Let’s start at the end—because this time, it’s actually good.

A Doctor Who Listened—and Explained

After months of searching and struggling, I’ve finally found the right doctor—an exceptional oncologist just 30 minutes from my home in Atlanta—who will lead the next phase of my treatment. For the first time since I was diagnosed, someone sat down with me and truly explained what was happening. She answered every question. She walked me through my specific pathology, helped me understand what kind of cancer I have, and what the realistic next steps are.

And finally, there’s a plan I can feel confident about.

We’ll start with 2–4 weeks of radiation after ILTACON. I’ll also be taking a daily pill for five years. Once that course is complete, my chance of recurrence drops to below 5%. That’s an incredible outcome, and I’m grateful to have a clear, manageable path forward.

But getting here? It was hell.

Why I Left My Original Care Team

I didn’t set out to transfer care just for convenience or preference. I was forced to look elsewhere because the original team managing my post-surgery treatment kept making mistakes—serious ones. They failed to order required tests. When tests were ordered, results weren’t reviewed or shared. At one point, I was given incorrect information about critical pathology findings. I found myself chasing my own care, emailing doctors to flag missing records, begging schedulers to confirm appointments, and trying to coordinate treatment alone.

I realized I couldn’t keep trusting a team that treated my cancer like paperwork to push through. So I began looking for a new oncologist—someone I could rely on. Someone who could treat me like a person, not a burden.

That search led me to Northwestern in Chicago. I know people who’ve received excellent care there, and the experience gave me hope. I made an appointment, scheduled for four weeks out. I planned to travel on my own dime. I just needed insurance approval for the treatment itself.

That kicked off the real fight.

The Insurance Runaround

Aetna, my insurance provider, spent weeks avoiding my request. They bounced me between departments, gave me conflicting instructions, and wouldn’t confirm what they needed from me to begin a review.

Eventually, I started engaging on their social media accounts—the ones where they post about how much they “support cancer patients.” I didn’t rant. I didn’t yell. I just told the truth. That got the attention of their patient relations team, who finally got people to take a look at my case.

And Aetna did expedite a review—only to deny it immediately.

Why? Because I hadn’t yet proven that no in-network doctors in the entire state of Georgia were available to treat me. Until I did that, they wouldn’t authorize any out-of-state care, no matter how reasonable or necessary it was.

An Impossible Ask

So that’s what I was left to do: call every in-network female oncologist in Georgia. For two full weeks, I spent nearly two hours a day on the phone. Most didn’t treat my specific type of cancer. Some weren’t accepting new patients. Others weren’t even in network, despite being listed as such.

It was a cruel and exhausting exercise—one that no one in the middle of cancer treatment should ever be expected to do. But the message was clear: if I didn’t do it, I wouldn’t get care. At least not with insurance.

A New Plan—and a New Purpose

That’s when I found her—the doctor here in Atlanta who took me seriously, had the expertise to treat my cancer, and was willing to take over my care. That single appointment gave me back something I hadn’t had in months: clarity.

But I also came out of this ordeal with something else. I’ve been building an app—one that helps patients understand and challenge health insurance denials. Because if I, someone with every possible advantage, was nearly shut out of care, I know what it must be like for people with fewer resources, less time, and no one to help them.

His name is Mario.
You’ll meet him soon.

Thank You

To everyone who reached out during this nightmare—thank you. I’ve received offers of free housing near treatment centers, introductions to hospital administrators, legal advice, and personal check-ins from people I never expected to hear from. That outpouring of support kept me upright. It made a difference. It still does.

What’s Next

Radiation begins after ILTACON. And then, hopefully, a future where I don’t have to think about this every day.

I’m almost there. And now, maybe I can help someone else get there, too.