CT scan, yet she remembers none of that. But she does remember the look of worry on her husband's face - a look she'll never forget. She was told everything looked okay and that they were going to schedule her for an MRI, just to be safe.

Her appointment was in November. In the following month Ms. Clark received a phone call from her family physician and, unaware that she had not yet heard the news, he started talking about a brain tumour. She started to shake and felt weak.

Ms. Clark's life took an unexpected turn after being sent to a neurosurgeon. She was given two years to live. Her tumour wasn't in the form of a solid lesion; but was spread out in a number of cells and therefore inoperable. On advising her of it, the neurosurgeon continued to speak, but she didn't hear anything.

The next step was to meet with an oncologist. But after going home and getting angry she cancelled her appointment. She wanted other opinions before accepting this diagnosis.

A friend had suggested she go to a support group, which she did. However, she didn't like the first group she chose, leaving after just three meetings because everyone there was so depressed. Each week there was always one less person.

So she took a break from support groups before attending one in Kitchener, where she found everyone was happy, simply because they were still alive. Being around people going through the same situation was a comfort zone.

Her life changed for the better when she met Dr. Rolando Del Maestro, a nearly-seven-foot-tall pediatric neurosurgeon. Ms. Clark remembers going to his office and sitting in a small chair surrounded by elephants on the wall. She recalls feeling so much warmth from him when he sat down with her, on one of the small child seats, and looked her in the eye while meeting her for the first time.

She told him how long she was given to live, to which he replied that no one knows how long anyone will live. He then listed her options with the tumour. She could have a biopsy or surgery, and he said both have risks. She immediately rejected the idea of a biopsy, as they are too dangerous and could cause her to die, or have a seizure or a stroke.

Instead, she went for MRIs every six months. In 2003, Dr. Del Maestro noticed some changes and gave her two days to get to Montreal for surgery. She remained awake during the surgery so that the doctor would know right away if something was going wrong.

To the joy of her husband Jim, son Brendan and daughter Jaime-Lyn, the eight-hour surgery was a success.

"This was the toughest time of my life, but I don't dwell on it," she said. Her daughter had just started school before her mother's surgery and quit to become her caregiver.

While her mother was sick Jaime-Lyn wrote a letter. It reads as follows: Dear God,

I am trusting in you to take care of her. Please help her to be strong and keep fighting.

Help her to understand when she asks, "Why me?"

She is a positive woman; just help her to stay that way.

I know she is scared, please tell her that it is okay to show her fear because we all are scared too.

Please take care of her, help her to keep faith and stay happy.

I love her, no one can replace her so please don't take her from us just yet; she isn't ready to leave yet.

That letter still brings tears to Ms. Clark's eyes.

Unable to continue doing her job at a cancer detection unit, due to aphasia as a result of the surgery, she went back to school to become a personal support worker. She graduated in 1999 with honours from Georgian College and finds working with people is something she loves to do.

She also became a palliative care worker over the years and has immensely enjoyed the time she spent with those she helped, calling it a gift to be with them in their final moments.

Prior to her first Terry Fox Run in 1995, Ms. Clark was unaware that she had brain cancer.

Now she's going into her 13th year and will continue to participate as along as she can walk, and even if she can no longer walk, she will donate. Participating or donating is something she would like to see everyone do to help fund cancer research.

During the Run's 25th anniversary in 2005, Ms. Clark fired the shot to start the race. This is a memory she cherishes, as she felt honoured to be given that task.

This year's Terry Fox Run in Orangeville starts at the Tony Rose Memorial Sports Arena. The course is open from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Last year the local run raised $14,585.

For more information visit www.terryfoxrun.org or to volunteer call 519-941- 6472.