Sick for Years: How an Accident Led to My Stage 4 Cancer Diagnosis

In my mid-twenties, I began what seemed like a dream life. I started a natural food blog that quickly gained traction, turning my passion for food and healing into a growing business. But as my business flourished, my health started to unravel in ways I could never have imagined. Doctors brushed off my concerns for years, leaving me feeling helpless as my symptoms worsened. It wasn’t until a freak accident that I finally got the answers I had been seeking—and they were far worse than I could have imagined. Here’s my story, what I learned along the way, and the three things I wish I had done sooner.

From Blog to Business—And the Pressure That Followed

What started as a small natural food blog soon became a nationwide business. I launched my own natural food company, and for seven years, I poured everything I had into making it a success. Moving back to Kansas City, setting up a manufacturing facility, and partnering with local programs felt like I was truly living my dream. My brand was being featured in magazines, we were winning coveted awards, all while helping people eat better while on the go. But behind the scenes, the pressure became overwhelming.

After a critical mistake during a Series A funding round, I found myself without real control of my own company. Despite working tirelessly, the demands began to erode my health, happiness, and identity. Eventually, I had to make the difficult decision to step away, as I had become suffocated by the very business I had built. The only way through, was out. Though I moved on to another leadership role in a new company, my body had already started to betray me.

When Health Declines—And Doctors Don’t Listen

As I shifted my focus to a new venture, my physical health took a sharp decline. Although I was now able to sleep better and take care of myself without the pressures of a toxic board or relentless work stress, my worsening health couldn’t be blamed on those factors. My symptoms—persistent stomach pain, fatigue, and other strange discomforts—were escalating. Yet every visit to the doctor left me feeling dismissed. The responses were always the same: “It’s IBS,” or “Maybe it’s early menopause.” Despite their reassurances, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong.

I was bounced from one doctor to another, each pointing fingers and suggesting my issue was beyond their expertise. In 2019, my bloodwork was so alarming that my OBGYN told me my body was shutting down, and my brain wasn’t responding. She immediately ordered a brain MRI, suspecting a pituitary tumor, and referred me back to my endocrinologist for further testing. When the MRI came back clear, the endocrinologist ran only three blood tests before adjusting my levothyroxine dosage. My TSH levels were within the normal range, and the lack of clear answers left me confused and frustrated. Yet, every time I questioned the minimal testing, the endocrinologist would become defensive, talking in circles around my concerns.

My GI doctor wasn’t any better, dismissing my severe stomach pains as IBS and recommending the FODMAP diet. I’ll never forget the moment I pulled over in a coffee shop parking lot to send a desperate MyChart message that read, "I know you think this is IBS, but I feel like I’m dying." At that point, I felt utterly hopeless and started questioning my own sanity, wondering if maybe it was all in my head.

Then, in 2021, I found a lump in my breast. My OBGYN saw me the next day and sent me to a radiologist, who confidently diagnosed it as a fibroadenoma, a benign tumor, and suggested waiting six months before retesting. Despite the assurance, my instincts told me otherwise. I inquired about a biopsy, but the suggestion was brushed aside, noting the burden of the high cost. When the lab results came back in MyChart, I discovered that the BI-RADS score was a 4, and the written recommendation was for a biopsy. Frustrated by the conflicting information, I scheduled the biopsy for the following week.

The Fall That Uncovered the Truth

The weekend following the biopsy, the pain in my back worsened, and no matter how I positioned myself—sitting, standing, or lying down—nothing brought relief. After another sleepless night, I got up early and decided to distract myself by tending to my plants. While climbing a ladder to work on my living wall, I lost my balance and fell. The sharp, unbearable pain in my side was overwhelming, and I decided to drive myself to the ER. Yet, even after arriving, I left the parking lot multiple times, still convincing myself it was all in my head. But the pain was relentless, forcing me back each time. After seven agonizing hours of waiting, I was finally seen and sent for a CT scan.

At 3:30 a.m., the doctor returned with the results. My hemoglobin levels were dangerously low, and the CT scan revealed three large masses in my lower abdomen, one spanning the entire length of my intestines. I was in complete disbelief. How could something so severe have been missed for so long? The doctor strongly urged me to be admitted to the hospital immediately.

