Elza-Marie van Lille: Global Hero of Hope (Survivor and Caregiver)
CANSA is pleased to introduce Elza-Marie van Lille as a Relay For Life Global Hero of Hope. What began as a lump discovered while on holiday soon became a life-changing diagnosis, setting Elza-Marie on a journey that would test her strength, faith and resolve in unimaginable ways. Today, living in remission, Elza-Marie continues to inspire others through her positivity and perseverance, reminding everyone affected by cancer that hope is real, support matters, and no one has to walk this journey alone.
“We were on holiday when I discovered a lump in my left breast. I wasn’t too concerned at first, but my husband insisted that I see a doctor without delay. I told him I would make an appointment once we were back home.
When we returned, I scheduled a mammogram. The mammogram didn’t pick up the lump, so I showed it to the radiologist. She suggested that we do an ultrasound (sonar). The sonar was done and the doctor told me it didn’t seem to be anything of concern.
I mentioned that my mom had been diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 70. I also explained that I have a child with special needs and couldn’t afford to take any chances. The doctor called in another colleague, who could see I wasn’t completely convinced that everything was fine. He then referred me to a surgeon.
The surgeon examined me and suggested that we do a biopsy. I still believed the lump couldn’t possibly be cancer — after all, I had my child with Down Syndrome to take care of.
A week later, I went back to have the stitches removed. My husband and best friend both offered to come with me, but I told them it wasn’t necessary — it was just a routine follow-up.
At the doctor’s rooms, the nurse removed the stitches and asked me to see the doctor. He sat me down and said, “I don’t have good news. What are your plans for Monday… or Tuesday?”
I told him I had to stand in for a colleague who was going on leave. He looked at me and said gently, “You need to schedule a mastectomy.”
In that moment, my whole world fell apart. How could this be possible? What about my children — my little girl with Down Syndrome, only seven years old, and my eldest, just nine? What about my husband, my parents, my friends, my work? This couldn’t be real.
And that’s how my cancer journey began.
As I left the rooms, a lady at reception handed me an inspirational bookmark. On my way home, I phoned my husband and best friend with the news. Minutes after I arrived home, my husband was there. He hugged me and said, “We’ll beat this — just like we’ve beaten everything else.”
Soon after, my parents arrived. An hour later, my best friend was there. The next day, my brother drove all the way from Namibia to support me.
The rest of my journey was filled with angels who walked this path with me. When I wanted to give up, they never did. Through this experience, strangers became friends.
After my mastectomy, I began chemotherapy and then radiation. I never attended a single chemo session without my husband by my side. The day before each session, my colleagues — who had become dear friends — would take me out for a drink to lift my spirits.
Then came the 33 sessions of radiation. I finished my final session on 15 September 2015 — our 14th wedding anniversary.
That marked the end of my treatment journey. It wasn’t easy — far from it — but it taught me so much about life. It gave me perspective, strength, and above all, HOPE.
Today, I still go for my follow-ups every six months, and I remain in remission by the grace of God. Hope has become my life’s motto. While there is hope, we cannot give up. I know that without the incredible people who surrounded me, I would never have made it through as I did.
Now, I am able to show others that there is always hope. My friends often tell me I’m a living example of positivity and perseverance. Many people who have been diagnosed with cancer reach out to me to share their stories, to ask how I managed, or how they can support their loved ones.
To everyone who has walked — and continues to walk — this journey with me, I salute you.”






