In July 2021, I felt a lump where my hip meets my pelvis. What followed was a confusing and frustrating journey through doctors who suspected everything from gynecological issues to a hernia. Within weeks, the lump grew, and hernia surgery in August 2021 revealed the real cause: A tumor in my pelvis had been hiding in plain sight. Hearing the word “malignant” felt unreal, and I reread the biopsy report again and again before it finally sank in. In that moment, my life quietly split into before and after. I was diagnosed with epithelioid sarcoma, proximal type — a rare cancer I had never even heard of.
A month after the hernia surgery, I underwent tumor resection surgery, followed by 30 rounds of radiation. Despite having exceptional doctors, I felt uninformed and alone as I sat with the reality of such a rare diagnosis. That changed when I reached out to Imerman Angels and was matched with a mentor who shared my exact sarcoma subtype. Talking to someone who truly understood what I was going through was life changing and reminded me that I did not have to face this alone.
During treatment, I needed a way to keep my eyes on the future, so I studied for my Project Management Professional (PMP) certification. The process gave me structure. Passing the exam became proof to myself that a vibrant, meaningful life was waiting for me after treatment. Treatment certainly had difficult moments, but humor helped too. One day, exhausted after radiation, a simple “How are you doing?” from a Target cashier sent me straight into clinical autopilot, as if I were checking in at the treatment center instead of standing in a checkout line. I began providing my daily update on bowel movements. She stared at me, and I suddenly remembered where I was. I was too tired to be embarrassed, and later I laughed at the moment. In the middle of everything, that laughter felt like a small act of survival.
After treatment, lingering nerve damage from my radiation treatment made my previous love of hiking difficult, but I rediscovered my love for cycling, especially on rail trails where I can ride comfortably and stay connected to nature. Being on my bike feels like therapy and celebration rolled into one. Each August, I mark my remission with a bike trip, turning survivorship into something joyful and active. The photo I’m sharing was taken on the Pine Creek Rail Trail through Pennsylvania’s “Grand Canyon” during my 2025 cancerversary trip, cycling over 100 miles in a weekend. As of winter 2026, my follow-up scans still show “No Evidence of Disease” (often abbreviated as NED), and I look forward to my August 2026 cancerversary bike trip. Every ride feels like an infusion of delight — a quiet celebration of how far I’ve come, and a reminder that even after cancer, life can still open up in beautiful and unexpected ways.
Word of Wisdom
One of the most valuable pieces of advice my mentor shared was not to spend time googling information about rare cancers. There simply isn’t enough reliable information out there, and that advice was surprisingly liberating. I learned to trust resources from organizations like SFA and my medical team. For anyone newly diagnosed with a rare sarcoma: Reach out, find your people, and let your dreams take root, even in uncertainty. Those dreams can become steady anchors during treatment and guide you toward a brighter future.
