Lung cancer support

For nearly a decade, Sandi Walraven has brought people affected by lung cancer together to share experiences, find support, and build lasting friendships. What began as the first cancer support group at Northeast Georgia Health System has grown into a close-knit community that Sandi lovingly describes as her “labor of love.”

In recognition of her extraordinary dedication, GO2 for Lung Cancer is proud to honor Sandi with the 2026 Lung Cancer Support Group Facilitator Award.

Established in 2009, the Lung Cancer Support Group Facilitator Award recognizes individuals who go above and beyond to create welcoming, supportive spaces for people affected by lung cancer. The award celebrates the often-unseen work of building and sustaining a support group, and the facilitators who help people find connection, encouragement, and a sense of belonging.

Sandi embodies everything this award was created to recognize.

A career dedicated to caring for others

For more than 30 years, Sandi has provided compassionate, patient-centered oncology care. Her career has taken her through many aspects of cancer care, including radiation, infusion, nurse navigation, and hospice.

Along the way, she helped establish her health system's navigation program, which has guided hundreds of newly diagnosed patients through the challenges of understanding their diagnosis, making treatment decisions, and finding the support and resources they need.

In 2016, Sandi saw a chance to offer something more. With the help of a grant and facilitator training from GO2 for Lung Cancer, she established the Lung Cancer Support Group at Northeast Georgia Health System, the first cancer support group of any kind within the health system.

What began as a place for people living with lung cancer to connect has become something much more.

More than a support group

A few years after establishing the group, Sandi's responsibilities at work changed. The group's regular meeting time now fell on her day off, and her colleagues assumed she would pass the responsibility to someone else. But Sandi had other ideas.  

She told them they'd have to arm wrestle her for it.

She kept the group, and nearly a decade after starting it, she continues to lead its meeting on her own time.  

Under Sandi's care, the group has become a family. Members gather each month to share a meal, talk about their experiences, and enjoy one another's company. Sandi even provides gas cards to help ensure that transportation costs don't prevent people from attending.

She also finds ways to keep meetings engaging, inviting professional speakers, incorporating chair yoga, and organizing activities like board games. But the most important part of the group isn't any particular activity. It's the relationships that have grown over time.

Remarkably, 4 members have been part of the group since its very beginning. Together, members have navigated illness, loss, and difficult moments. They've also celebrated birthdays, clear scans, new babies, and countless other milestones.

Through it all, Sandi has helped create a space where people can show up exactly as they are, knowing they'll find others who understand what they're going through.

The lasting impact of connection

Living with lung cancer can be isolating. Even with the support of family, friends, and a dedicated healthcare team, it can be difficult to find people who truly understand the experience.

Support groups help bridge that gap. They offer opportunities to share concerns, exchange information, celebrate good news, and build relationships with others navigating similar challenges.

But a successful support group doesn't happen on its own. It takes someone willing to bring people together, make them feel welcome, and keep showing up, month after month and year after year.

For Sandi, that commitment has never wavered. Her group is a testament to the difference one dedicated person can make by providing information and resources, while also helping people build a community they can count on.

GO2 for Lung Cancer is grateful to the many facilitators across our Lung Cancer Support Group Network who devote their time, energy, and compassion to supporting others. Their work makes a meaningful difference in the lives of people affected by lung cancer every day.

This year, we are especially proud to recognize Sandi Walraven for 10 years of extraordinary dedication, kindness, and commitment to the lung cancer community.

Congratulations, Sandi, and thank you for turning your labor of love into a source of connection and support for so many.

Explore GO2's Lung Cancer Support Group Network to find opportunities for connection and support.

‍

Mike lives in Eldersburg, MD, with his wife, Belinda, and their teenage daughter. A longtime entrepreneur, he has spent more than 20 years in the vehicle graphics industry and currently operates businesses specializing in commercial fleet graphics and graphics removal. Mike is a U.S. Army veteran with a degree in anthropology and, in his spare time, enjoys traveling, playing guitar, scuba diving, spending time in nature, and, most importantly, spending time with his family and his Border Collie, Diamond.

Mike has plans. He wants to take his family to Utah and see the Rocky Mountains. He plans to watch his daughter graduate from high school. Someday, he hopes to meet his grandchildren.  

None of those plans might sound remarkable, but to Mike they are. Three years ago, at age 49, he was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer (SCLC). And because of that, for a while he stopped imagining much of a future at all.

Today, however, he describes the difference simply: "There's a horizon now."

A pain that wouldn’t go away  

In the summer of 2023, Mike was 49 years old. He was healthy and busy running his vehicle graphics business in Maryland when his shoulder started hurting. He had been wrapping a fleet of tractor trailers which often required intense physical work, so a sore shoulder didn’t seem particularly alarming.

His doctor initially prescribed steroids. When those didn’t help, they tried another medication. The pain persisted, so his doctor eventually ordered an X-ray.

The scan showed a cloudiness in Mike’s lung. He was referred to a pulmonologist, whose office initially told him the next available appointment was 7 months away. Mike, who had rarely needed medical care in his life, thought little of it.

An hour later, the office called back asking if he could come in that afternoon.

“That place that had an appointment 7 months out wants to see me today,” Mike remembers telling his wife. “That can’t be good.”

The pulmonologist told Mike they suspected lung cancer. A CT scan revealed a roughly 10-centimeter Pancoast tumor, a tumor that occurs at the top of the lung, which can cause shoulder pain. A PET scan and biopsy followed.  

A diagnosis of SCLC  

At first, Mike’s doctors believed he had non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC). The plan seemed relatively straightforward: surgery to remove part of his lung, followed by recovery.

Mike approached it with a plan, like he approached most things. He found a surgeon who performed minimally invasive robotic surgery and started running at the track every day so he would be in the best possible shape for the operation.

