Lung cancer stories

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 two 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.

When Paul Poblete signed up to run the New York City half marathon, he wasn't just chasing a personal goal. Every training run, every early morning, and every mile had a deeper purpose.

Paul joined the GO2 for Lung Cancer Endurance Team to honor his father, who was diagnosed with combined small cell lung cancer (CSCLC) in 2021, and to help make a difference for other families facing the disease.

What started as marathon training became an opportunity to raise awareness, inspire others, and support the lung cancer community in a meaningful way.

We recently caught up with Paul to learn more about what motivated him to join the GO2 Endurance Team, what he learned along the way, and what advice he has for others considering taking on a race for a cause.

Running for something bigger than yourself

For Paul, choosing GO2 as his charity partner was deeply personal.

"My family was directly impacted when my father was diagnosed with CSCLC in 2021," he shared. "I understand the grief and uncertainty that families experience. I wanted to do something that could help make an impact, not only by raising money but also by raising awareness."

Like so many families, Paul's life changed after his father's diagnosis. Training for a marathon became more than a fitness challenge. It became a way to channel his energy into something positive while honoring his father's experience and supporting others navigating lung cancer.

"I wanted to run for a cause that had impacted not just my family, but so many others around the world."

Finding purpose through the GO2 Endurance Team

Training for a marathon requires commitment, discipline, and countless hours on the road. Paul says knowing that every mile represented something bigger than himself helped keep him motivated.

"Having the ability to raise awareness while raising funds for a personal cause was such a fulfilling feeling," he said.

He also appreciated the support provided through the GO2 Endurance Team.

"The organization provided all the resources I needed to have a successful campaign. From fundraising tips and tricks to a dedicated running coach, everything was there. The entire process was a lot of fun."

For Paul, the combination of training, fundraising, and connecting with a community united by a common purpose made the experience especially meaningful.

"Training and contributing to something bigger than myself really kept me grounded and grateful."

Every donation came with a mile

One of the most creative parts of Paul's fundraising campaign was finding a way to personally thank every donor.

He promised to dedicate one mile of training for every $10 donated. During those runs, he would give donors a shoutout on social media. For supporters who weren't on social media, he recorded personalized videos during his training runs and sent them directly.

The idea not only encouraged donations but also kept people engaged throughout his marathon journey.

"I was telling everyone that I would dedicate a mile during training for every $10 they donated," Paul explained. "I'd post a story during that run with their shoutout."

The approach quickly gained momentum.

"I even had friends donate just so they could make me run," he laughed.

By consistently sharing updates, celebrating donors, and inviting others into his journey, Paul kept his campaign visible while making every supporter feel like they were part of the experience.

The power of community

While fundraising was an important goal, Paul says one of the biggest surprises was the overwhelming support he received.

"I was surprised by how many people in my network wanted to support the cause, regardless of how close we were."

Many donations also came with something even more meaningful: personal stories.

"A lot of people shared how cancer had impacted their own lives. The support from everyone was inspiring."

Those conversations reminded Paul that lung cancer affects far more people than many realize. His campaign became an opportunity not only to raise funds, but also to create space for people to share their own experiences and honor loved ones.

Advice for future marathon runners

For anyone thinking about tackling a marathon, Paul's advice is to stay patient and enjoy the process.

"Stay consistent, but remember that progress isn't linear," he said. "There will be times when it gets hard, and you'll want to give up, but in the end it will all be worth it."

He also recommends finding others to train alongside.

"Find friends who want to train with you or join a run club. Running with a group makes it much more enjoyable."

Above all, he encourages runners not to lose sight of the experience itself.

"Have fun and enjoy it. It will be one of the most rewarding experiences of your life."

Advice for future fundraisers

Paul's fundraising success also came from being willing to share his story often and in different ways.

His advice?

"Utilize all your resources to spread awareness, from word of mouth to social media, even LinkedIn. Cast a wide net and repost often."

“People want opportunities to support causes that they care about,” he says. “Sometimes they simply need to be asked.”

