Survivorship can be an incredibly complicated place to land on a cancer journey. You’re told you’re “healthy,” yet your life is still measured in scans, follow-up appointments, lingering side effects, and the quiet fear that never fully leaves. It’s a strange in-between, no longer in active treatment, but never truly done with the weight of what you’ve been through. That’s why I got involved with the Race to Cure Sarcoma. It gave me purpose in the uncertainty and a way to turn everything I’ve endured into something that might help someone else with this extremely rare diagnosis.

My cancer journey initially began when I was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer at the age of 40. On a trip to Alaska that year, I was discussing breast cancer with

my friend and mentor. Later that night, I was alone and felt the spot on a self-exam in

the shower. Was I imagining this? The next day, during the flight home from Alaska, I

was alone with my thoughts and could not stop thinking of this spot. The flight from

Alaska was long, and panic had set in. I saw my provider and was assured it was

nothing; however, since I had turned 40 that year, it was time for a mammogram to be scheduled. I remember that day vividly: June 25, 2018: my first mammogram. I was in tears. Scared. Being curious, I even walked around the corner to the technician and pointed out the spot on the screen to her.

For anyone who has waited for a call from a medical provider when you are waiting for results, it is a scary, dark time. The unknown. I got “the call” two days before my

birthday. You have cancer. My initial thought? I can’t be diagnosed with cancer on my

birthday. I scheduled my follow-up biopsy for the following day. No one wants to be

diagnosed with cancer on their birthday!

After my initial diagnosis, I endured multiple surgeries, radiation, and therapy. For

anyone who knows me, I strive to face any challenge with confidence and resilience and keep a positive attitude. 

Powering through all the medical appointments and setbacks, I stayed positive and hit the 5-year survival mark for breast cancer! I celebrated my 5-year milestone with thankfulness and hope for the future. I felt I had finally stepped out of the storm and into my life again.

However, in July 2024, on a beautiful sunny day at the Lake Forest Lodge pool with

dear friends in the neighborhood, I felt a small bump on my neck. At first, it looked like a small bite. I asked my friends that day if they had noticed it as well. They did, but we dismissed it as a small bite. It was small and most likely was just a small lump or a lipoma. However, in the back of my mind, I had an uneasy feeling about the spot and became more concerned each day. I contacted my medical teams and surgeon immediately.

After seeing four different doctors (and countless random strangers in the grocery), I was told essentially the same thing: “a small lump, nothing to worry about.” However, in an unsettling way, they were consistent: they had never seen this before. Eventually, an ultrasound, scan, and a biopsy were conducted. To the surprise of my medical teams, the spot was cancer. This puzzled not only the medical teams in Louisville but also the pathology team. A new cancer unrelated to my breast cancer.

My pathology was sent to Harvard, Miami, and eventually MD Anderson for further

assessment. It racked up a few frequent flyer miles!

After several misdiagnoses, the determination was made that it was a high-grade

spindle cell undifferentiated sarcoma: one of the most aggressive forms of soft tissue

sarcoma! The doctors were puzzled and were brutally honest with me-the journey would be a tough one! I am forever grateful I listened to my gut and continued to seek answers!

Devastated by this news, I was determined to fight the battle hard with the support of

my family, friends, co-workers, and neighbors. Despite a successful surgery to remove the cancer, the determination would need to be made on the next steps in my care. I remember anxiously awaiting this decision; it was Halloween night, and kids were walking through the neighborhood for trick-or-treat. I always love to hand out candy in the neighborhood --- a true Lake Forest tradition. However, this night was different as I would look at my phone after every trick-or-treater left, as I knew the MD Anderson Tumor Board would be making a final determination that night, and I would be receiving the call that would change my life.

Consequently, on October 31, 2024, I received the phone call from the MD Anderson

Tumor Board and resulting in the need to travel back to Texas to visit for the next steps. I was delivered the news: I would need to endure inpatient, aggressive 24-hour-a-day chemotherapy. This would require around-the-clock care in the hospital. Visitors were extremely limited, and trips outside of the hospital room were extremely limited. (Ironically, my treatment occurred during the holiday season, and I was still able to ride around the neighborhood and look at the Lake Forest Christmas lights!)

By chance, while I was sick in the hospital, I saw a neighborhood Facebook post where an instructor was going to be teaching Mahjong in the neighborhood. I was excited and had something to look forward to. I told my husband I was going to go as soon as I was stronger. That day, attending my first mahjong lesson in the neighborhood, I was scared. Anxious. I had just finished chemo and was just getting my strength back. I had no hair. This was my first event out of the house. My scars were very prominent and still healing. I had little strength at the time. However, I wore my wig and gathered the courage to meet at a lovely neighbor’s home with seven strangers. These ladies had no idea of the journey I had been on for the past months. I craved some sort of normalcy and had not revealed the struggles I had been through the past year. By the second lesson, with a smile on my face, I gathered the courage to remove my wig, and they could see the true me. I never wore my wig after that day. I am truly grateful for these newfound friendships I have made in the neighborhood, and I treasure the support from these women each day! When anxiety is high before each scan, these friends have been instrumental in my emotional healing process and distracting my thoughts from a recurrence!

I am happy to say that for the last year, I have had no evidence of disease after a year filled with chemotherapy, surgeries, countless scans, and appointments with trips to MD Anderson to combat my sarcoma. But the journey is not over yet. I am still healing, rebuilding, and trying to reclaim the life I had before treatments and creating a new post-cancer journey. I still cry and have anxiety at each appointment. Scan-anxiety is real. But I am getting stronger every day and celebrate the small wins! I am forever grateful to my husband for sitting by my side through fear, anger, exhaustion, uncertainty, and endless appointments. My friends and family showed up in ways big and small and demonstrated a kind of compassion and love that makes the unbearable treatment feel survivable. I have learned a lot about myself and my community through this journey, and I hope that I can make a difference in another person’s life who has the uncertainty of a sarcoma diagnosis.

To continue to fight for those individuals who were misdiagnosed or given too few treatment options, and to celebrate my strength. We need more awareness, more advocacy, more research, and more options for everyone diagnosed with, caring for, or grieving someone with a sarcoma. Of all the cancers diagnosed each year, only 1% of those are sarcoma cancers. Early detection is the key!

The SFA and the Race To Cure Sarcoma have given me an outlet for my passion and to connect with other sarcoma survivors in the Louisville-Metro Area. If there is one thing I have learned, we need better treatment for sarcoma, and this comes with funding advanced research. For me, sharing part of my story means bringing awareness to our community about the need for additional research and medical providers in our state.

Race to Cure Sarcoma brings our community together across Louisville and the country to raise awareness and build meaningful connections for those impacted by this extremely rare disease. Please join me and others in Louisville on August 8, 2026, to honor loved ones, celebrate survivors, and stand alongside the sarcoma community.

 Sarcoma is often misunderstood and underdiagnosed, so spreading knowledge can help save lives.

 Survival rates increase with early detection and timely treatment.

 Patients need support, love, and advocacy for better research and funding.

2026 Sarcoma Statistics from the Sarcoma Foundation of America:

100+ subtypes

~21% of childhood cancers

Estimated 7,610 deaths from this disease will occur in the United States this year.

At any one time, more than 236,000 patients and their families are struggling with sarcoma.

1% of all adult cancers

Estimated 18,020 people will be diagnosed with sarcoma this year.

20% of all sarcomas fall into the category of "ultra-rare."