Then the biopsy came back. It revealed that Mike actually had small cell lung cancer (SCLC), rare in a Pancoast tumor.  

“And then everything changed,” he said.

SCLC accounts for a smaller proportion of lung cancer diagnoses than NSCLC and behaves differently. For Mike, the most immediate difference was that surgery was no longer an option. Instead, he would undergo 4 rounds of chemotherapy and 33 radiation treatments.

The conversation about his future changed too. One doctor told him he had only ever known one woman with SCLC who lived 10 years and advised Mike to write a will.

“I said, ‘Dude, I’m 49 years old,’” Mike recalled. “You’re not giving me any hope here.”

Mike knew almost nothing about lung cancer at the time. In fact, before his diagnosis, he hadn’t realized how many kinds of cancer or treatments for cancer there were. Suddenly, he was trying to learn about a disease he had barely heard of while confronting statistics and conversations that made him wonder whether he had much of a future at all.  

Mike became so convinced that his future might be short that he made an unusual plan for his first post-treatment PET scan. He had discovered something called a “tsunami pod,” a protective ball designed to withstand extreme forces. If his scan showed that the cancer was still there, Mike decided he was going to buy one, climb inside, and go over Niagara Falls.

“I hoped to survive the Falls,” he said. “But I also felt like, if I don’t, I don’t.”

He researched it. He posted about the plan on Facebook. He was serious. Fortunately, he never had to find out whether the tsunami pod would work.

“I didn’t have to do it,” he said.  

His post-treatment scan brought good news: Mike’s treatment was successful.  

Although the tumor itself remains visible on his scans, it is no longer active. Because it is entangled with nerves in his brachial plexus (the nerves near his shoulder and collarbone), the shoulder pain that first sent him to the doctor 3 years ago has also never completely disappeared.

Mike has found his own way of thinking about it.

“That pain reminds me that I beat cancer,” he said. “I’m glad to be alive to be able to feel it.”

“I felt so alone”

During treatment, Mike often felt like he was navigating cancer on his own. He had imagined that after a serious diagnosis like lung cancer, someone would take charge and tell him which doctor to see, make the appointments, and guide him from one step to the next. But this wasn’t Mike’s experience.  

Instead, after learning he had SCLC, he remembers being told to find an oncologist.

“I didn’t even know what an oncologist was,” he said.

His father was beside him throughout treatment, taking him to every chemotherapy appointment and sitting with him during infusions. But navigating the healthcare system itself still felt like “a DIY project” to Mike.  

Mike told his family that if he got through treatment, he wanted to do something to make the experience easier for the people who came after him. Eventually, he discovered that the organizations and communities he had needed were already out there.

GO2 for Lung Cancer’s survivor stories became an important source of hope. He also connected with a Phone Buddy who had lived many years beyond her own diagnosis.

“You guys were a major part of me not flipping my lid,” Mike said.

Seeing actual people living with lung cancer offered something statistics couldn't. Real hope.  

Over time, Mike found a community of survivors, advocates, and others affected by lung cancer, people he describes as “the nicest people I wish I’d never met.”

“I wish I had never had any connection with this at all,” he said. “But because of my diagnosis I’ve had the occasion to meet some of the best people I’ve ever met in my life.”

The fear of SCLC

Today, Mike helps provide that same reassurance to others. As someone who barely used social media before cancer and even had a flip phone at the time he was diagnosed, Mike is now a moderator of a large lung cancer Facebook group and a member of two SCLC groups (the Small Cell SMASHERS and the Small Cell Lung Cancer Support Community) where he helps others who have received a SCLC diagnosis find accurate information and support.  

He has noticed a particular fear among people newly diagnosed with SCLC.

“They tend to be convinced that it’s absolutely going to come back,” he said.

People don’t necessarily ask if their cancer will recur, Mike says, they focus on when. They ask others how long it took before their cancer recurred. Someone who has been cancer-free for 8 months might ask when they should expect the cancer to return or whether they’ll make it to the following year.

Mike understands that fear because he lived it. But now, 3 years after his own diagnosis, he knows that sharing his own experience can help show them that recurrence isn’t inevitable.  

Fighting misinformation and stigma

Mike has also become passionate about helping people find reliable information. Before his diagnosis, he readily believed claims about alternative cancer treatments. Immediately after learning he had lung cancer, he began looking into some of them himself.

Once he started researching, he realized how unreliable online information can be.

Today, Mike often finds himself warning newly diagnosed people about misinformation, unproven treatments, and scammers who prey on people when they are frightened and vulnerable. He is committed to helping people make informed decisions about their care despite the flood of health misinformation online.  

He is equally outspoken about stigma, another problem people with lung cancer know well.

When Mike was receiving radiation, another patient asked what kind of cancer he had.

“Lung cancer,” Mike answered.

“Oh, well, did you smoke?”

Mike responded by asking the man, who had colon cancer, whether he had eaten a bad diet. The man was offended.

“You did exactly the same thing to me,” Mike told him. “I was only kidding with you, but you didn’t even consider whether your question might be rude to ask me.”

Mike knows there are risk factors for lung cancer, just as there are for many diseases. But he also knows that none of them determine who deserves compassion.

“Anybody with lungs can get lung cancer,” he said, “and everyone deserves kindness and good care.”  

There’s a horizon

Perhaps the biggest change over the past 3 years has been allowing himself to imagine a future again. For a while, Mike and his family stopped planning things. There didn't seem to be a point.

But now, there is. He thinks about traveling. He enjoys cooking dinner with his daughter and spending time with his family. He thinks about watching her grow up.

And he looks at advances in SCLC research and treatment with hope. The treatment landscape has already changed since his own diagnosis, he notes, and there are options available today that weren't part of his treatment just 3 years ago.

That matters when he talks to someone newly diagnosed who has searched online and found frightening survival statistics.

