“Take a Deep Breath:” Bob and Robyn W. Are Finding Their Way Through Lung Cancer Together  

Robyn and Bob Washburn live in Simi Valley, CA where they like to spend time with family, enjoy the outdoors walking and taking hikes when they can, and go on adventures with their Corgi, Teeter Moosie. Robyn has worked as a Senior Paralegal for over 35 years at The Burbank Firm, L.C. in Burbank, CA, and Bob is a retired advertising executive in the fitness industry who now enjoys day-trading. They are looking forward to good health, more traveling adventures, and numerous grandchildren! Their mantra is: “Make each day count, living life one breath at a time.”

When Bob and Robyn Washburn talk about the last 4 years, they describe it as a story that’s “a little bit like the Griswolds,” with 1 challenge after another, and moments so unbelievable they can only laugh at it all. But beneath the events that have seemed chaotic and even devastating at times is something much simpler and more powerful: a partnership built on deep love, determination, and the unshakeable belief that there is always a path forward, together. 

For the Washburns, “together” has guided their experience. From the accident that revealed a hidden lung nodule, to months of long-COVID leading to heart failure, to a stunning set of medical missteps that delayed Bob’s diagnosis for more than a year, their story is marked by frustration and heartbreak, but also resilience, community, and a renewed capacity to hope. 

A car accident, COVID-19, and a missed warning sign

Bob’s path to a diagnosis began with an accident that had nothing to do with cancer.  

In June 2020, he was hit head-on by another driver and rushed to the emergency room. Imaging revealed a small lung nodule, but doctors reassured them that it wasn’t alarming. “A nodule meant nothing to us,” Bob recalls. “It wasn’t red alert. We were told time and again that it was nothing to be concerned with.” 

With no clear reason to worry, they went home, focused on healing from the crash. 

But within a couple months of the accident, both Bob and Robyn became sick with COVID and remained sick for months as it developed into long COVID. Bob developed serious breathing issues followed by congestive heart failure. Their lives narrowed to managing day-to-day symptoms, seeking answers from specialists, and trying to understand what was happening to Bob’s heart and lungs. 

“We were down for months,” Robyn says. “At times, Bobby couldn’t speak. He really needed to be hospitalized, but they wouldn’t take him.” 

Amid the chaos of long-COVID and the overwhelmed healthcare system of late 2020, the original lung nodule that had been identified in the car accident faded into the background. Though the nodule appeared again on imaging ordered by Bob’s cardiologist, no one explained that it could be serious. There were no urgent referrals and no clear next steps.   

“It was COVID times,” Bob says. “Everyone was distracted.” 

“No one ever said, ‘We think this could be cancer,’” Robyn says. “They only ever said, ‘We’ll watch it.’” 

Nine months of waiting and a diagnosis delivered by accident

By early 2021, as Bob’s heart function gradually improved, the Washburns finally had the capacity to revisit the unexplained nodule. They pushed for appointments with a pulmonologist, hoping to get clear answers. Instead, they faced continued delays and uncertainty.   

Months passed with vague reassurances and no urgent action. Robyn remembers feeling powerless and furious.“It was a comedy of errors, but not funny at all. We waited another 9 months. We didn’t have the capacity at the time to say, ‘We’re not satisfied,’ because we were drowning.” 

Finally, in September 2021, 15 months after the nodule was first discovered, Bob underwent a biopsy. But even then, they didn’t receive the results from a doctor. Instead, a lab employee, calling solely to request consent for biomarker testing, casually told Robyn the words no one should hear from a stranger: “You need to sign a consent because your husband has cancer.”  

“I just about lost it at my desk,” she remembers. “Now I had to be the one to tell my husband he had lung cancer. It wasn’t a doctor explaining anything; it was a lab worker checking her list.” 

When they finally met with the pulmonologist in person, the physician was visibly shaken. “He was sweating,” Bob recalls. “He knew he’d made a huge oversight.”  

Finding answers and the right path forward

Once Bob actually received his diagnosis, the couple quickly had to consider treatment. Bob’s biomarker testing showed an ALK rearrangement, a type of mutation often highly responsive to targeted therapy.  

They were introduced to the possibility of clinical trials, surgery, and targeted therapy all at once, while still trying to catch their breath from the shock of the diagnosis. 

“We came in not knowing anything,” Bob says. “And suddenly we had to learn everything.” 