The Diagnosis I Never Expected

In the following days, I underwent a barrage of tests, scans, and biopsies before finally receiving the diagnosis I had dreaded: Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma, Diffuse Large B-cell, stage IV. The cancer had spread to my adrenal glands and breasts. On top of that, I had developed autoimmune hemolytic anemia (AIHA), and the severe pain I had been enduring was due to one of the tumors collapsing my kidney. Within four days of my diagnosis, I started chemotherapy to halt the aggressive hemolysis caused by the AIHA.

By the time I was admitted to the hospital, the aggressive day-over-day hemolysis rate had me on a five-day countdown to heart failure. It wasn’t just that I had stage IV cancer—I had unknowingly entered the final stage of my life. It felt like sand slipping through an hourglass, each grain representing precious time as doctors scrambled to save my life.

I spent seven days in the hospital, and once my hemoglobin levels stabilized at 5 (still dangerously low), I was discharged. All I could think about were the years I had been dismissed by doctors and how it took a fall from a ladder to finally uncover the truth. The realization was both surreal and sobering.

3 Things I Wish I Had Done Sooner

Looking back, there are three key things I wish I had done much earlier in my journey. These changes could have made all the difference in getting an earlier diagnosis and sparing myself years of pain and uncertainty.

1. Switched Hospitals Sooner

After being dismissed multiple times by the same hospital and group of doctors, I wish I had made the decision to switch hospitals much sooner. Hospitals are businesses, and like any business, their culture is shaped by leadership. I spent 10 years in the St. Luke's system in Kansas City—a decision I deeply regret.

A friend in private practice once told me that if a doctor treats you poorly, they likely don’t want to treat you. Whether a patient is easy or complex, doctors are typically paid the same (his words, not mine). His advice? If you’re a difficult case, seek out research hospitals where both the talent and culture thrive on tackling complex conditions. My experience at the University of Kansas has been a stark contrast.

I’ve spoken with many other patients who shared similar horror stories. Switching doctors isn’t enough—you need to switch entire systems. Staying in the same hospital system only delayed getting the answers I needed. If you feel unheard or dismissed, it’s crucial to seek a second opinion, even if it means starting fresh with a new medical team.

2. Advocated More for Myself

Dismissal has a powerful effect, especially when you have hard evidence—like bad bloodwork—and still doubt yourself. I blamed myself for my symptoms and stopped pushing when I should have fought harder.

These days, I’m relentless. While I remain polite and respectful, I don’t back down when something feels wrong. Recently, a doctor refused to run a blood test, asking, “What good would it do?” Three months later, I asked my OBGYN to run the test, and the results were dangerously low. I reported that doctor and immediately switched. I make it a point to leave reviews, both good and bad, to elevate great doctors and hold poor ones accountable.

For years, I endured pain and discomfort, assuming it would eventually pass. I wish I had been more relentless in seeking answers, refusing to accept vague explanations. If something feels off, don’t settle—keep pushing until you get the care you deserve.

3. Not Trusted My Naturopaths So Blindly

This might seem surprising given my strong belief in natural medicine, but hear me out. Naturopaths often don’t have the resources to run blood tests, so they rely solely on symptoms. While I still value naturopathy, I now understand the risk of trusting anyone who doesn’t back their work with solid data. Looking back at some in the natural health space who diagnosed me based on symptoms, claiming it was something like “parasites,” and then sold me a bundle of herbs, they weren't much better than the GI doctor who dismissed my symptoms and told me I had IBS.

In 2024, I firmly believe it’s irresponsible to base any diagnosis purely on symptoms. With the rise of influencers and “health coaches,” it’s far too common to hear people promise that diet is the root cause of all your issues. While that could be true, it might not be. The holistic doctors I work with now rely on bloodwork and comprehensive data to support their recommendations.

To be clear, I’m not saying that a parasite or mold cleanse isn’t ever beneficial, but only after all other testing has been thoroughly explored. If all the tests come back normal, then it’s time to ask, "What else could it be?"

Moving Forward With Purpose

I still have days where I feel angry—angry at myself for not advocating harder and angry at the doctors whose negligence has forever altered my life. It’s tough to know that while I’m dealing with the consequences, those six negligent doctors continue to practice without a second thought. Anger is a natural emotion, but some days, it overwhelms me. And honestly, I’m never sure who I’m angrier at—the doctors or myself.

Though my diagnosis set me on a life-altering path, my goal now is to share my story in hopes of helping others avoid similar neglect. This journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s made me more determined to seek the truth and fight for my health. If I’ve learned anything, it’s this: You know your body better than anyone else. Trust your instincts, be your own advocate, and never stop fighting for your well-being.