“Everything you see is at least 5 years old,” Mike tells them. “These statistics don’t include people being treated right now.”

He knows firsthand how frightening SCLC can be. He doesn't minimize it, and he doesn't believe people need to maintain a relentlessly positive attitude to survive it. Mike himself was angry throughout much of treatment. But 3 years later, he feels differently.

“There's a horizon,” he said.

And after spending a period of his life believing there wasn't one, Mike is enjoying the opportunity to see what's beyond it.  

GO2 understands the unique needs of people living with SCLC. Explore our list of SCLC resources and support groups.

‍

Changes in memory, concentration, or thinking can happen for many reasons when you’re living with small cell lung cancer (SCLC). Understanding why these changes happen can help you know what to expect and where to turn for support.  

What causes changes in memory and thinking skills?

Some people notice changes in memory and thinking during lung cancer treatment. The specific symptoms you may experience can vary based on the types of treatments you’ve received, the doses, and other health conditions you may have.  

Changes in memory and thinking skills can happen for a few different reasons.  

Cancer treatment itself

Chemotherapy and immunotherapy can affect memory and thinking, as can radiation therapy, but only when the brain is being treated. These changes can be milder or more noticeable, and they may come and go. Some people call this "chemo brain"; your healthcare team may call it cancer-related cognitive impairment (CRCI). Common symptoms include:

• Slower processing speed
• Difficulty planning and making decisions
• Trouble with memory and attention
• Difficulty recalling names or words

Physical, emotional, and mental stressors

Physical stressors, such as pain and fatigue, as well as the mental and emotional stress that often comes with a lung cancer diagnosis, can also affect how well your brain functions. Examples of these stressors can include:

• Low oxygen levels from lung problems
• High calcium levels in the blood
• Infections
• Medication side effects
• Anxiety or depression
• Poor sleep

Cancer that has spread to the brain (brain metastases)

This happens when cancer cells from the lung travel through the bloodstream and begin growing in the brain. It's important to know that this is not "brain cancer." It's lung cancer that has spread to the brain, and it's treated differently than cancer that starts in the brain. Because SCLC is more likely to spread to the brain, regularly scheduled brain imaging is an important part of your care. Your healthcare team can explain what type of imaging is recommended for you.  

The symptoms of brain metastases depend on which part of the brain is affected, but can include:

• Speech problems (such as trouble finding words)
• Muscle weakness, pain, numbness, or paralysis
• Eye problems or trouble reading
• Seizures
• Nausea and/or vomiting
• Fatigue
• Memory problems
• Headaches

If you notice changes in your thinking, memory, or any new symptoms, the first step is to talk to your healthcare team. If the cause is brain metastases or another treatable condition, addressing it can often improve how you feel and function.

How to manage changes in memory and thinking skills

There are practical steps you can take to support your brain, whether the changes you're noticing are related to treatment, stress, or brain metastases.

Everyday habits that support brain function:

• Get enough rest: Aim for 7–8 hours of sleep. ‍
• Stay active as you’re able: Light exercise can boost brain health. ‍
• Eat a healthy diet: Good nutrition helps your brain work better. ‍
• Practice relaxation: Deep breathing, music, or meditation can help lower stress. ‍
• Challenge your brain: Games or learning something new keeps your mind active.

Strategies for managing day-to-day changes:

• Keep a notebook or phone app for to-do lists, appointments, and questions for your care team.
• Use a calendar to stay organized.
• Set reminders on your phone, with alarms, or sticky notes.
• Stick to a routine to simplify daily life.
• Break up big tasks into smaller steps.
• Do one thing at a time and reduce distractions (turn off the TV, find a quiet space).

Support and resources:  

• Occupational therapy: Strategies to build independence and improve quality of life ‍
• Cognitive rehabilitation/therapy: Techniques to improve memory and thinking skills ‍
• Counseling: Support for stress, sadness, or anxiety that can worsen thinking difficulties ‍
• Support groups: Connection with others facing similar challenges, and practical tips from people who understand

You are not alone

Cognitive changes and questions about brain health are common with small cell lung cancer, and you don't have to navigate them by yourself.  

Contact our free GO2 HelpLine at 1-800-298-2436 or email support@go2.org for support, resources, or to learn more about our SCLC Program.  

This article is intended for general education and is not a substitute for medical advice. Always talk with your healthcare team about symptoms, scans, and treatment decisions specific to your situation.

‍

Download this blog to print or share with someone impacted by non-small cell lung cancer.

What is stereotactic body radiation therapy?

Stereotactic body radiation therapy (SBRT) is a special type of cancer treatment that uses many small beams of high-dose radiation. The beams enter the tumor at different angles and overlap to deliver a high dose of precise radiation. SBRT is also sometimes called stereotactic ablative body radiotherapy (SABR).  

How is SBRT different from traditional radiation?

Traditional radiation therapy exposes a slightly broader area of healthy tissue around the tumor to radiation as compared to SBRT. It’s often delivered in small daily doses, over several weeks, allowing healthy tissue near the tumor to recover between treatments.  

SBRT can be completed in a shorter time period than traditional radiation therapy. Because it delivers a higher dose of radiation that is precisely aimed at the tumor, nearby healthy tissue is less affected, resulting in fewer side effects.

Both traditional and SBRT radiation therapy may be used in non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC).

When is SBRT used and why?

SBRT is a commonly used lung cancer treatment for both early and late-stage NSCLC.  

In early-stage NSCLC, SBRT may be used along with surgery, or it may be used alone in cases where surgery is not recommended due to other medical conditions or risk factors.  

In later stages of NSCLC, SBRT may be used along with other treatment types to treat a small number of metastases (cancer that has spread from the lung to other parts of the body) or to treat a tumor that has come back after prior treatment.

What are the possible side effects of SBRT?

