Brain cancer struck Darrell Rice’s family twice… but it didn’t defeat them

By Darrell Rice, Special To The Shoreline

My family’s experience with brain tumours began in 2010. My father Darren was getting ready to head out and haul cod nets when he suddenly suffered a seizure. I remember that day like it was yesterday. After further testing and an MRI, he was diagnosed with a brain tumour.
At the time, my sister and I were still young and didn’t fully understand what a brain tumour diagnosis meant. We knew our dad was sick, but we couldn’t grasp the long-term impact it would have on our family. Despite the diagnosis, my father faced radiation and chemotherapy treatments with incredible strength and determination. Looking back now I have an even greater appreciation for what he endured. I also have a tremendous appreciation for my mother, who stood beside him through every appointment, treatment, setback, and challenge.
I remember my mother telling me that when my father was diagnosed, questions were raised about whether his children could someday face a similar diagnosis. The answer they received at the time was essentially no, and they were told not to worry about it.
Life carried on but cancer was always there in the background.
In 2019, while I was attending flight school in Gander, I received a phone call from my mother telling me that my father’s cancer had progressed. The months that followed were some of the most difficult of my life. My mother, sister, and I did everything we could to care for him. We made countless trips back and forth to St. John’s for appointments and treatments. We watched as the disease slowly took more and more from him.
At that stage of my life, I had plans, goals, and dreams I was working toward. I loved aviation and was pursuing flight training on a part time basis. However, when my father’s condition worsened, everything else became secondary. I felt a responsibility to be there for him and my family. Looking back I don’t regret that decision for a second, but I never did return to flight training.
My father passed away in March 2020. Losing him was incredibly difficult. To make matters even harder it happened during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. Like many families, we were grieving while navigating restrictions and uncertainty. For a long time it felt as though cancer had taken over our lives.
Eventually, I knew I had to keep moving forward. But I found myself at a crossroads. One path I seriously considered was joining the Canadian Armed Forces. It had always been something that interested me. I was drawn to the sense of service, discipline, teamwork, and purpose that comes with military life.
For a period of time, I gave it a lot of thought and considered pursuing that path. However, life took me in a different direction. Instead I continued my education, eventually attending College of the North Atlantic alongside my sister. My sister pursued Medical Laboratory Technology, and I enrolled in Business Administration. We both graduated with honours and eventually found careers with Newfoundland and Labrador Health Services.
For the first time in years, it felt like life was moving forward again.
Although I missed my father every day, I felt like I was finally able to focus on my future. I eventually decided to pursue another dream of mine: becoming a Registered Nurse. Having worked in Emergency Medical Services as an Emergency Medical Responder after high school, I had always respected nurses and the impact they have on people’s lives. I applied to the Bachelor of Science in Nursing Accelerated Program and was accepted for Fall 2025.
Then, in May 2025, everything changed.
I suffered a seizure. After undergoing scans and testing, doctors confirmed that I had a brain tumour.
Ironically, when I received the diagnosis, I wasn’t nearly as shocked as most people would expect. Having lived through my father’s diagnosis and battle, I immediately understood what the words “brain tumour” meant. In some ways, it felt like my life had come full circle.
Since then, I have undergone surgery, radiation treatments, and chemotherapy. Thankfully, I have done very well and I remain incredibly grateful for the care I have received and for the support of my family and friends.
This experience has changed my perspective on life in ways I never expected. It has strengthened my faith, taught me not to take a single day for granted, and reminded me how quickly life can change.
One thing that has also surprised me is the connections I’ve made through this journey. I became friends with my buddy Andrew from Indiana, who was diagnosed with a brain tumour just two months before I was. Despite everything he has gone through, he continued playing college baseball and became one of the top players on his team. His strength, determination, and positive attitude have been an inspiration to me.
I have also tried to continue living life as fully as possible. Since my diagnosis I have travelled to Toronto to watch the Blue Jays, vacationed to Florida, and recently travelled to Montreal to see Luke Combs and was hoping to see the Montreal Canadians in Game 6 but they got put out while I was flying to Montreal -maybe next year! Those experiences have reminded me that while cancer may be part of my story, it does not define my entire life.
All of this brings me to the Brain Tumour Walk.
I decided to participate because brain tumours have shaped my life for more than half of it, first through my father and now through my own diagnosis.
The walk is an opportunity to honour my father’s memory, support others currently facing a diagnosis, and help raise awareness and funding for research. While treatments have improved over the years, there is still a long way to go. In a world filled with medical and technological advances, I believe there is reason to hope for better treatments, better outcomes, and ultimately a cure.
For this year’s walk, I created a team called Compass & Courage.
The compass represents guidance, faith, and staying the course when life becomes uncertain. It also represents my father and the influence he continues to have on my life. Courage represents the strength required to face a diagnosis like this and continue moving forward. The ribbon represents brain tumour awareness.
I walk in memory of my father. I walk for my friend Andrew. I walk for myself. Most importantly, I walk for every individual and family whose lives have been touched by a brain tumour.
My hope is that one day fewer families will have to experience what so many of us have gone through.
Thankfully, I continue to do very well. While brain cancer remains a part of my life, it does not define who I am.
I continue to work in Human Resources with Newfoundland and Labrador Health Services.
My faith has also become an important part of my journey, and I attend mass as often as I can. It has provided me with strength, hope, and perspective throughout this experience.
Looking ahead, I am exploring opportunities to further my education and continue building my career. Since my diagnosis, I have made it a priority to continue making memories, travelling and enjoying life as fully as possible.
While none of us know what the future holds, I remain positive, hopeful, and determined to keep moving forward.