SBS turns 50 in 2025 and so do hundreds of thousands of Australians. Insight asks — is turning 50 a big deal? From mid-life crises to menopause, finding undiscovered family members and starting afresh, watch Insight episode Turning 50 Tuesday 10 June at 8.30PM on SBS or live on SBS On Demand. Turning 50 was an exciting time for me.
Two years earlier, I contracted a rare form of double pneumonia (simultaneous infection in both lungs) that sent me into respiratory and heart failure. After coming out of an induced coma, I had to learn to read, walk and talk again. I was finally bouncing back to my normal self.
So, with a dream family holiday to Italy planned as a 50th birthday celebration, there was a lot to look forward to.
This was about to change drastically.
There was absolutely no reason for any concern when I sent it off.
I had no signs or symptoms of bowel cancer; I was very health conscious and active with swimming, hiking, and long walks with my dogs Daisy and Olly. Plus, my husband Dave had already done three tests with no issues.
About a month later, the results came back positive for me needing to get a colonoscopy.
Snezana with her two dogs Olly and Daisy during the period of her cancer treatment. Source: Supplied
No postponing the Roman holiday
After the colonoscopy, I was told that with many suspicious polyps, it looked like I had cancer.
At this stage, we all believed it was likely to be stage 1 or possibly stage 2 cancer. The plan was to remove a section of the sigmoid colon and 14 lymph nodes.
At the surgery appointment, the specialist said we’d need to schedule the operation for two weeks’ time.
I said that we’d have to postpone it as I was going to Italy with my husband and our daughter Emma on a holiday that had been years in the making.
We left the meeting that day in high spirits. Our Italy trip was only weeks away and the surgery and estimated recovery time seemed relatively straightforward.
Snezana and her family on their Italian holiday at the Colosseum in Rome, before her cancer surgery and treatment. Source: Supplied
Rome, Venice, Florence, Sorrento, and the Amalfi Coast were amazing. We arrived home refreshed, tanned and relaxed and in a good headspace to cope with what was to come.
A few days before surgery, I was sent for an MRI to double-check something that they had seen on my liver in a previous scan.
Prepped and ready to go — still feeling good — the MRI results came back the morning of surgery. There was a lesion on my liver.
Although it was not confirmed by pathology until later, in my heart, I knew straight away that I had gone from possibly stage 2 (at the worst) to stage 4 metastatic cancer.
I had no time to process this and went into theatre knowing that my husband and daughter had no idea of the challenges we were about to face.
This surgery, that was meant to take six hours, took 10 as they also had to remove a quarter of my liver.
And then came the news that I would be starting 12 rounds of chemotherapy.
Wearing gloves and using elbows
No one can really prepare you for chemotherapy.
The chemotherapy process itself and its side effects were tough — including neuropathy (nerve damage and pain) and neutropenia (an abnormally low count of white blood cells).
The pain would be triggered from even touching the kitchen bench or turning on the tap, but I challenged myself to work out different ways of managing it. Wearing gloves and using elbows became well-honed skills.
Some days were unbearably painful; the sheer lack of energy and strength to get up each day and endure the side effects was difficult.
Almost three-quarters of the way through treatment, I got a chest infection and bilateral blood clots in my lungs. This set back my recovery and forced me to rest much more.
I would really listen to my body and rest when I was struggling with the physical symptoms.
I would think about all the things I have to be grateful for in my life. I could still cook each day, catch up on all the shows I never had time for before, and appreciate the beauty of the sunrise.
Mentally, I felt strong and kept a positive outlook. Focusing one day at a time would help me get through it.
(Left) Snezana and her late mother’s best friend ‘Aunty’ Millie and (right) Snezana and her friend Noeline in the hospital. Source: Supplied
‘You just don’t know when your time is up’
I don’t have extended family in Australia, so my friends are a true extension of my family.
Without my dear friends Noeline, Helen and my second mum Millie, who I call Aunty, I would have been a recluse during treatment. They insisted on taking me to my appointments so I would never be alone.
We’d also often go to the beach or park to walk, enjoy the sea air, sit and talk. Just being out in nature gave me the strength to keep fighting.
Without the unwavering support and love of my family and core group of friends, my journey would be so much harder.
Snezana recently while in remission. Source: Supplied
It’s with absolute joy I say that as of 19 May of this year, I am officially in remission.
We will continue to monitor every three months, but for now, the treatment has worked.
Being ‘cancer-free’ does not mean I am out of the woods. Anyone facing stage 4 cancer would also know this.
It means that in this moment, I can focus on healing, recovering and enjoying the little things in life.
I haven’t been able to return to work but am now able to take my dogs out for walks twice a day now, which is something I couldn’t muster before. We’re also planning another trip to Europe next year — this time to Amsterdam.
Going through cancer treatment in my 50th year made me realise you just don’t know when your time is up. So, enjoy it and don’t get bogged down in what you can’t control.
I now might be clicking, clacking and cracking as I roll out of bed each day.
But it’s an extra day I once might not have had.
Your stories have shaped SBS for half a century. Together, we’re just getting started. Join us as we celebrate 50 years of belonging on our SBS50 portal and SBS50 content hub.