SBRT is generally well tolerated, and most people receiving SBRT do not experience severe side effects. However, like all cancer treatments, SBRT can cause some side effects, depending on the size and location of the tumor, as well as your overall health.

Possible short-term side effects (during treatment or within the first few weeks after) include:

• Skin changes, such as dry skin or reddening
• Fatigue
• Mild cough or shortness of breath
• Mild chest discomfort
• Nausea

Possible long-term side effects (months to years after treatment) include:

• Radiation pneumonitis (Inflammation of the lung tissue near the treated site)
• Lung fibrosis (scarring) of the treated area
• Chest wall pain

Most short- and long-term side effects resolve on their own without specific treatment, while others may be managed with support from your healthcare team.  

Ask your healthcare team how to prevent or manage these effects and when to seek emergency care.

Questions about SBRT for your healthcare team

• Is SBRT the best option for my specific diagnosis?
• How many treatment sessions will I need?
• Are there activities I should avoid during or after treatment?
• What side effects should I be aware of, and how should I manage them?
• Will I need other treatments, such as surgery or chemotherapy?
• How often will I need follow-up scans after treatment?

If you want to learn more about SBRT or have questions about lung cancer, please contact our free HelpLine at 1-800-298-2436 or email support@go2.org

‍

Felipe had spent his entire life focused on how the body works and how to keep it working well. With a background in exercise physiology and injury prevention, his career was built around helping people recover, rebuild, and, whenever possible, avoid injury altogether. So, when something didn’t feel right in his own body, it stood out immediately.

In 2019, Felipe was running a half marathon with 2 clients when he noticed a cough that felt different from anything he had experienced before.

“I couldn’t catch my breath, which was very unlike me,” he said. “People were actually stopping and asking if I was okay.”

He finished the race, but the symptoms stayed. He was diagnosed with chronic bronchitis and asthma and prescribed inhalers and steroids, but things didn’t improve.

By 2021, after months of worsening symptoms and delays in care during the COVID-19 pandemic, Felipe went to urgent care. His oxygen levels were dropping to dangerous levels, and he was sent to the emergency room where a CT scan revealed nodules in his lungs.

Soon after, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. “It was so completely unexpected,” he said. “I was healthy in every way, and I’d never smoked, so getting lung cancer wasn’t something I even thought was possible.”

“I lost my identity”

At the same time, other parts of Felipe’s life were shifting just as dramatically. A flood destroyed his 10,000-square-foot gym overnight, and he was about to turn 65, a big milestone that included a long-time dream of relocating to Florida.

In April 2021, Felipe underwent a lobectomy. The procedure was successful. Physically, he recovered quickly. But what followed was something he hadn’t anticipated.  

In the months following surgery, Felipe expected to return to the life he once knew. Instead, he felt himself drifting further and further away from it. For someone whose life had always been grounded in discipline and driven by purpose, the shift was deeply unsettling.

“I lost my identity,” he said. “I lost my purpose.”

At first, it didn’t have a name; it just showed up in patterns he couldn’t ignore. Overeating, drinking more than he should, not training, constantly consuming news and social media, yet he was still showing up for work, still meeting responsibilities. From the outside, everything looked intact. But inside, something felt off and disconnected.  

“I was just not myself at all,” he shared. “I was in a really dark place.”

Then he came across a description of those behaviors being called “slow suicide.” That stopped him in his tracks. Not because suicide had ever crossed his mind, it hadn’t, but because he recognized the pattern. It was a slow drift, quiet neglect, and disconnection from himself.

That realization pushed him to try to understand what he was actually experiencing. Through research he realized it had a name: high-functioning depression.

A turning point

Felipe doesn’t identify a single moment that changed everything, but rather a more gradual realization that he needed to do something different.

His approach was to return to training, nutrition, and structure, the fundamentals that had served him well throughout his life. He sought out accountability and rebuilt his routines with intention.

Over time, the changes were significant.

“I got into the best shape of my life,” he said, “and I dragged myself out of a dark place while doing it.”

But more importantly, he began to see his experience differently and as an opportunity to return to the life of serving people that had once defined him.

Rethinking “survival”

As people around him began using the word “survivor,” Felipe found himself pushing back against it. To him, it didn’t go far enough.

“Just surviving cancer is a very low bar,” he said.

Felipe believes that for people with early-stage cancer, surviving is not the only endpoint. It can be a beginning. What matters more is how you rebuild, how you take care of yourself, and how you move forward.

A disconnect

As Felipe moved further from treatment, he noticed something that surprised him and inspired his next steps.

“There’s a disconnect between the end of medical care and the re-starting of real life,” he said. “Your appointments become less frequent and the structures that guide you through your diagnosis and treatments fade away.”

What to expect when your care ends isn’t always clearly defined, and for Felipe, that gap seemed like an opportunity to help others navigate what had proven tricky for him.

From experience to action

Felipe hadn’t planned to write a book about his experiences, but as he reflected on what he had gone through, he realized that much of what had helped him to navigate life after cancer wasn’t easy to find in one place.

“There are resources out there,” he said. “But they’re not organized. You have to go find a little bit here, a little bit there, and piece it together yourself.”

What he wanted to create was something different. Not a memoir, and not a set of rigid instructions, but a starting point. A way for people to begin making sense of what comes next.

That idea became his book, “Don’t Call Me a Survivor: Thriving Beyond Cancer.”His book brings together the core elements of training, nutrition, mindset, and accountability, all of which helped him rebuild. It introduces the idea that these things don’t work in isolation.

“Everything has to work in the same direction,” he said. “It’s the synergy of it all coming together that creates big change.”

At its core, the book is about awareness. Helping people recognize that the period after treatment can be just as challenging as the diagnosis itself, and that without structure or support, it’s easy to drift.