Creating a fun, interactive campaign helped people feel personally connected to his fundraising goals and kept the momentum going from start to finish.

Ready to run for hope?

Whether you're an experienced runner chasing your next marathon or someone looking for a new challenge with purpose, the GO2 Endurance Team offers an opportunity to turn every mile into hope for people affected by lung cancer.

As Paul's story shows, fundraising is about much more than reaching a finish line. It's about honoring loved ones, building community, raising awareness, and helping create a future with better outcomes for everyone affected by lung cancer.

Join the GO2 Endurance Team and help us confront lung cancer one mile at a time

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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.

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Laura lives in Camden, South Carolina, where she loves horseback riding, playing Mahjong, and is opening her very own Mahjong studio. She is a Veteran who receives care through the Veterans Administration (VA) and is an active advocate for lung cancer awareness.

Laura never expected lung cancer to be part of her story. At 38, she was doing everything she was supposed to do. She was keeping up with annual appointments through the VA, staying active, and paying attention to her health. Lung cancer wasn’t even on her radar.  

But looking back, there were signs. She had a lingering cough that began the previous spring, fatigue that she chalked up to stress from work and life, and congestion that allergy medications never seemed to touch. Occasionally, she even coughed up blood. But like many people, especially younger people, she never imagined it could mean lung cancer.

“I was so focused on all the other cancers,” Laura said. “My mom died of colon cancer, so I started getting colonoscopies in my twenties. I kept up with everything they tell you to be aware of related to women’s health. But lung cancer was nowhere on my radar.”  

During a routine visit at the VA in April 2023, Laura mentioned the cough to her doctor, along with wrist pain, exhaustion, and a handful of other symptoms that had slowly become part of everyday life. Because Veterans are diagnosed with lung cancer at higher rates than the general population, her care team ordered a chest X-ray right away.

The chest X-ray appeared to show a small 6-millimeter nodule in her right lung. It was small enough that her care team reassured her it was common in service members. They'd just monitor it with a CT scan to make sure it wasn't growing.

Then the CT results came back. The nodule wasn't 6 millimeters. It was almost 6 centimeters.

Her doctor called her that afternoon. She told Laura she was sorry and that she was going to schedule her with an oncologist right away. Laura didn't even know what to say.

"I'm sorry, ‘oncologist?’ What do you mean? Why do I need an oncologist? Could it be anything else?" she asked.

"Based on the size of [the nodule]," the doctor told her, "No. It's going to be cancer."

The importance of biomarker testing

A few days later, Laura underwent a biopsy through the VA’s partnership with the Medical University of South Carolina (MUSC). Her pulmonologist immediately emphasized the importance of comprehensive biomarker testing before starting treatment. It’s a step that Laura now knows was critical.

“They said, ‘We’re going to get a lot of tissue, send it for genetic testing, and wait for those results before deciding on treatment,’” she said. “I was lucky. This is how everybody should be treated.”  

The results confirmed that Laura had stage 4 (IV) ALK-positive lung cancer, a form of non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC) driven by an ALK biomarker. Although hearing the words “stage 4” was devastating, learning she had a biomarker also meant she had highly targeted treatment options available.

At first, Laura started treatment with alectinib, an ALK-targeted therapy. But while the medication effectively treated her cancer, the side effects became difficult to manage.

Eventually, after struggling with side effects and elevated liver enzymes, Laura transitioned to lorlatinib, another ALK-targeted therapy she says has allowed her to regain much of her quality of life.

“I have energy again,” she said. “It’s so much better.”

Learning to live with uncertainty

Still, adjusting to life with metastatic lung cancer has been about far more than finding the right medication. Laura describes the emotional aftermath of diagnosis as one of the hardest parts of her experience.

“The diagnosis is world-upending,” she said. “First, you think you’re going to die. Then, actually, no. Maybe you’re not going to die right away. And, OK, you’re excited to be doing so well, but now you have to figure out how to live this entirely new way.”  

