CANCER CAN SUCK IT

6/26/25

I don’t often talk about my past. In fact, most people in my life have no idea I had childhood cancer—let alone a rare form of it. But this year is monumental for me. This month marks 20 years in remission. Twenty years cancer-free. It feels like the right time to share the story that shaped the person I am today.

It all began when I was in 2nd grade, around seven years old. For two years, my health steadily declined—I gained weight, I was constantly sick, and my stomach pains sent me to the school nurse almost daily. My mom, worried but unsure, took me to our family doctor repeatedly. Each time, they chalked it up to gas and sent me home with X-rays. Then, one day at my grandma’s house, the pain intensified. Grandma, alarmed, noticed that my belly button had popped out and was tinged purple. Without hesitation, she called my mom and insisted we head to the emergency room.

At the ER, they did a CT scan. The initial results pointed to a small black dot, which the doctors thought might be the cause of my pain. I was promptly sent to the children’s hospital for further investigation. But when the specialists examined the scan, they found something far more alarming—two massive tumors in my abdomen. Surgery was scheduled immediately to remove and biopsy the tumors. They were the size of basketballs. Two weeks later, the results came back: the tumors were cancerous. Worse yet, another scan revealed both of my ovaries were also cancerous.

At the time, a child having ovarian cancer was unheard of. Even in adult women, it was rare for both ovaries to be affected; it was almost always just one. The rarity of my case prompted collaboration between the children’s hospital and Magee-Womens Hospital, where they devised a plan for surgery and chemotherapy. For about a year, I underwent an intense treatment regimen, spending one month in the hospital followed by two weeks at home. My mom quit her job to stay with me during this period—a sacrifice I still deeply appreciate. Not all parents could do that, and I remember feeling heartbroken for the kids who faced surgeries and pain without their parents by their side. My mom, however, explained everything to me with patience and clarity, helping me process things as best as a child could.

In total, I endured nine surgeries. I was a picky eater, so my grandparents would bring me ravioli and other microwavable foods to make sure I had something I liked, as hospital food back then left much to be desired. During this time, a doctor discovered another issue—my thyroid wasn’t functioning at all. They couldn’t determine if the thyroid problem had caused the ovarian cancer or if the cancer had caused my thyroid to stop working. Either way, I was put on thyroid and hormone medication, which I’ll need for the rest of my life.

After my treatments, I began regular check-ups. Initially, I went back every three months for scans. Then, as time passed and I remained cancer-free, the intervals stretched to six months, then a year. By the time I reached the 10-year mark, the scans stopped. Most children stop going to the hospital at 18, but because of my rare case, I continued annual check-ups until I was 25. These days, I see specialists locally—a thyroid doctor and a gynecologist.

Losing both ovaries meant I could never have children. For a long time, this reality devastated me. I would dream about what it might have been like to have a child with my best friend. It felt so cruel; there are so many people who have children they don’t even want, yet I couldn’t. But as time passed, I began to see things differently. I realized that everything happens for a reason, even if that reason isn’t clear right away.

Now, I see with clarity that my journey led me to pour my heart and soul into something else: my dogs. They are my world. Every ounce of love and energy I have goes into them and the business I’ve built around them. I strive to show others the deep connection you can have with a dog if you take the time. I know that if I had kids, this life—this purpose—wouldn’t have been possible. It’s a life I’ve grown to be profoundly grateful for.

A couple of years ago, when I opened my heart to God, I began to see the bigger picture. From anonymous checks arriving just in time to cover tests to the pastor who joined our club for bird dogs, I’ve come to believe these moments were not coincidences. They were guiding me toward this life of caring for and loving my animals.

If the opportunity to have a child ever presents itself, Justin and I would embrace it wholeheartedly. But at this 20-year milestone, we are content. We are devoted to our animals, ensuring they have the best lives possible. And in doing so, I’ve found peace and fulfillment in a path I never expected but now wouldn’t trade for anything.

You never know what someone is going through or has gone through. Always be kind and a light in this world.