From there, the book points toward something more: a path forward. Building something different. After writing the book, Felipe began building something more structured, something that could help others not only understand what they were experiencing but begin to move forward too.

At his gym in South Florida and through his virtual client roster, his approach reflects what he learned through his own experience; that progress doesn’t come from one thing alone.

His “Phoenix Path” model moves from awareness to action, with a 90-day program that offers daily structure, weekly support, and a focus on rebuilding from the ground up.

It’s not about doing everything at once, he emphasizes. It’s about starting where you are.

That might mean starting with health before fitness and building a foundation through nutrition, breathing, and basic movement before pushing further. It might mean rebuilding confidence, rediscovering a sense of purpose, or creating structure where it’s been lost. And it always means meeting people where they are.

“Everything can be improved,” he said, “I help people focus on the fundamentals to feel better in a comprehensive way that’s unique to them, what they’ve been through, and where they want to go.”

Full circle

Earlier this year, Felipe heard from one of the runners from that half marathon where his symptoms first appeared. Now approaching 80, that same runner, Dan, was preparing to complete another half marathon, this time after his own cancer diagnosis.

On May 17, 2026 Felipe joined Dan for that race.

The moment felt full circle in a way he couldn’t have imagined years ago, when he was struggling to understand what was happening in his own body. To run alongside this man again after everything they’ve both been through seemed almost surreal.

For Felipe, this kind of real, human, and hard-earned connection is what it’s all about.

Looking ahead

Today, Felipe continues to train, build, and connect, drawing directly from his experience with lung cancer. He’s also focused on reaching more people, especially those navigating the uncertain space between treatment and whatever comes next.

He still undergoes regular scans, and there is still uncertainty. But his relationship with that uncertainty has changed. Instead of waiting for answers, he focuses on what he can control: how he trains, how he eats, and how he shows up each day.

For Felipe, surviving was never meant to be the end of the story. It was the beginning of a different experience, one rooted not just in getting through, but in moving forward with intention.

Because for him, the real question isn’t whether you survive. It’s what you do next.

A lung cancer diagnosis can bring a lot of questions, emotions, and uncertainty. GO2 for Lung Cancer's free HelpLine connects you with trained specialists who can provide support, answer questions, and help you find resources along the way. Whether you're newly diagnosed, in treatment, or navigating survivorship, you don't have to face it alone.

Call us at 1-800-298-2436 or email support@go2.org to learn more.

Leslie lives in St. Augustine, FL with her husband, Ken, and their elderly rescue cat. Her children are grown and live in Maryland and Washington, DC. When not traveling, Leslie can be found soaking up the sunshine at the nearby beach. 

When Leslie's cough wouldn't go away, she did what most people would do; she went to her doctor. Then she went back again. And again.

She tried antibiotics and inhalers from her allergist, but nothing helped. Meanwhile, the cough worsened, her breathing became more difficult, and the active lifestyle she loved started slipping away. At the time, Leslie was teaching fitness classes, yet suddenly she found herself struggling to catch her breath.

As the weeks passed, Leslie became increasingly concerned. Her lymph nodes had become noticeably swollen, and she was getting sicker by the day. Although her primary care physician finally ordered a chest CT scan, the appointment was weeks away.

Friends urged her to stop waiting, and finally she listened. She drove herself to a nearby emergency room (ER), expecting to learn she had pneumonia or some other explanation for her symptoms. Instead, a CT scan performed at the hospital revealed a mass in her lung.

“Here’s why you can’t breathe”

The doctor in the ER returned to her room carrying a piece of paper.

"He said, 'I have good news. Your blood work is normal, and your COVID test is negative,’” Leslie remembered. “Then he handed me the scan results and said, 'Here's why you can't breathe.'"

Reading the report herself, Leslie saw the words "lung mass."

"I started screaming, 'Am I going to die?'"

Alone in the hospital room, she called her husband in a panic. Then, something remarkable happened. Her next-door neighbor, an oncologist, happened to be on call that day.

"She walked into my room, and it was like an angel at my bedside," Leslie said.

Her neighbor sat with her, held her hand, and said, “we’ll figure this out together.” Those words became an anchor during one of the most frightening moments of her life.

Finding hope in biomarker testing

A biopsy soon confirmed that Leslie had lung cancer. Because the cancer had already spread to her lymph nodes, doctors knew it was advanced. Like many people diagnosed with stage 4 (IV) lung cancer, Leslie immediately feared the worst.

"All I could think was, 'I'm going to die. Am I going to see my daughters get married? Do I want to be buried or cremated? What’s going to happen to me?' My brain just spiraled."

Her neighbor, however, knew there was another important piece of information still to come: biomarker testing. The wait was agonizing. When a lab error delayed her results for nearly a month, she spent long days sitting outside in the sunshine, reading books, and trying to keep her mind occupied.

When the results finally came through, her neighbor actually printed them out and walked them over to Leslie’s house. She said, "This is good news!" 

Leslie's cancer had tested positive for an ALK biomarker, and she heard a phrase that many people with ALK-positive lung cancer have heard before.

"You've won the cancer lottery."

At first, the statement felt impossible to understand.

"It didn't feel like I was winning any lottery," Leslie said.

But as her doctors explained what the ALK biomarker meant, Leslie began to understand. Advances in targeted therapies were allowing many people with ALK-positive lung cancer to live much longer and better than ever before. For the first time since her diagnosis, she felt a glimmer of hope.

The worst club you never wanted to join

Not long after her diagnosis, Leslie discovered the ALK Positive support community, a patient-founded and patient-driven nonprofit organization committed to transforming the future for everyone affected by ALK-positive cancer. No doctor had suggested it. She found it herself. The impact they had on her was profound.

"The ALK Positive group saved my life," she said.