Over time, Laura has learned that coping doesn’t always mean fixing everything. In fact, some of her biggest lessons have come from letting go of the illusion of control.

“I went a little crazy trying to control everything at first,” she said. “I changed my diet, exercised constantly, and stopped drinking alcohol overnight. I just wanted to do something.”  

“Over time, I had to learn to let go a little, and that I don’t need to solve every bad feeling,” she said. “I control what I can control and let the bad days come when they come. It doesn’t mean it’s forever.”  

That shift in perspective has helped Laura rebuild a life that still feels joyful and meaningful. After her diagnosis, she moved to Camden, South Carolina, where she now spends time horseback riding, playing mahjong, and preparing to open a mahjong studio, a project she enthusiastically describes as her latest obsession.

“When I’m into something, I’m serious about it,” she laughed. “It’s been good to channel that energy from cancer to something more fun.”

Finding community and hope

Laura has also become involved in advocacy through GO2 for Lung Cancer and the ALK Positive community. Attending advocacy events and scientific summits has transformed the way she thinks about the future.

“Every year at the ALK Summit, researchers and doctors show us what they’re working on,” she said. “You realize there are absolutely brilliant people out there who care deeply about helping us live longer.”  

Sharing her story on Capitol Hill during GO2’s Voices Summit has also shown her how much education is still needed around lung cancer.

“I realized legislators and staffers often don’t know anything about lung cancer,” she said. “Sharing my story was an opportunity to teach them about the disease and what is needed to better treat it.”  

Today, Laura hopes her story helps challenge outdated assumptions about who gets lung cancer and what life after diagnosis can look like, especially for younger people, Veterans, and people living with biomarker-driven disease.

Her biggest advice for someone newly diagnosed?

“Take your time,” she said. “You don’t have to figure everything out right now.”  

She also strongly encourages others to find community.

“The biggest help for me was joining a supportive group and talking to people going through the same thing,” Laura said. “You realize you’re not alone, and that’s priceless.”  

“There’s so much more coming”

Three years after her diagnosis, Laura knows life still includes uncertainty, grief, and hard days. But it also includes hope, connection, and plans for the future.

“It’s so empowering to see all the advances happening in research,” she said, “I really believe there’s so much more coming.”  

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.

When Bob Neary passed away from lung cancer in February 2013, his family was left with immense grief. A devoted husband, father, coach, and community member, Bob touched countless lives during his 63 years. Today, more than a decade later, his memory continues to inspire friends and family through Team Bob Neary, an annual community walk that raises awareness and funds for lung cancer research.

Bob’s story is one of resilience, family, and service. He was the youngest of 8 children in a close-knit Irish family. Having lost his mother to kidney disease when he was just 7 years old, Bob understood hardship from an early age. Tragically, lung cancer would later claim both his father and Bob himself at the same age.

After moving to Houston as newlyweds, Bob and his wife Alice built a life centered on family and community. Bob worked as an investment banker at Amegy Bank and spent countless hours coaching his children’s soccer, baseball, softball, and T-ball teams. His commitment to youth sports eventually led him to serve as Commissioner of the Spring Branch Baseball Association, where he helped oversee one of the largest baseball organizations in West Houston.

“He was very involved in our children’s sporting events,” Alice recalls. “He coached their teams for many years and was always there.”

Following Bob’s diagnosis in July 2012 and his passing just 7 months after undergoing radiation and chemotherapy, his family searched for a meaningful way to honor his life.

“I had a longing to do something to keep his memory alive,” Alice said.

After attending a lung cancer walk hosted by the organization that is now GO2 in downtown Houston, an idea began to take shape. The family realized that hosting an event closer to home might make it easier for friends and neighbors to participate. Together, they created what would become Team Bob Neary’s annual community walk.

What began in 2016 as a local gathering has grown into a cherished tradition led by Alice. This year marks the walk’s 10th anniversary. Since its inception, Team Bob Neary has raised more than $32,550 to support GO2 for Lung Cancer’s mission to save lives, increase survivorship, and improve quality of life for those affected by lung cancer.

