My Story
“He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.” — 2 Corinthians 1:3–4
My journey tested my faith, fear was right there with me as I reached out and had faith. It wasn’t about having all the answers; it was about holding on, even when I was afraid. Now, I can sit beside another woman and tell her that even through fear, there’s still light ahead. If you'd like to explore this part of my story, take your time going through it and feel free to reach out to me by filling out my contact form if you want to understand more.
My story begins with a cancer diagnosis that changed everything. What followed shaped me in ways I’m still understanding today. My faith stayed with me, even when fear was right there beside me. I didn’t have all the answers, but I kept holding on. And now, when I sit with another woman who feels that same uncertainty, I can gently remind her there is still light ahead. Every woman’s life unfolds in its own way. This is one story—mine. If you feel drawn to read more, take your time here. And if you’d like to reach out, you’re always welcome to connect with me through my contact form.
CMN Hospital-
July 19, 2006
This was the day my life changed forever. I was sitting at the UW Medical Center in Seattle when I heard the words no woman is ever prepared for—I had been diagnosed with stage 3 hormone-positive, HER2-negative invasive ductal breast cancer. There were three tumors in my left breast, and another—the largest—had already spread into the lymph nodes under my left arm.
October 2006
I went through a bilateral mastectomy, believing it was the step I needed to move forward. What I wasn’t prepared for was what came after. The emotional impact hit me in a way no one had talked about. It felt like something had been taken from the core of who I was as a woman, and I had to process that on my own. The recovery itself was difficult. I developed a serious staph infection, and everything became more complicated than I expected. During that time, I began looking at other ways to support my body. I was never strong enough to go through chemotherapy or radiation, and after surgery, things seemed stable for a while.
May 2008
About a year and a half later, I was told everything looked clear based on my lab results. I remember feeling relief, like I could finally breathe again. But not long after, something didn’t feel right. I developed a persistent cough and pain in my ribs that I couldn’t ignore. Even when the tests didn’t immediately show answers, I knew I had to keep pushing for them. That season taught me to listen closely to my body and to pay attention when something feels off, even when everything on paper looks fine.
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June 2010
In June of 2010, everything changed again. The cancer had returned, and this time it was stage 4. I went to UCLA searching for answers, but it wasn’t the tests that first told me something was wrong—it was my body. I was dealing with chest pain, swelling in my sternum, and a cough that wouldn’t go away. When the testing was done, it confirmed what I was already feeling. The cancer had spread to my sternum, ribs, lungs, lymph nodes, and clavicle.
There were more procedures and more decisions to make, and everything started moving very quickly. I went through surgery to address severe pain, and I also received radiation to my sternum and clavicle. Complications followed, including a serious staph infection and pneumonia, and I wasn’t able to complete the full course of treatment that had been planned. It was physically exhausting, and emotionally, it was just as heavy trying to take it all in.
September 9, 2010
This is a date I will never forget. I was told I had three to twelve months to live. My daughter Jessica recorded the appointment so I could listen to it later. I remember sitting there, hearing those words, and trying to understand what that meant for my life. I was encouraged to begin preparing—to put my affairs in order and focus on being comfortable. I walked out of that appointment carrying something no one is ever ready to hear.
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Late 2010
After that appointment, everything became very real. I went home carrying the weight of what I had been told, knowing time suddenly felt limited. But something in me wasn’t ready to accept that as the end of my story. I began searching, asking questions, and looking for something that might give me a chance.
That’s when I found CMN Hospital in San Luis, Sonora, Mexico, and learned about Dr. Payán and his approach. It felt different from anything I had heard before, and I knew I needed to try. The reality was, I didn’t have the financial means to go, but I wasn’t alone. My best friend Heather and an incredible group of friends stepped in beside me. Together, we worked to raise what was needed. It took five months, and every bit of it mattered.
February 7, 2011
On February 7, 2011, I was admitted to CMN Hospital as a patient under Dr. Payán’s care. Walking through those doors, I didn’t know exactly what was ahead, but I knew I had made a decision to keep going. That moment marked the beginning of something I will always carry with me.
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2011: CMN Hospital
The care I received at CMN Hospital was very different from anything I had experienced before. By that point, my body had already been through so much. After radiation and a serious infection, I was too weak for chemotherapy, and I had been told I only had months to live. I made the decision to trust Dr. Payán and his approach because I knew I needed something different.
What I experienced there was comprehensive. It wasn’t just one thing—it was the way everything worked together, day after day, supporting my body when it needed it most. It gave me a sense of strength I hadn’t felt in a long time.