At the time, Leslie was preparing to undergo radiation treatment for brain metastases. She already had the mask made and appointments scheduled. Then, members of the ALK Positive community encouraged her to pause and ask more questions.

"They said, 'Wait. Let the treatment work first.'"

After discussing options with her medical team, Leslie decided to hold off. It turned out to be a good decision. The targeted therapy worked. Her brain metastases responded without radiation.

For Leslie, it was an early lesson in the power of connecting with others who had walked the same path. She found people who had been living with ALK-positive lung cancer for as long as 10 years or more. She found friendships, practical advice, and reassurance that life could eventually feel normal again.

"You won't always be thinking about cancer," people told her. "It gets better."

They were right. Today, Leslie regularly attends ALK Positive events and has formed close friendships within the community.

"Lung cancer is the worst club you never wanted to join," she said, “but we have the best members.”

Learning to accept help

If there was another unexpected gift in the midst of Leslie's diagnosis, it was discovering just how deeply she was loved.

After Leslie’s diagnosis, her people started to show up for her in important and practical ways. Friends delivered meals. Cards arrived in the mail. Flowers showed up at her door. People researched treatment options, shared resources, and offered support in every way they could.

"The kindness was overwhelming," she said.

At first, Leslie found that accepting help felt uncomfortable. Over time, however, she realized that allowing people to help was a gift for them, too.

Looking back, Leslie describes the experience in a way she has never forgotten.

"It's almost like I died and I was at my own funeral," she said. "It was such a gift. I got to see how much people love me while I'm alive."

During the hardest period of her life, she experienced something beautiful.

"I felt like the luckiest person because who gets to experience that? Most people don't get to know how loved they are and how much they’ve meant to people."

Leslie’s friends across the world also helped her raise over $8,000 last year to donate to ALK Positive, which has contributed to the over $10.8 million in patient research funding since 2017. She is beyond grateful for their support of research.

Looking toward the future

Today, Leslie and her husband have retired and moved to Florida, a decision influenced in part by her diagnosis. Rather than waiting for someday, they're embracing the life they had always hoped to build. There are home projects to finish. Trips to plan. New adventures to take. She’s planning for the future in ways she never expected when she was first diagnosed.  

Leslie is also participating in a clinical trial that is exploring new ways to prevent resistance to targeted therapies. The experience has deepened her appreciation for the researchers and physicians working to improve outcomes for people living with lung cancer.

"The research gives me so much hope," she said.

Less than 2 years ago, Leslie was wondering if she would live long enough to see her daughters' futures unfold. Today, she's busy planning her own.

‍

When Misty Shields was 13 years old, her father was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer (SCLC). He was 48. Within 2 years, he was gone.

That loss changed everything for her. While other teenagers were figuring out who they wanted to be, Misty was looking online to find out how to become an oncologist. She had found her purpose, even if it came wrapped in grief.

Today, Misty Shields, MD, PhD, is one of the leading researchers and clinicians working to make SCLC a more treatable disease. She sat down with GO2’s Chief Patient Officer, Danielle Hicks, at a recent Lung Cancer Living Room® to share what’s changing in the world of SCLC and why she believes real hope is finally within reach.

Watch the full Lung Cancer Living Room conversation with Dr. Misty Shields on SCLC below.

A disease that went decades without progress

For most of the last 50 years, the story of SCLC treatment hasn’t changed much. Chemotherapy was the main tool, and it often worked for a little while, but not for long or well enough. Unlike non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC), which saw a wave of new targeted therapies and immunotherapies reshape outcomes over the past decade, SCLC lagged behind.

That personal history is part of why Dr. Shields pushed into this field. “SCLC has been neglected for a long time,” she said. “That’s not acceptable.”

The treatments that are changing the picture

The first real turning point came in 2018 and 2019, when the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approved the first immunotherapy drugs for SCLC. Drugs like Tecentriq (atezolizumab) and Imfinzi (durvalumab) work by releasing the brakes on the immune system, helping it recognize and attack cancer cells. They are used alongside or after chemotherapy, depending on the stage of disease, and they are helping some people with SCLC live longer.

Then, in 2025, a new treatment for SCLC was approved by the FDA. Dr. Shields explained that Imdelltra (tarlatamab) is a drug that works in a completely different way. Think of it as a connector. It acts like glue between the immune system’s T-cells and the cancer cells, pulling them together so the immune system can do its job. This approach, called a T-cell engager, is now the standard second-line treatment for extensive-stage (stage 4 (IV)) SCLC. It represents the first major shift in what doctors reach for when cancer stops responding to first-line therapy.

SCLC isn’t one disease anymore

For decades, doctors treated all SCLC the same way. That’s also starting to change. Researchers have discovered that SCLC has distinct subtypes, or different versions of the disease that may behave differently and respond differently to treatment.

This is the same shift that happened in NSCLC years ago, and it opened the door to targeted therapies that dramatically improved outcomes for many people. The hope is that identifying SCLC subtypes will do the same. The work is still in early stages, but the direction is clear: the future of SCLC treatment will likely be more personalized, not one-size-fits-all.

Finding SCLC earlier and understanding it better

SCLC is often caught late, partly because it can grow and spread quickly. Researchers are now looking at new tools that could change that. Liquid biopsies, or blood tests that detect cancer cells or fragments of cells in the bloodstream, may help doctors diagnose SCLC earlier or track how the cancer changes over time. Multi-cancer early detection tests are also being studied to flag cancers such as SCLC before symptoms appear.

For a fast-moving disease like SCLC, finding cancer earlier could dramatically change outcomes.  

Clinical trials: progress requires participation

Every treatment Dr. Shields discussed exists because people with lung cancer agreed to be part of a clinical trial. It’s worth saying that plainly, because trials are still widely misunderstood.

A clinical trial is not a last resort. It often means people gain access to the newest treatments before they are widely available. For people with SCLC, that access can matter enormously, especially because the disease tends to progress quickly.