The event takes place near Terry Hershey Park in Houston’s Energy Corridor, a beautiful park that stretches for miles along the bayou. The location was intentionally chosen to make participation convenient and welcoming.

“Getting into downtown Houston is a hassle,” Alice explains. “If we started the walk at 9 a.m., people would still have most of their Saturday free.”

That simple approach has resonated with supporters year after year. Friends return each November, and family members from across the country have even flown in to take part.

“Having so many of our friends who faithfully come to our walk each year has meant so much to my children and me,” Alice said. “We have had family members fly in for the weekend to attend; it is hard to put into words how grateful we are.”

Typically, around 30 participants gather for the walk. For those unable to complete the route, there is always an invitation to join afterward for breakfast, a tradition that has become one of the event’s most meaningful elements.

After the walk concludes, participants head back to the Neary home to share a meal, reconnect, and celebrate the community that has formed around Bob’s memory.

“I love having everyone back to my house for breakfast,” Alice said. “It’s a way for me to give back and thank everyone for their support.”

The personal touches don’t end there. Participants proudly wear Team Bob Neary T-shirts, often sparking conversations with curious passersby along the trail.

“Every year during the walk, people stop and ask what Team Bob Neary means,” Alice said. “Maybe that small gesture will make someone think about donating or starting something of their own.”

For Bob’s family, the event has become much more than a fundraiser. It has evolved into a powerful source of healing.

While she hadn’t initially viewed the walk as part of her grief journey, looking back, she recognizes the role it has played.

“If by doing the walk every year, raising money and awareness has contributed in some small way to help find a cure for this awful disease, I am not only honoring Bob’s memory but maybe helping someone else and their family not having to go through the pain and suffering of losing a loved one.”

Among Alice’s favorite memories are the years when her daughter and son-in-law returned home after living in Abu Dhabi, UAE, for 8 years, where they welcomed 3 sons. Being able to walk together as a family upon their return to the United States added an extra layer of joy and meaning to the event. Alice is also deeply grateful for the steadfast support of her son and daughter-in-law over the years. She says their love, encouragement, and presence have meant more than words can express and have been an important part of the journey.

Throughout the years, GO2 for Lung Cancer has been a trusted partner in Team Bob Neary’s fundraising efforts.

“GO2 for Lung Cancer has been so supportive over the years,” she says. “They are always there to answer questions or help in any way they can.”

For anyone considering starting a community fundraiser or advocacy effort of their own, she acknowledges that it requires time and dedication. Organizing invitations, tracking donations, coordinating attendees, and sending thank-you notes all take effort.

Yet the rewards far outweigh the work.

“Every year at the end of the walk, I know it was so worth the effort,” Alice said. “Not only is it wonderful to be with devoted friends and family who show up every year, but to feel that you are making a contribution to help end cancer is the best feeling in the world.”

Looking ahead, her hopes remain simple.

“If time and health allow, I hope to continue our annual walk, to raise money and awareness, and to honor Bob for as long as possible.”

Learn more about how you can create your own fundraiser supporting GO2 for Lung Cancer. 

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.

Michelle Bos-Lun is a third term state representative in the Vermont General Assembly. She lives in Westminster with her husband. She has 3 adult children and 2 grandchildren. Michelle is an enthusiastic vegan cook and baker, a mushroom forager, a hiker, and an advocate for lung cancer.  

When Michelle returned home from a trip to Nepal last year, she soon found herself unable to get out of bed. At first, she thought she had jet lag, but when her symptoms worsened, she ended up in the hospital.  

What followed was a whirlwind of tests and uncertainty that led to a diagnosis she hadn’t expected: scrub typhus, a rare and potentially life-threatening infection she had contracted while traveling.

But the story didn’t end there. In the process of trying to understand why she was so sick, doctors ordered a chest X-ray and saw something there that they couldn’t explain.

Three weeks and even more tests later, Michelle received a second surprising diagnosis: lung cancer.  

