The summer after high school graduation is supposed to be a time for celebration—a chance to enjoy life before heading off to college. What should have been the best summer of my life turned into my worst nightmare.

I had graduated at the top of my class, committed to college, and was looking forward to spending the summer with my family. One day, while I was working at our local grocery store, my father called. My sister was on the line as well. He told me my mother hadn't been feeling well that morning. She was extremely pale, exhausted, and faint. It had become so concerning that he called an ambulance. The paramedics rushed her to the hospital.

When she arrived, her blood pressure was only 54/20. She was in hemorrhagic shock and teetering on the edge of life and death. After an extensive workup in the emergency department and transfer to the ICU, the physicians discovered that a tumor in her stomach had ruptured, causing her to lose more than half of her body's blood volume over just a few days. The critical care physician later told us that if she had stood up even one more time before EMS arrived, she likely would have died.

My stomach dropped as I listened to my father's voice. I was completely paralyzed. I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. It felt as though I had left my own body and was watching someone else from across the room.

My sister and I immediately drove to the hospital. We met with my father and the physicians, who explained the next steps. Now that my mother was somewhat stable, they wanted to biopsy the tumor and determine whether it could be surgically removed. But first, they had to determine whether it was benign or malignant.

I wasn't ready to hear the "C word."

Unfortunately, the biopsy confirmed our fears. The tumor was malignant, and because it was so friable, attempting to remove it would have caused catastrophic bleeding. The surgeons made the difficult decision to stop the operation and begin chemotherapy first in hopes of shrinking the tumor enough to safely remove it later.

I watched my mother endure the devastating side effects of chemotherapy, feeling completely helpless. She never complained—not once. She faced every treatment with remarkable strength and grace. Meanwhile, I cried myself to sleep almost every night, terrified that I was going to lose my best friend, my role model, and the person who had always been my greatest source of strength. The idea of her never seeing me graduate from college, become a physician, get married, or meet her future grandchildren absolutely shattered me. I could not bear to think of what life would be like without her.

After she completed chemotherapy and I finished my first semester of college, she was finally scheduled for surgery just days before Christmas. We spent the holidays in the hospital, praying that everything would go smoothly and that we wouldn't lose her, let alone on Christmas Eve, my father's birthday, or Christmas Day.

Thankfully, the surgery was successful. The surgeon told us they believed they had removed the entire tumor, although she would require lifelong surveillance to monitor for recurrence.

Even after surgery, her journey was far from over.

She had to inject herself every day with a blood thinner despite her fear of needles. She took numerous medications, attended countless specialist appointments, underwent weekly bloodwork being poked like a pincushion, and had regular imaging to ensure the cancer had not returned. Every scan brought anxiety. Every appointment carried uncertainty.

Then another obstacle appeared.

Our insurance company began denying coverage for the surveillance scans her physicians deemed medically necessary. They claimed the imaging was unnecessary and too expensive. It wasn't unnecessary—it was essential follow-up after chemotherapy and major surgery to remove a cancerous tumor.

My parents appealed again and again. Her physicians submitted documentation explaining why the scans were critical. Specialists called the insurance company directly to advocate for her care. Still, the denials continued.

My father refused to let an insurance company determine whether his soulmate would have the opportunity to detect a recurrence early enough to receive treatment to give her a chance at survival. Every six months, my father paid thousands of dollars out of pocket so she could undergo the imaging her physicians knew she needed. The financial burden was enormous. Between medications, specialist visits, laboratory testing, and imaging, the costs accumulated quickly and created an incredible amount of stress during an already unimaginably difficult time.

Months later, after persistent advocacy from her medical team, the insurance company finally approved coverage for her surveillance imaging every six months. I remember exactly where I was when we received that news. It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from our family's shoulders. As time passed, though, I realized something: we should never have been grateful that an insurance company finally agreed to cover medically necessary care. It should never have required months of appeals, countless phone calls, and thousands of dollars out of my father's pocket before my mother could receive the surveillance recommended by the physicians who knew her condition best. That experience forever changed the way I view healthcare.

It taught me that receiving the right diagnosis is only one part of a patient's journey. Accessing the care recommended by their physicians—and being able to afford it—is often an entirely separate battle.

Those experiences are why I chose to pursue medicine. I want to care for patients not only in the clinic, but also beyond it by advocating for policies that ensure patients can access the treatments, medications, imaging, and follow-up care they need without unnecessary barriers. No family should have to fight for medically necessary care while also fighting for the life of someone they love.

My Motivation and Inspiration

My mother's journey, and the countless battles she fought with insurance throughout her cancer treatment and long after, lit a spark in me to become a patient advocate. No patient, caregiver, or family should have to spend precious time arguing with insurance companies or begging for coverage of lifesaving, medically necessary care while simultaneously coping with the emotional and physical burden of a cancer diagnosis.

The financial impact of chronic illness and cancer can be overwhelming, and for many families, even crippling. Nobody asks for cancer. Nobody asks for a chronic illness or a terminal diagnosis. Nobody chooses to spend more time in hospitals and infusion centers than at home with the people they love. Patients should not be forced to shoulder hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical expenses simply to receive the treatments that keep them alive, or at the very least, comfortable when there is nothing else that can be done.

Today, I am a medical student with the goal of becoming a physician who advocates for patients not only at the bedside, but also at the policy level. I know what it feels like to watch someone you love fight for their life while also fighting to access the care their physicians know they need. I never want another patient or family to feel as helpless as mine did.

That is why I am committed to advocating for a healthcare system that puts patients first—one where medically necessary treatments are guided by evidence and clinical expertise, where financial barriers do not determine health outcomes, and where no family has to fight two battles at once: one against disease and another against the system that is supposed to help them.

About the Advocate

Jenna (FL-23)

Medical Student · Patients Rising 2026 LEAD Class Graduate

Jenna is a medical student and graduate of the Patients Rising LEAD program. After watching her mother survive a ruptured gastrointestinal tumor and then fight her insurance company for the follow-up scans her doctors said she needed, Jenna committed herself to becoming a physician who advocates for patients both at the bedside and at the policy level.

Editor’s Note:
Patients Rising shares patient stories to raise awareness and reduce isolation among patients and caregivers navigating serious health conditions. Stories are submitted by patients and may be edited for clarity and flow while preserving the author’s voice. The experiences described are personal accounts and should not be considered medical advice.