If you’re interested in learning more about the treatments themselves, you can take your time reading through them here: https://cmnadvancedcancertreatment.com/treatments. What worked for me is part of my story, and every person has to decide what feels right for them.
Today
Today, I am cancer-free. By August 2011, my symptoms had resolved, and on October 15, 2011, a PET scan confirmed there was no evidence of cancer in my body.
When I look back, I see how many decisions had to be made along the way, and how much my faith carried me through each one. I believe God had His hand on my life through all of it. There is still hope, even when someone is told there is very little time left, and I hold onto that every single day.
Before Cancer
From one Christian sister to another, may you feel His arms around you as you read my story.
I believe the pain we have walked through is never wasted — in God’s hands, our story can become the very encouragement someone else needs in their darkest moment.
I never imagined that one day, I would be sitting across from women, coaching them, listening to their stories, and seeing my own reflection in their pain. But here I am, helping them find a way through.
I have sat with women who have shared their darkest moments—whispered stories, tears in their eyes, and voices carrying years of pain. And through them, I began to see my own story differently. I started to understand that God was in the details the entire time. Even in the moments I thought He had abandoned me, even when I couldn’t hear Him, He was still there.
Journey of the Heart Coaching was born from those realizations—from the understanding that healing is not just possible, it’s waiting for us. The stories we carry are not the end of us; they are the beginning of something greater. Even when life feels shattered beyond repair, God is still working in the broken pieces.
But looking back, I can see it now—God was shaping me the entire time.
In 1997, my life took a dramatic turn. I was a victim of a crime that left me with deep emotional and physical scars. Panic, anxiety, and fear became my everyday reality. My faith was still there, but fear consumed it, making it hard to hold onto hope.
When the perpetrator was released from prison, he made sure I knew he hadn’t forgotten me. This was a time when we still used payphones for emergencies—you couldn’t dial 911 from a cell phone or record what was happening. For two years, I was followed and threatened. He left notes on my car, always waiting for me after work. The torment of feeling watched made me feel like I was losing my mind. Despite my reports and restraining orders, he remained hidden. I isolated myself more and more for protection, but that only made me feel lonelier and more vulnerable.
He attacked me multiple times, leaving me with physical injuries. The fear for my life and my loved ones was overwhelming. I couldn’t see a way out. When you’re in that place—terrified and exhausted—it’s hard to imagine hope. But I had to make difficult choices that would eventually lead me to safety. I knew God was with me, guiding me, but I had no idea how much this experience would change my life.
“When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.” — Psalm 56:3
Starting Over: A New Name, A New Life
Starting over was incredibly challenging—emotionally, psychologically, physically, and spiritually. I was part of a program called "Victims of Crime." They helped me obtain a new name, a new social security number, and relocation, but I had to start my life over without a single trace of my past. I moved 1,100 miles away to a small town in Port Orchard, WA. It was easier to hide, but I felt utterly alone in this unfamiliar place.
When I was given the opportunity to choose my new last name, I prayed over it. I chose Knight as a reminder to “put on the full armor of God” from Ephesians 6:10–18. In the years of fear and uncertainty that followed, my name became more than just a way to protect my identity—it was a daily reminder that I am never truly alone. Every time I saw or heard it, I remembered that God Himself was my shield, my defender, and the One who would help me stand when I felt I couldn’t.
I arrived in Port Orchard on the 4th of July—Independence Day. That timing was not lost on me. It felt like God’s way of marking my new life with a promise of freedom, not just from the one who hurt me, but from the fear that had wrapped itself around my heart. That day became my own personal Independence Day, a reminder that even in the hardest beginnings, God can lead us into a place of safety, hope, and new identity.
Faith Through Illness and Healing
Six years into my new life, in 2006, I faced a new battle—this time, to my health. I was diagnosed with stage III breast cancer, and it felt like the ground was pulled out from under me. The shock left me feeling vulnerable and lost. The bilateral mastectomy was more than a physical change; it felt like losing a part of my womanhood and identity. The greatest blessing in the midst of that pain was the sisterhood I eventually formed in Washington—a group of friends who became my family. By 2008, I was declared cancer-free, and my gratitude was beyond words.
Finding Strength and Purpose
In 2010, I faced a devastating recurrence of cancer—this time, stage IV. The doctors at UCLA told my family and me that there was no chance of remission. They gave me months to live.That day, I went to the beach, poured my heart out to God, and begged Him for more time. I had no idea how, but I knew I wasn’t done yet.
Through the generosity of friends and fundraising, I found CMN Hospital in Mexico and pursued alternative cancer treatments. By October 2011, I was cancer-free. Dr. Payan and his team saved my life, and I have never stopped being grateful for that second chance.