A diagnosis she never expected

Like so many others, lung cancer wasn’t something Michelle imagined would happen to her until it did.  

“Before my diagnosis, I knew of one person who had lung cancer without a smoking history,” she said. “So, while I knew it was possible, it didn’t seem at all likely. But lots of people aren’t good candidates for lung cancer, and yet it still finds us.”

Still, even in the face of a stage 3B (IIIB) diagnosis, her reaction was not what many might expect.

“I’m pretty pragmatic about things,” she said. “When something comes up, I want to learn all about it and figure out what I can do to have the best results with a situation that isn’t ideal.”

That instinct to learn, adapt, and move forward has shaped everything that’s followed  

“I won the lottery”

After her initial diagnosis, Michelle entered a waiting period, one filled with a lot of questions, but few clear answers. Her oncologist couldn’t yet tell her what kind of lung cancer she had or how it would be treated. The outlook he shared at that point was sobering.

But there was one 1 possibility that offered hope, and that was a genetic mutation.

Her doctor told her, “If you have a mutation, there are some really good targeted therapies.”

Two weeks later, the call came. Michelle had ALK-positive lung cancer.

“He told me I won the lottery,” she said. “I had the best one with the best treatment.”

Within days of starting the targeted therapy, Lorbrena (loralatinib), her persistent cough, which was her only noticeable symptom, had disappeared. A few months later, her first scan showed her cancer had been reduced by nearly 50%.

“My doctor actually said, ‘This is even better than I would have expected,’” Michelle said.

A whole-person approach

From the beginning, Michelle approached her diagnosis the same way she has approached much of her life by integrating different perspectives, experiences, and tools. Having spent part of her adolescence in Taiwan, and as a long-practicing Buddhist, she was already comfortable holding multiple ways of thinking at once.

“My life has been a mixture of East and West since I was 12,” she said. “So, when I got cancer, it made sense to include a variety of different resources and approaches.”

Her treatment plan reflects that. Alongside her targeted therapy, Michelle has built a daily routine that supports her body in other ways:

• Tai Chi twice a day to improve circulation and manage neuropathy

• Walking several miles each day

• Bi-weekly acupuncture

• Regular lymphatic massage

• A nutrient-dense, plant-based diet including daily kale smoothies, large salads, and roasted vegetables with whole grains

“I feel as healthy as I’ve ever been. Except I have cancer,” she said.  

It’s a paradox she doesn’t shy away from. And it’s one she’s actively working to sustain.

“The lorlatinib gets credit for 75% of my healing, and my kale smoothies get the other 25%,” she joked.  

Choosing hope—on purpose  

Michelle is quick to acknowledge that everyone responds to a diagnosis differently. But for her, hope is not something she has to force; it’s something she naturally gravitates toward.

“I think you can choose to look at the hardest parts, or you can look at the possible good outcomes,” she said. “For me, it’s more satisfying to look at the positive. I try to find the best-case scenarios and aim for those.”

Even before her diagnosis was confirmed, she made a conscious choice not to dwell in pessimism.

“Before my lung biopsy, I thought, I don’t think it’s very likely that this is lung cancer, so I’m not going to worry about it,” she said. “And then when it turned out to be cancer, I said, ‘Okay, so when can we figure out how to treat this?’ I could have spent that time scared, but being scared wouldn’t have changed the outcome, only how I experienced the time leading up to it. That’s sort of how I approach everything.”

Finding community and perspective

Like many people diagnosed with a biomarker-driven form of lung cancer, Michelle quickly found community among others living with ALK-positive disease.

“I feel like I’ve been welcomed into this club that none of us wanted to join,” she said. “But since we’re here, we’re there for each other.”

Through that community, she found not only information, but perspective, including examples of people living 10, 15, even 20 years after diagnosis. Their stories helped her understand the full range of what’s possible and where she might fit within it.

“Somebody would say, ‘my husband is 21 years out’, and I thought, what? We can live 21 years with this? Knowing that some people can live quite a long time made me feel like, okay, then I can make it too,” she said.