People with SCLC often face barriers to joining trials, such as strict eligibility requirements, how fast the disease progresses, and the need to act quickly. Researchers know this is a problem. Many are now designing studies with more flexible rules and faster enrollment to make sure more people can participate. More participants mean faster answers, and faster answers mean better treatments for everyone who comes after.

“The nihilism is no longer welcome.”

Dr. Shields closed the conversation with a message she clearly feels deeply: “Never give up hope. The breakthrough might be just right around the corner. This is the new era for small cell lung cancer, and the nihilism is no longer welcome.”

For the 15-year-old who lost her father to this disease, that shift is personal. For the people living with SCLC today, it may be life changing.

If you would like to learn more about SCLC, have questions, or need support, our SCLC program can help. Contact our free HelpLine at 1-800-298-2436 or email support@go2.org.

Donna Thompson is a 3-time survivor of early-stage, non-small cell lung cancer, thriving more than a decade since her first diagnosis. After 2 surgeries to remove portions of her right lung, she carries forward an experience that deepens her commitment to lung cancer awareness, mental health advocacy, and building supportive communities. Donna shares her story to inspire hope, reduce stigma, and elevate survivor voices. Her advocacy spans education, outreach, and research collaboration within the lung cancer community. She speaks at wellness and community events, using her experience to empower others navigating illness and recovery. Professionally, Donna is the director of Human Resources and a SHRM Certified HR leader, known for leading with empathy and practical insight, and supporting people through complex workplace challenges. She finds strength - literally and emotionally - through faith, fitness training, and time in nature. For her, movement is medicine, and advocacy is a calling rooted in compassion and resilience.

Donna remembers the exact moment everything changed. It was September 2015, and she went to the emergency room for something else entirely. Her blood sugar was dangerously high, and she wasn’t feeling right. They ran tests, monitored her, and sent her home. The next day, the ER doctor called her and said the radiologist saw a mass in her lung and that she should have it checked out right away.  

At 45 years old, and having no smoking history, lung cancer wasn’t on her radar. It wasn’t on anyone else’s either.

“Everyone I talked to was like, ‘You’re too young. You’ve never smoked. This is probably not lung cancer.’”

But within 5 weeks, after scans, a biopsy, and what she still calls “the longest 5 weeks of my life,” Donna had her answer. It was lung cancer after all.  

"The best possible situation”

Looking back, Donna sees the moments that led to her lung cancer diagnosis a little differently.

“I always say that was God getting my attention, whispering to me in the quiet, still moments," she said.

The tumor was stage 2 (II) and operable. In many ways, it was the best-case scenario for a diagnosis no one expected. Her surgical team moved quickly.

“She told me, ‘This is the best possible situation. It’s in a good location. We can take it out.’”

By the end of November, just 2 months after that ER visit, Donna had surgery, and for a moment, it felt like the worst might already be behind her.

When the plan changes

Initially, Donna was told she wouldn’t need chemotherapy. The surgery had been successful, her margins were clean, and everything pointed in the right direction.

Then the pathology report came back. It showed that her tumor was more complex than expected. It was an unusual form of adenocarcinoma that didn’t behave in typical ways. Her case was sent to multiple cancer centers, and the recommendation shifted.

“I remember my surgeon calling me herself,” Donna said. “She said, ‘I told you one thing, and now it’s changing, and I need to explain that to you.’”

A second opinion confirmed it: chemotherapy was recommended. Donna agreed, but her body had other plans.

When treatment becomes the crisis

“Every time I got chemo, I ended up in the ER,” she said. “Something was always going wrong.”

After just two treatments, it was clear that this wasn’t sustainable. Her oncologist made the call.

“He said, ‘Your body can’t handle this. We’re done.’”

It was a moment that carried both relief and uncertainty. The treatment meant to protect her was, instead, putting her in danger. And so, once again, Donna adjusted.

“I didn’t survive to be basic.”

In the months that followed, Donna made a decision that would shape everything that came next.

“I didn’t survive to be basic,” she said.  

Instead, she poured herself into her health and started working with a trainer, changing her diet, and reclaiming a sense of control over her body.

“I got into the best shape of my life,” she said. “I came off medications. My A1C went back to normal. Everything changed.”

But the transformation wasn’t just physical. It was also about identity.

“The cancer gave me more than it took from me,” she said. “I learned who I am, how strong I can be, and what I really need in the world. I learned what and who are important to me. It put such a clear focus on what I want for my life.”  

Finding community and belonging

Still, parts of the experience felt isolating.

“I kept meeting people, and they were all stage 4 (IV),” she said. “I felt like, am I even supposed to be here?”

She was grateful for her outcome, but that gratitude came with a quiet tension.

“I didn’t want to take up space in their groups,” she said. “But I still needed support too.”

And there was something else. “I didn’t see anyone who looked like me.”

It wasn’t until years later, through social media connections, introductions, and small group conversations, that Donna found what she had been missing: a close-knit circle of Black women who truly understood her experience.

“We started meeting regularly, talking, and supporting each other,” she said. “There’s something about being with people who understand you completely without you having to explain that changes everything. They know what they did for me, and what we do for one another. Finally, I had community.”

A second diagnosis, and a different reality

For nearly 7 years, Donna focused on moving forward, rebuilding, and holding onto the belief that she had come through something and grown because of it.

Then, in 2022, everything shifted again. This time, it wasn’t a symptom that sent her back to treatment. It was a scan.

“My scans went from showing nothing to showing a tumor the same size as my first diagnosis,” she said. “I was just so shocked because I wasn’t expecting anything.”

As Donna began to piece together what had happened, the story became even more complicated. The tumor hadn’t appeared overnight. When her new care team reviewed her prior scans, they discovered that the growth had been visible as far back as 2018, but it had been missed.

