Chapter 1 - How We Got Here.

(KW)   Picture this:  May, 2023 – I was going about my business of being a Corporate Supplier Diversity Manager by day, and a part-time Group Fitness Instructor by night. 2022 had been a big transition year for me.  I had been on a fitness journey and had gotten in a lot better shape. I was almost a year into a great, new job at GE Appliances. I had visited their Louisville campus several times, each time, having a blast, and had great travel plans, both personal and business, planned for the remainder of 2023.  Well, you know what they say… ‘If you want to make God laugh, make plans.’

I started having a couple of pains in my side.  My first thought was that my dog had pulled me too hard as I was walking him, but after a few nights of it not subsiding, I decided to schedule a doctor’s appointment.  I had researched it on WebMD and I was *pretty* sure they were going to admit me for an emergency appendectomy.  While I wasn’t in searing pain, when I went to my normal family practice doctor for my 9AM appointment, I took a bag with my deodorant, toothbrush, iPad and charger.  I told my husband to be prepared to come to the ER later that evening.

But the doctor’s appointment did not go how I thought it would.  I give credit to my family doctor.  She quickly dismissed my theory about needing my appendix removed.  She asked a battery of qualifying questions, each one more serious-sounding than the previous one.  And to my surprise, I found myself saying “yes” to most of them.  She typed, rapid-fire, on her keyboard and started ordering tests.  I said to her, “You think this is cancer, don’t you?”  And she said, “We need to rule it out.”

A blood test led to a CT scan.  The CT scan led to a PET scan.  The PET scan led to a biopsy.  And the biopsy led to the conclusive findings that I have cancer.  When they called me to schedule my first appointment at the oncologist’s office, I, of course, knew.  I angrily said to both my mother and husband, “I wouldn’t be seeing an oncologist if it wasn’t cancer!” 

The 9 days leading up to that June appointment were a blur…surprisingly, I wasn’t an emotional wreck.  I was more in research mode.  I read everything I could find on the internet – ranging from the Journal of American Medicine to blog sites.  One of the best things I did, however, was join a particular Facebook group of people who have my exact type of cancer.  It is amazing 1) how many people are a part of it, 2) how many are my age or younger, and; 3) how many stories are just.like.mine.  Like, eerily similar.  More on this Facebook group, later….

We drove about 45 minutes from our home to Danville, PA, where my medical system has their main hospital and campus.  We met first with a Fellow, and then the doctor that was actually the Chair of their Cancer program.  Their message was dire.  They both advised that I needed to start chemo immediately and the goal was to prolong my life.  I asked about surgery (because, as you can image, I want it out of me) and was told that I was not a surgical candidate.  I rephrased my question and asked what needed to happen in order to become a surgical candidate.  To which the doctor responded, “that is highly unlikely.”  We left in a daze, but at least had the sense enough to walk across the medical campus to the records office.  We asked for my scans and all my test results and in 5 minutes, they handed over a disc.  When we got in the car, I posted on that Facebook group what had just happened.  Before we pulled in our driveway, I had no less than 40 other people saying that their local oncologists had told them the same thing when they had their first meeting.  And they shared that they had gotten a much different message and treatment plan when they ventured out of their home towns and went to either a large cancer institute, or had simply requested to meet with a surgical oncologist.

Thus began the largest “sourcing RFP” I’ve ever run.  The month of June consisted of a routine like this:  I would call a major cancer center and talk to their scheduling desk.  I would request an appointment as a new patient. They would request my scans to be sent to them before they would agree to even a consult.  My husband would burn a copy.  I would FedEx them off.  I would get a call back telling me yes, they had received them and yes, they would schedule me for a consult. 

Through both the Facebook group, and a woman at GE Appliances who has become a dear friend, the name “Memorial Sloan Kettering” kept popping up.  Since we’re in Central PA, we figured it wasn’t too far of a drive and that became the front-runner as I searched for a new treatment “home.”

In mid-July, we made the drive to Manhattan.   We met with a team of doctors (not just one, which was really great) and they laid out a plan.  Or at least a path to a plan, if that makes sense.  They became the “captain” of my medical team and started communicating with a local oncology center (15 minutes away from our house) on the exact “chemo cocktail” that I should receive, moving forward.

As we were driving back to PA that evening, I said to my husband that I was worried that they had really said the same thing as the first oncologist that we met with….but they had just said it nicer, and in a much classier, snazzier building.  He disagreed, and said they said I wasn’t a surgical candidate yet and they had laid out a path to get there.   

And that, folks, is the first chapter in my cancer story. 

More posts/updates to come….

P.S.  For privacy reasons, I’ve decided that I don’t want to publicly share what type of cancer I have or what stage it is.  But, as most of you will be able to gather from reading this blog moving forward, it’s not an easy or simple cancer (not that any cancers are).  A simple Google search tells me how dire the statistics are, but I try to not doom scroll too much.  I’m trying to focus my energy on 1) my chemotherapy treatments, 2) my mental health, 3) my work – which fuels me and give me purpose in life (not to mention, the most wonderful health insurance, which I feel incredibly grateful and blessed), and; 4) my friends and family.