15 Years
Cancer-Free
Today ✨
Some stories need to be told. If sharing mine can help even one person, then every word is worth writing.
Some experiences change your life. Others change the way you understand life itself.
Today, October 15, 2026, marks my 15-year anniversary of being cancer-free. And during Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I find myself thinking not only about what happened to me, but about the women I've met along the way, the stories they've trusted me with, and how much I've learned about fear, hope, and the kindness we need from one another.
When Everything Changed
Throughout my entire cancer journey, I never received chemotherapy, which is why many people find my healing story to be incredible. Even today, fifteen years later, I struggle to describe what I felt the day I found out I was healed. Relief is too small a word.
When I was first diagnosed with stage three breast cancer on July 19, 2006, it changed my life- I can honestly admit not a day has gone by where cancer in one way or another has crossed my mind. I underwent a bilateral mastectomy that October, got an infection and was too sick to do chemotherapy. Four years later, cancer had spread to all lobes of my lungs and bones. I now had advanced stage four breast cancer. I tried to do radiation but got another infection halfway through and cancer was still progressing
That September, my physician at UCLA told me nothing else could be done and to go home, talk to my family, and get my affairs in order. His prognosis was that I had only months to live.
There is a unique kind of fear that comes with hearing those words that I still struggle to describe. It renders you powerless, which means fear is present, and you turn everything over to God and pray. The future I had been imagining was gone. My friends and family around me cared but continued making plans for the future, and when they spoke with me, I could sense their awkwardness because they did not want to say something insensitive.
I felt alone in a way I had never experienced before. I felt frightened,and a strange disconnected feeling from the world around me. I didn't understand it then, but that loneliness, fear and pain would change the way I saw other people's suffering for the rest of my life.
I Prayed Fiercely
As the physical pain worsened, it was a reminder about how little time the physician had told me I had. But I felt there was more I could do. Thinking about saying goodbye to so many people I loved felt unbelievable, and I wasn't ready for that, so I didn't give up, and I began searching for another path. I chose to pursue treatment with Dr. Edgar Payán at CMN Hospital in San Luis Río Colorado, Mexico.
Treatment began on February 7, 2011, and by October 15 that same year, I received the results of my PET scan, and I was completely healed- the treatment I received from Dr. Payán and his team saved my life.
I believe with all my heart that God heard my prayers, and I will never stop being grateful. Fifteen years is an extraordinary amount of life when you've been told you have only months left. Today, I have seven grandchildren. I've watched children grow, celebrated birthdays, made wonderful friends, written, created, laughed, and enjoyed countless ordinary moments I once feared I would never experience.
The Gift of Time
October is one of my favorite times of year in Wyoming. Aspen Alley, where the photograph I'm sharing was taken, is one of my favorite places to visit. I love being surrounded by those beautiful autumn colors, knowing how fortunate I am to be here for another October.
For years, I've spent time coaching women facing cancer. They came from different backgrounds, with different diagnoses and circumstances, but so many shared something I recognized immediately. They were frightened and standing at a crossroads. They wanted to know which treatment to choose, whether they were making the right decisions. I knew what that felt like to have those questions unanswered and have no guarantee.
Finding Someone Who Understands
When your life is at stake, you wish someone could show you where each road leads before you decide and take a step in a certain direction. I know what it's like to be so frightened that you can't hold yourself together anymore. I know what it's like to be angry about what's happening to your body, to cry because you don't want to die, because you love your family, because there's so much life you still want to experience.
When a woman is sitting across from me, apologizing because she's falling apart, I want her to understand something. She can unravel with me. She doesn't have to be composed. She doesn't have to choose her words carefully or worry that she's making me uncomfortable. I don't need her to pretend she's okay. I want to be that safe person for her. Because I remember how badly I needed someone like that.
I've been told I'm sensitive, and I am. I'm glad I feel things deeply. I believe sensitivity helps us recognize another person's pain. Empathy is developed that way, and it helps us have compassion and patience.
It takes patience to listen when someone needs to talk about the same fear more than once or to sit quietly while someone cries, to hear anger without taking it personally, and to resist rushing in with advice when someone hasn't even finished telling you how badly they're hurting.
Surviving stage four cancer doesn't mean I know which decisions another woman should make. But I know what fear and confusion feel like, all while holding on to Faith in God. The women I've coached have trusted me with their fears, their hopes, and some of the most private thoughts a person can share. I don't take that trust lightly.
Compassion Without Judgment
I never want my survival to suggest that I made better decisions than a woman who chose differently and had an unfavorable outcome. A different outcome does not mean someone made the wrong decision. Their lives were no less precious. Their prayers were no less sincere. Their courage was no less remarkable.
I know that someone can have tremendous faith, receive excellent medical care, make thoughtful treatment decisions, and still not get the outcome they desired.
Life offers no guarantees. And I will never believe that my being here today means I was more deserving than someone else.
To Everyone Who Helped Me
As I reflect on this anniversary, I think about everyone who helped me through my journey.
My girlfriends who raised money when I desperately needed help-it took us five months, and racing the clock is stressful. My family, friends, and strangers who gave what they could. Dr. Edgar Payán and his medical team at CMN Hospital, whose treatment saved my life.
If you're facing a frightening diagnosis today, I hope you have compassionate medical care and someone who will be patient and listen when you need to talk about what you're going through.
And if someone you love is facing something frightening, please remember you don't need the perfect words. You don't have to know how to fix everything. Sometimes you just need to listen long enough for that person to feel heard. I know how much that matters because I needed it myself.