The radiologist who originally read the scan had not flagged it, and even more concerning, it became clear that her oncologist had never reviewed the images directly.  

“That was the moment for me,” Donna said. “I realized no one had really been looking out for me the way they should have. I felt like a number, and I’m a relationship person. This matters to me.”

It was a turning point, not just medically, but emotionally. What initially felt like a sudden recurrence became something harder to process. It was a missed opportunity for earlier intervention.

Another treatment crisis

This time, Donna’s treatment plan included a targeted therapy designed specifically for EGFR-positive lung cancer that would allow her to take a lower dose of chemo, which they hoped she would tolerate better. It felt like progress and a better path.

But after a second surgery, adjuvant chemo, and introducing the new treatment, her body began to struggle again in a different and even more frightening way, this time in response to the targeted therapy.

After multiple attempts to adjust the dosage, the new medicine ultimately led to kidney failure, a serious complication that forced yet another shift in her care and another redefinition of what “moving forward” would look like.

It was also the moment that changed how Donna understood her own story.

“I used to say that cancer gave me more than it took from me,” she said. “And I believed that until my kidneys failed. Recovering from that took nearly all I had. I’m still trying to fully move on from how traumatic that year was.”

“I also have to remind myself how remarkable it was that I overcame this,” she said. “My nephrologist said my recovery was miraculous, and it does feel like a total miracle now.”

Living in the in-between

Today, Donna is once again in a place that many people with lung cancer know all too well: waiting.  

In July 2025, after recovering from kidney failure, her care team radiated 2 new spots. They chose radiation because it was the gentlest option for her. Recent scans have shown new nodules that Donna and her care team are just watching, for now.  

“They’re watching them and trying to decide what to do next,” she said. “And with my treatment history, not every option feels like a good one.”

It’s not a crisis. But it’s not clarity, either, and Donna finds herself struggling with living in this place of uncertainty.  

“I like to have a plan, and I like to know what we’re going to do. I’m finding it very hard for me to just wait and see.”

Still choosing more

Through her diagnosis, treatment, recurrence, and all the unexpected turns in between, Donna has held onto a simple mindset:

“I didn’t survive to be basic.”

It’s a phrase that stuck with her early on and has continued to shape how she moves through each new chapter. And for Donna, that means continuing to choose a full life, even in the unknown.

If you or someone you love has been diagnosed with lung cancer, know that you're not alone. Our HelpLine provides free, one-on-one support to people impacted by the disease. Call 1-800-298-2436 or email support@go2.org to connect. Our team is available Monday-Friday from 9 a.m.-5 p.m. ET/6 a.m.-2 p.m. PT.

A diagnosis of small cell lung cancer (SCLC) can bring a wide range of emotions. If you’re feeling uncertain, afraid, or overwhelmed, connecting with others who have faced similar experiences can offer both comfort and strength. Hearing from people who have been living well with SCLC for years is a powerful reminder that your story is still unfolding.

Connection can take many forms, including support groups, one-on-one peer support, or simply reading others’ stories. Each of these forms of connection can help ease feelings of isolation and provide a sense of shared understanding. You are not alone in this. Others are walking this path too, and when asked, here’s what they want you to know.

Take it one step at a time

Focus on today - this appointment, this decision, this moment. Thinking too far ahead can be overwhelming when there is so much unknown in the path ahead. Try to stay in the present and remember that progress isn’t about having everything figured out. It’s about continuing forward one step at a time. There will be good days and hard days. Both are part of the process.

Advocate for yourself

Your healthcare team matters, and you are the most important person on that team. Your thoughts, feelings, and perspectives guide your treatment and care decisions. Your healthcare team should listen and respect you. Whether it’s asking questions, exploring clinical trials, or discussing needs, your voice matters.

• Ask questions until you understand your diagnosis and treatment options.  

• Consider getting a second opinion from a thoracic oncologist (lung cancer specialist).  

• If something doesn’t feel right, trust your instincts and consider a change.  

Let people in (even when it’s hard)

Support can make a huge difference, but accepting help isn’t always easy. The offer of help from friends and family is one way they show their love for you. Accepting their help allows them to be with you through this experience and has the power to strengthen relationships and deepen bonds.

Take care of your body and keep moving

Self-care, even on tough days, can help you both physically and mentally. Even small actions matter.

• Spend time in nature

• Go for a walk when you can  

• Eat and hydrate as best you’re able  

• Follow your care team’s guidance  

• Do something you enjoy

Be honest about how you feel and focus on what you can control  

Positivity helps, but it doesn’t mean ignoring fear, frustration, or sadness. It’s okay to feel all of it. What matters is not getting stuck there. Give yourself permission to have hard moments, then try to find your way forward, step by step.

There’s a lot you can’t control with cancer. But there are things you can:

• How you spend your time  

• Who you surround yourself with  

• How you approach decisions  

Some people find strength in learning everything they can. Others focus on daily routines or small goals. There’s no single right way, only what works for you.

Find meaning where you can and hold onto hope

Many people describe a shift in perspective after diagnosis. Time feels different. Priorities become clearer. That means something different for everyone. For you, it could mean:

• Spending more time with loved ones  

• Helping others facing cancer  

• Finding purpose in advocacy or community  

• Setting goals or challenges for yourself and meeting them

Discover what brings you peace, laughter, and enjoyment, and then do more of that.

SCLC is serious. It’s okay to acknowledge that. But hope has a definite place here, not as denial, but as possibility. Treatments are improving. Research is ongoing. And your experience is your own. You don’t have to have everything figured out. You just keep moving forward, one step, one decision, one day at a time.

If you would like to learn more about SCLC, have questions, or need support, our SCLC program can help. Contact our free HelpLine at 1-800-298-2436 or email support@go2.org.

‍