It’s interesting to look back at the person I was.
I constantly lived preparing for the worst case scenario. I tried to control every aspect of my life that I could, just to avoid facing the things I couldn’t control. I remained “positive” that what I had was pneumonia, but underneath that positivity lived constant fear. The worst case scenario had already taken over my mind long before the diagnosis arrived.
Looking back now, I realize I was my own worst enemy in the face of something much greater than me.
That false sense of positivity carried me through the two days after my biopsy while I waited for results.
Even when the doctor called, I answered the phone completely convinced he was going to confirm pneumonia and prescribe a different set of medications. Instead, the words that came out of his mouth were:
“I’m so sorry, but the biopsy showed metastatic cervical cancer in your lungs.”
I remember exactly what my brain did in that moment, as if it happened yesterday.
It immediately searched for the fastest solution to what I needed emotionally, which was to get off the phone with the pulmonologist and speak to my oncologist. I needed guidance. I needed someone to tell me what happened next.
The desperation hadn’t fully set in yet.
When he asked if there was anything else he could help me with, I simply told him to contact Dr. Embry-Schubert and that I would be emailing her as well.
This conversation happened while my 2 month old son was napping.
As he started waking up, I knew I had no emotional capacity left to care for him in that moment. Don’t get me wrong, if I had to, I would have. But my brain was desperately searching for survival mode solutions.
I burst into my mom’s room, told her it was stage 4 cervical cancer, asked her to stay with Victor, and walked out.
The next person I contacted was Rich.
He called me immediately, and I still remember the shock in his voice. How is this happening? What do we do? Where do we even begin?
Within 10 minutes of hanging up with the pulmonologist, Dr. Schubert called me.
I hung up with Rich knowing he was already on his way home and answered her call.
That was the first time I broke down.
“I don’t want to die.”
I repeated those words over and over through sobs.
She knew me well. She knew my anxiety was spiraling out of control and that fear was consuming me.
She knew I had already googled the statistics, and the very first thing she told me was:
“Do not look at those numbers.”
She explained that the statistics were outdated and reminded me that I could still be the 1%.
But all I could think was:How can I possibly be the 1%?
I was already the 1% who went from localized cervical cancer to metastatic disease.
As tears streamed down my face, we discussed the plan moving forward. I would need a PET scan to determine whether the cancer had spread anywhere else in my body, and then we would start chemotherapy immediately.
She explained that the chemotherapy would need to be extremely aggressive, but that it would also give me my best fighting chance.
That phone call gave me strength.
But it didn’t stop the emotional train wreck that was coming.
Death.
It can happen in a split second, or it can slowly knock on your door and force you to think about every reason you desperately want to stay alive.
The first person I thought about was Logan.
My sweet boy.
I didn’t want to miss his life. He is my heart and soul, and if I could leave him with anything, it would be the certainty that he was deeply loved every single day of my life.
Even now, writing this still brings tears to my eyes.
The second person I thought about was my husband.
We have been through everything together, and no matter what life has thrown at us, he has always been my soulmate. The thought of no longer being part of their lives shattered me completely.
Of course there was Victor, my family, and my friends too. But at my core, I desperately wanted to preserve my little family.
We arranged for Rich’s mom to pick Logan up from school, and Rich and I left the house.
Drinking alcohol that night probably wasn’t the wisest decision, but my mind wanted an escape from what it was facing.
I replayed every detail over and over in my head, and every thought pointed to the same conclusion:I was dying.
I had encountered the absolute worst case scenario, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Later that evening I saw a few close friends, but as the night grew darker, so did my thoughts.
The fear.The shock.The disbelief.The desperation.
It all became too much.
I mentally wrote off my life while simultaneously begging for a different outcome. Looking back now, I realize how dangerous that mindset was. If I hadn’t decided to change, those thoughts would have destroyed me long before the cancer ever could.
The fortunate part is that my diagnosis was not prepared for the person I was about to become.
Fearless.
Deeply grateful for life.
Someone capable of finding positivity in the middle of chaos.
The next morning, I woke up determined.
I knew what my mind was capable of, and I had already read countless stories of people reaching remission from stage 4 cancer. I needed to use my greatest strengths: my ability to research, learn, and problem solve.
And I needed to combine that with my newfound inspiration, Dr. Joe Dispenza.
Before all of this, I had always dismissed meditation. But what resonated with me about Dr. Joe’s work was that it wasn’t about aimless positivity or simply “thinking happy thoughts.” It was about reaching a state where the body could begin healing itself.
Just as chronic stress can contribute to illness, I believed peace, gratitude, and emotional healing could create an entirely different environment within the body.
His work wasn’t simply about eliminating disease. It was about understanding the incredible potential of the human mind.
That was something I could believe in.
Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not in denial.
I think people often see how grateful and positive I am and assume I’m not fully acknowledging how serious my diagnosis is.
Trust me, I understand how real this is.
But I also realized I had two choices.
I could continue living in fear, anger, and despair the same way I did when this first happened in 2020, or I could use this experience as an opportunity to become the best version of myself while creating an internal environment where my body could heal.
When I was pregnant with Logan, I practiced hypnobabies and experienced firsthand how powerful the mind could be in changing physical perception and pain. That experience made me fully open to diving deeply into meditation and nervous system healing during cancer treatment.
Through Dr. Joe’s meditations and teachings, I found a level of peace I had never experienced before.
The researcher in me also went to work building the strongest healing team possible.
My naturopathic oncologist became one of the most important people helping me reduce the damage chemotherapy could do to my body.
My acupuncturist felt like pure healing energy in human form.
My nutritionist focused on helping me create an internal environment where cancer would struggle to survive.
I also committed to daily cold plunges, infrared sauna sessions, movement, and exercise, all practices that supported both my body and my mental state.
And then there was Verthermia.
One of my friends told me about a client who had traveled to Europe for hyperthermia treatment and far surpassed the “expiration date” doctors had given him. He eventually eradicated all of his tumors.
That story stayed with me.
Other countries tend to be far more open to alternative cancer therapies, and after extensive research I discovered Verthermia in Dallas, Texas.
Verthermia is an advanced hyperthermia treatment that heats the blood to approximately 107 degrees through a machine similar to dialysis. At those temperatures, cancer cells struggle to survive, and the research surrounding hyperthermia is extensive and fascinating.
The European treatments are extremely expensive and often require several weeks abroad, while the Verthermia treatment in the United States was also costly, but completed in a single procedure with only a few days of recovery.
Most importantly, it would not interfere with my conventional treatment plan.
My oncologist spoke directly with the Verthermia physician, and together they developed a strategy for when to incorporate the treatment. To me, it represented one more tool in the fight against this disease.
Within only a few weeks of my diagnosis, I had already transformed my entire mindset and put countless healing strategies into motion.
Ironically, one of the hardest parts was asking for help.
I’ve always been someone who handles everything independently, so creating a GoFundMe was emotionally difficult for me.
We have excellent insurance, and conventional medicine was covered. But many of the additional therapies and treatments I believed could truly improve my chances were entirely out of pocket, especially Verthermia.
Personally, I believe our healthcare system should place far more emphasis on prevention and integrative healing rather than waiting until people become critically ill. But that’s a conversation for another day.
What I will say is this:
I will forever be grateful for the overwhelming love and support people showed us.
Every donation, message, prayer, visit, and moment of encouragement helped carry me through one of the darkest seasons of my life.
This battle ultimately belongs to me, but I hope my story becomes a reminder to others that despair does not have to define your journey.
We are all capable of change.We are all worthy of healing.And we are all far more powerful than we realize ❤️
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