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My Lung Cancer Journey: With Family, Friends And Medical Professionals

The strongest connections I've made are with others who have also been through their own cancer journeys.

Sue McCarthy received diagnoses of breast cancer in 2001 and lung cancer in 2018. Catch up on all of Sue's blogs here!

Those who have close family and friends, we maintain contact as much as possible, meeting for coffee and periodically going out to dinner. Our time together is highly valued. When we can't be together, we talk or message one another.

However, a cancer diagnosis changes things, many things. Doctor's appointments, body scans, and blood tests result in more time spent in hospitals and cancer centers, and less time at the gym, even for those of us who felt perfectly healthy when diagnosed. We soon experience fatigue, nausea, and some pain due to a variety of side effects from the treatment we receive. The changes in day-to-day lives for some, myself included, were massive. And to some degree, our lives would never be the same.

The discrepancy between our former friends' ongoing lives and the uncertainty we face sometimes makes it hard for a relationship to survive. Many individuals become connected because of what they have in common, but those commonalities no longer exist. A woman may send her co-worker, a new cancer patient, a nice "Thinking of You" card soon after the diagnosis and then begin wondering whether she did the right thing. The "bestie" can't wait to be back to work but struggles with the side effects of her chemotherapy. She also feels reluctant to text her close friend, wondering whether the folks back at the office want to hear her story, which by then has become a significant part of her life.

Hopefully, the patient/coworker will soon reach remission, the two friends will be able to share their unique experiences, and the friendship will be saved; but maybe not.

I've thought long and hard about the effect of relationships on the cancer journey, and vice versa. My three adult daughters were loving and supportive to me, yet, as a mom, I was too upset to share with them the challenging details of my experience. My husband is a kind man, but he went through his own coping issues. I struggled with losing some casual friendships yet felt an increased affinity in others.

Issues in my childhood family resulted in a lack of quality bonds between myself and my siblings; however, I was still disappointed when my sister and brother seemed to have no concept that I was suffering from more than a bad cold. How I wished we were close, especially at that challenging time in my life!

A close friend of mine, from our church support group, who seemed to have a wonderful supportive family of origin, made a comment about her experience during her husband's challenging pancreatic cancer journey. She said, "My family wanted to help me, my husband, and son, but they just "didn't get it." Apparently, it takes more than a supportive family in normal times to "be there" when a family member is diagnosed with cancer, especially a life-threatening one.

My lung cancer was life-threatening, and surprisingly a casual friend reached out to me. She wanted to take me to the nearby Starbucks and treat me to anything there that tasted good to me at the time. Likely, making the call had not been easy for her; she clearly wanted to let me know how much she cared, but I felt uncomfortable, as well as fatigued, and I said, "No."

As I healed, I thought back to the compassionate call that I had received almost a year earlier. That's when I heard that my younger cousin had received an esophageal cancer diagnosis. I remembered my cousin only as a little girl but decided to contact her. After all, I had always wanted a larger, closer family! I sent her several short texts, then we started sharing longer texts and emails. We now talk weekly and hope to meet soon.

I am blessed to have a Primary Care Physician who is truly a friend to me. I have the utmost respect for him medically and as a good man. He's there for me both as a person and as a patient.

But it may not be possible for oncologists to have true empathy for their patients. It's certainly not easy. I have had two oncologists, my first an amazing inspiration to his patients, but empathy came harder for him. My current oncologist has respect and sympathy but can't quite get into the patient experience. I realize now that's not surprising. He hasn't been one.

Then within the past month I read essays by two oncologists, each who had received a cancer diagnosis. One was young; in his 20s when diagnosed. Now a medical oncologist, he was hired into his first position soon after becoming a Colon Cancer survivor. The other doctor has fortunately survived multiple cancer diagnoses during his long career as a radiation oncologist. Now in his 70s, he, as well as his younger peer, expressed their thankfulness for being able to connect with their patients on all levels: medically, physically, and emotionally.

This morning, I got good news from another of my cousins, this one on the other side of my family. Almost three years ago, he and I got to know each other, after not having contact for a long time. His message to me this morning was, "My Ca 19 9 (pancreatic cancer blood test) as of last Thursday's blood draw, says I am back in remission."

God is good!

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Supporters Rally Around 2-year-old Petaluma Girl With Cancer

Mia Odgers' parents learned last month that she needed emergency surgery.

The sudden diagnosis of a young Petaluma girl with brain cancer has left her parents and loved ones reeling – and prompted an outpouring of support that so far has led to more than $100,000 raised online.

But much more is still needed, say organizers of a fundraiser for Madelyn and Eric Odgers, parents of 2½-year-old Mia.

It was less than three weeks ago, on April 19, that the couple learned of their daughter's diagnosis: Mia had medulloblastoma, a malignant brain tumor, and would need emergency surgery to have it removed.

The surgery was performed three days later, and the toddler now faces "nine to 12 months of intensive care including chemotherapy, ongoing medical testing, and frequent trips to specialists in SF and Oakland," according to a GoFundMe page set up last month for the Petaluma family.

During that time, the girl's parents "will be stepping away from work to be with Mia every step of the way" along this "long and challenging journey," the page states.