Not waiting anymore

If there is 1 theme that runs through Michelle’s story, it’s this: don’t wait.

After her diagnosis, she began thinking about the people she hadn’t seen in years and the friendships that had drifted with time and distance. She immediately set out to rectify that. Her first trip was to reconnect with a close friend she hadn’t seen in decades.

“I just thought, I don’t want to wait,” she said. “Why did I already wait 30 years? I’m not doing that again.”

Now, her “bucket list” isn’t about places; it’s about people – reunions, visits, and time spent together.

“I hope I’m going to be around for a long time,” she said. “But in case I’m not, I don’t want to wait to spend time with the people who matter most to me. I want to see them now.”

Turning experience into action

As a state legislator in Vermont, Michelle already had a platform. After her diagnosis, she chose to use it in a new way. From the very beginning, she has spoken publicly about her experiences, using them as an opportunity to raise awareness about lung cancer, and especially the importance of early detection.

“I thought, maybe I can help somebody else,” she said. “If I can help educate someone, then go ahead, use my story.”

After her story appeared on the front page of her local paper, she learned that at least two people went to their doctors to ask for chest X-rays. For Michelle, that was enough.

“That’s the whole point,” she said.

She is also working to connect her personal experience with broader public health efforts, including initiatives that emphasize nutrition as a core component of care.

“When people eat healthy food, it helps keep them healthy,” she said. “I’m a living example of that.”

Moving forward

Less than a year into her diagnosis, Michelle’s life looks both familiar and entirely new. She is still working, still advocating, and still showing up for her family.

But she is also living with a deeper sense of urgency and intention.

“When you get lemons, make lemonade,” she said. “Well, I’m making some lemonade.”

Only in Michelle’s case, it’s likely organic, and paired with a kale smoothie.

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.

For Janaki and Harsha, their wedding wasn’t just about celebrating a new chapter together; it was also an opportunity to honor the past, give back, and make a meaningful impact for others facing lung cancer.

Janaki’s connection to lung cancer is deeply personal. Her late husband, Kartik, was diagnosed with stage 4 (IV) lung cancer at just 28 years old while he was still a third-year internal medicine resident. Through a targeted clinical trial for his EML4/ALK mutation, he was able to continue working for several years before passing in 2015 at the age of 34. His journey continues to inspire Janaki’s commitment to supporting others impacted by the disease.

This was a second marriage that brought together 2 families, not starting from scratch. Material gifts didn’t feel necessary, but they knew their loved ones would still want to give something. That’s when they decided to turn their wedding into a fundraiser in honor of Kartik. “Many of our friends and family were familiar with Kartik’s journey,” Janaki said. “They were more than happy to donate, and several told us they thought it was a great idea.”

Lessons learned along the way

While their fundraiser was a success, Janaki reflects on what she might do differently.

“We didn’t initially go through GO2 because we were trying to get donations matched through companies,” she explained. “But in retrospect, it would have been easier, and likely more effective, to set up a GO2 fundraising page and link it directly on our wedding website.”

Planning ahead, she noted, could have streamlined the process and avoided fees from other fundraising platforms.  

But what surprised them most was the incredible generosity of their community. “We were amazed by how much money we were able to raise.”

Tips for turning your own wedding into a fundraiser

For couples considering a similar approach, Janaki offers practical advice:

• Start early. Wedding planning gets busy, so give yourself time to set things up properly.  

• Keep it simple. A direct link to a fundraising page makes it easy for guests to contribute.  

• Spread the word beyond the website. Share your fundraiser at pre-wedding events or gatherings. Many guests won’t check every page on a website.  

• Create in-person opportunities. If you’re hosting events leading up to the wedding, like bridal showers, engagement parties, etc, consider setting up a donation box.  

• Ask for help. Friends and family are often eager to support both your wedding and your cause.  

Continuing the impact

Even beyond their fundraiser, Janaki continues to connect others to GO2’s resources and recently referred a family friend for support.