Initially, doctors explored whether the tumor could be surgically removed. But new imaging revealed the cancer had spread to the other lung, and then, in what felt like one more blow, to the spine, making him stage 4 (IV). Each new scan shifted the treatment plan, narrowing options and adding urgency. 

There were many moments that felt surreal. For a time, Bob was being considered for a clinical trial, and the couple spent weeks working with the trial team to qualify and complete required testing. During a call about that trial, a doctor casually chatted about the artwork behind them on Zoom before abruptly telling them that Bob was no longer eligible. “We spent so much time with him, and then we never heard from him again,” Bob says. 

Breathing again

Bob began taking alectinib in November 2021, about 2 months after his biopsy. By then, he was struggling just to walk up a flight of stairs. 

“I could feel it; I was declining,” he says. “It was scary. I knew something was really wrong. I was dying, essentially.” 

Within weeks of starting targeted therapy, he felt a shift. His breathing eased. His energy returned. The first post-treatment scan confirmed what he already sensed: the medication was working. 

“That first scan showed progress,” Bob says. “And more importantly, I could feel there was progress in my body.” 

More scans brought more good news. The spot on his spine disappeared and the cancer in his lungs shrank. Over time, he stabilized fully.  

“I’m basically NED right now,” he says. “Nothing on my spine. Just a little residual, and that’s okay.” 

Four years later, Bob remains on alectinib with excellent results. They continue scans every 3 months, and with each clean result, their world opens a little wider. 

Finding the right team and a community that feels like family

After the difficult start to their diagnostic experience, the Washburns made a change in their care. They transferred to City of Hope and found oncologist Dr. Ravi Salgia, whose expertise in ALK-positive lung cancer, and his personal kindness, made an immediate difference. 

“He’s just fabulous,” Robyn says. “We know he truly cares. He was the right fit for us.” 

Remarkably, they first met him not in a clinic, but at the GO2 SoCal 5K Walk/Run. From there, their involvement with the lung cancer community deepened. They have since attended ALK Summits, watched Lung Cancer Living Room^® sessions, participated in local walks, and gotten to know other families navigating similar paths.  

“We follow so many stories now,” Bob says. “We pray for these people. When we see them at events, we’re hugging each other like family.”  

Moving forward and finding joy again

“You wouldn’t believe the things he does now,” Robyn laughs. “Talking to people, getting out there; it’s amazing.” 

Bob smiles. “I’m a private person. At first, I didn’t want anyone to know about my diagnosis. I didn’t want, ‘Poor Bobby.’ I isolated myself. But that wasn’t the right way.” 

Now, the opposite is true. Their world is bigger, their community wider, and their bond—already strong—has deepened. Through it all, their love story has been its own anchor. 

When asked what Robyn has meant to him through this experience, Bob’s voice softens: “She’s my eyes, my ears, my brain. She figures things out when I say forget it. She’s a dog with a bone, in a good way,” he says, smiling. “She made me a better person, and I wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t here.” 

Robyn laughs. “And he takes care of me too. We’re a great team. We’ve been through everything together. We’re 100 percent connected.” 

Their partnership shows up in small ways too, like the matching outfits Bob now wears willingly to every appointment. 

“If you really knew me,” he says, “you’d say there’s no way I would do that, but here I am.” 

“He even picks out the shirts now,” Robyn adds. 

Reclaiming hope

For Bob, hope isn’t an abstract concept. It’s deeply practical. 

“I’m a glass-half-full person,” he says. “Hope, for me, is a vision. It’s imagining us traveling more and watching our family grow.” 

Robyn adds, “There was a time we didn’t know if we could do anything. We were stuck. Now we have things to look forward to, and that gives us hope.” 

Their faith plays a role too.  

“We’re trying to normalize something that’s been very abnormal,” Bob says. “But we don’t take anything for granted. We know how blessed we are, and we give thanks for that.” 

Advice for others hearing the words: “You have lung cancer.”

When asked what they would tell someone newly diagnosed, Bob doesn’t hesitate.  

“Take a deep breath,” he says. “Know that there are solutions. Lean on doctors, support groups, and organizations like GO2. Reach out. You will not embarrass yourself. You will not be judged. It’s overwhelming, but you’re not alone.”  

Robyn jumps in gently: “And rely on your care partner to listen for you. That’s what’s hardest. People isolate themselves. They don’t want to talk. But listening, sharing, getting support, it can change everything.” 

Bob nods. “I wasted 6, 7, 8 months isolating myself. If I can help anyone, I’d say, get out there and get yourself uncomfortable. People really do care.”