As of Tuesday, 845 donors had given $103,570, with a newly set goal of $300,000 organizers hope to raise for "medical expenses, travel costs, everyday life bills" and more.

The page, created on April 21, is at gofundme.Com/f/support-little-mias-brave-medical-fight.

The family said they were inspired by the support. "In the middle of this incredibly hard time, we are choosing to see the love that surrounds us," they wrote.

As for Mia, "She's walking, talking, smiling — and we're going to hold on to that joy, even through the hard days."

Described as a rare cancerous tumor "that starts in the lower back part of the brain," a medulloblastoma is "the most common cancerous brain tumor in children," according to Mayo Clinic. Its causes are unknown.

You can reach Staff Writer Jennifer Sawhney at 707-521-5346 or jennifer.Sawhney@pressdemocrat.Com. On X (Twitter) @sawhney_media.

Cancer Survivor Raises AYA Awareness After Rare Lymphoma Diagnosis

In this Q&A, Carly Stafford Dixon discusses her lymphoma journey, recovery with CAR T therapy, and mission to raise support for young adults with cancer.

Carly Stafford Dixon discusses her lymphoma journey, recovery with CAR T therapy, and mission to raise support for young adults with cancer: Alexandra - stock.Adobe.Com.

When Carly Stafford Dixon began feeling unusually out of breath just months after her wedding, she never expected it would lead to a lymphoma diagnosis. After a CT scan revealed a large mass in her chest, the 30-year-old counselor from Nashville was diagnosed with primary mediastinal B-cell lymphoma, a rare and aggressive form of non-Hodgkin lymphoma.

Carly quickly began chemotherapy and later received CAR T-cell therapy, which brought her into remission by summer 2023. Alongside treatment, she grappled with challenges like fertility concerns and job security — but found strength in her family, friends, and community. Her journey led her to the Lymphoma Research Foundation, where she found support and, eventually, a fundraising mission.

Just months after completing treatment, Carly ran a half marathon to raise money for the Lymphoma Research Foundation, becoming its top fundraiser.

Now cancer-free, she reflects on the realities of survivorship, the ongoing need for support after remission and the importance of raising awareness for adolescents and young adults (AYA) with cancer — a group she says is too often overlooked in public discourse and care resources.

CURE: Why is it important to raise awareness about AYA cancer, and what are some misconceptions about it?

Stafford Dixon: I think it's important to raise awareness about AYA cancer because often, when cancer is portrayed in the media — whether in movies, TV shows or books — you often see it as a tragic illness affecting a young child, or someone perhaps over the age of 50. The [AYA] age group, however, is really underrepresented in our understanding of who cancer can affect, and that's everyone, regardless of age.

It is important that everyone feels supported throughout their entire experience, from diagnosis to treatment and hopefully to survivorship. Ideally, if we can raise awareness about AYA cancer, then there could potentially be more resources available, although the Lymphoma Research Foundation already has an abundance of excellent resources. I think that with greater awareness, people could be directed to these valuable resources earlier and understand that they are not alone.

How did your support systems — whether it be your family, friends or resources — help you during treatment and survivorship?

I could not be more grateful for my support system. I have two parents and two amazing sisters, along with two amazing brothers-in-law and a husband. He and I had gotten married two months before my cancer diagnosis. I also [have a] great group of girlfriends who live all over the country and a good group of friends in Nashville, where I live.

Once we figured out the schedule for my chemo treatments — six sessions of R-EPOCH, a common course of chemotherapy for patients with this type of cancer — my parents created a Google Calendar and shared it with my sisters and all of my friends, because the hardest days of those three-week cycles are the ones when you're not in the hospital.

They made sure that for every in-between period, I had someone there, staying with me for a week or two and taking care of me. Nine of my best friends from undergrad and grad school came to visit. My sisters came. My parents came often. I feel very, very fortunate that my family and friends were able to do this; my family ensured I was never alone.

How has survivorship shaped your outlook on life?

I [initially misunderstood] survivorship, thinking that once you're declared in remission, you're completely fine, like all problems are solved and you can just jump right back into life. That was so far from the truth. It's felt a little bit like medical "Whack-a-Mole." I think you're just so much more aware of your body and in tune with it. And of course, you have a ton of checkups.

So, I feel incredibly lucky to have survived, and I'm so grateful to medical science and my team. But survivorship can be lonely. I think a big misconception for everyone is the same one I had: that once you're in remission, you're better. But often, the day you're declared in remission is when you feel the sickest, because all the treatment has accumulated in your body. I tend to think of my 20s and 30s now, especially the last five years, as two different eras: BC, like before cancer, and AC, after cancer. Obviously, you learn a lot. You gain a lot of knowledge about yourself, a lot of self-awareness, and you learn a lot about what's important to you in life.

What advice would you give for newly diagnosed AYA patients with cancer?

My piece of advice would be to acknowledge that, once you're in remission, that is such a huge thing to celebrate, but make sure your care partners know that you're still going to need support. You're still going to be tired, and if you are open to therapy and haven't started, that is a great time to start, because, during the survivor journey, you can oftentimes feel like everyone's forgotten about you.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don't forget to subscribe to CURE®'s newsletters here.

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