“I love seeing what the organization is doing for patients and in research,” she said. “It’s providing hope and that’s one of the most important things when facing lung cancer.”

Make your celebration count

Inspired by Janaki and Harsha’s story? You can turn your own milestone—whether it’s a wedding, birthday, or special event—into a powerful way to support people impacted by lung cancer.

Start your own fundraiser benefiting GO2 and help bring hope to patients and families who need it most.  

Learn more about how you can create your own fundraiser for GO2 for Lung Cancer. 

For Amita Jain, MD, lung cancer is not just a diagnosis. It’s a lived experience that has shaped her life across multiple roles as a physician, a patient, a daughter, a caregiver, and an advocate.

Her family’s lung cancer story spans generations. In July 2018, her mother, Usha Jain, a retired UC Berkeley professor, was diagnosed with stage 4 (IV) non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC) despite having no smoking history. Just 6 months later, Amita herself would receive the same diagnosis.

While both women faced advanced disease, their treatment paths diverged. Usha underwent chemotherapy and immunotherapy for nearly 2 years before stopping treatment and transitioning to routine scans. That period (often described clinically as “watch and wait”) felt anything but passive to her family.

“It was hard to feel as though we were ‘doing nothing,’” Amita recalls.

Turning to navigation for answers

As both a physician and a caregiver, Amita understood medicine, but even she found the complexity of lung cancer care overwhelming.

Navigating next steps after treatment, understanding emerging options, and keeping up with rapidly evolving research can feel like a full-time job, especially for families already carrying the emotional weight of a diagnosis.

So, Amita reached out to GO2's LungMATCH navigation program.

“I called the navigators and furnished my mom’s tumor’s genetic profile,” she says. “They reached out a day later with information on some trials for which she might qualify.”

Although her mother ultimately chose not to pursue clinical trials, the impact of that interaction was profound.

“While we did not take action on the options that the navigator provided, the information was empowering,” Amita explains. “It really helped us understand the ‘lay of the land’ in her particular situation.”

Bridging the gap between information and understanding

Even for someone with medical training, the experience revealed an important truth.  Access to information is not the same as understanding it.

“Navigating is complex and scary, and getting all the information is difficult if you are not an oncologist,” Amita says. “The navigator that I spoke with was both professional and prompt. That information made me feel as though we understood our options—and that was extremely reassuring.”

For patients and families, that reassurance can be transformative.

A lung cancer diagnosis often brings not only fear, but also a sense of powerlessness. Decisions feel urgent; stakes are high, and the volume of information can be paralyzing.

“The navigator can serve as a bridge to knowledge,” Amita says. “Knowledge is power. Having a diagnosis of lung cancer can be shocking, but more importantly you do feel a bit powerless and overwhelmed. The navigators serve as a resource and lifeline.”

The invisible work of navigation

What many patients don’t see is the depth of work happening behind the scenes.

Navigators are constantly reviewing evolving research, identifying clinical trials, interpreting biomarker data, and translating complex medical information into something patients can actually use to discuss with their care teams.

“Keeping up on the information is a full-time job that most of us are not trained to do,” Amita says.

That expertise becomes especially critical at moments of uncertainty, like when treatment ends, and the path forward is unclear.

In those moments, navigation doesn’t just guide decisions; it restores a sense of control.

Strengthening navigation for the future

Stories like Amita’s mother’s underscore the critical role navigators play, not just in coordinating care, but in empowering patients and families with clarity, confidence, and connection.

To support and strengthen this role, GO2 for Lung Cancer partnered with leading experts to develop a comprehensive resource for those on the front lines of patient care.

The Lung Cancer Navigator: A Guide for Nurses and Allied Health Professionals textbook is designed to equip health professionals with the knowledge and tools they need to guide patients through every step of the lung cancer experience, from diagnosis to survivorship.

By investing in navigator education, we can ensure that more patients and families experience what Amita describes so clearly: the shift from feeling overwhelmed and uncertain to being informed and empowered.

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