I was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer at 47, at a time when my life felt full and deeply established. I was raising my boys, growing my company, and stepping into a version of myself that felt both grounded and expansive. There was no clear indication that something was seriously wrong, and like many women, I moved through subtle signs without stopping to fully investigate them, telling myself I would get to it when things slowed down.

They never did.

Looking back, my diagnosis was not the result of a single moment, but rather a series of small decisions that felt reasonable at the time. Pushing through discomfort, delaying appointments, and prioritizing everything else over my own health had become second nature, and it is a pattern I now recognize in so many women who are balancing families, careers, and constant responsibility.

Since that moment, my life has shifted into something entirely different than I could have imagined.

For more than four years, I have been in continuous treatment. This has included over one hundred infusions, multiple treatment protocols, surgeries, and an ongoing cycle of reassessment as each phase of care evolves. There is no clear finish line in this type of diagnosis, and what you begin to understand over time is that you are not working toward an end as much as you are learning how to live within it.

That reality brings with it a level of complexity that extends far beyond the physical experience of treatment.

Navigating the medical system requires constant coordination, decision making, and advocacy. Care is not centralized, and you are often moving between specialists, institutions, and treatment plans, managing appointments, research, and logistics while also processing the emotional weight of what you are facing. I am currently preparing to begin another aggressive treatment regimen while simultaneously pursuing clinical trials across City of Hope, UCI, and Cedars-Sinai, which has required building a broader, more intentional team around me.

From the very beginning, I have not navigated this alone.

Dr. Vaale Gafori, who has been both my physician and a close friend for years, played a pivotal role in ensuring I was seen and supported early in my diagnosis. She connected me to Shenell Malloy and the Do Cancer community, opening the door to a level of care and support that extends beyond traditional medicine. She continues to advocate for me today, offering both perspective and guidance when clarity and trust are essential.

I have also asked my cousins to step in as advocates, helping to attend appointments and support research when the volume of information becomes too much to carry alone. This level of involvement is not optional in long-term care, it is necessary.

At the same time, I have come to understand that there are many individuals and families who live in this reality for years, sometimes a decade or more. That perspective changes the way you think about time and forces you to shift from searching for an endpoint to learning how to sustain yourself physically, emotionally, and mentally within the experience.

This broader reality is becoming increasingly visible. There has been a clear rise in colorectal cancer diagnoses in younger populations, many of whom are otherwise healthy and active, and whose lives are deeply rooted in family and career. Public awareness has grown in part through deeply personal and high-profile losses, including that of James Van Der Beek, whose passing at a young age, leaving behind young children, has brought a sharper focus to how quickly these diseases can progress and how profoundly they affect families.

Support has been the most important part of this process.

My partner Dan has been a constant presence through every phase of this journey, offering steadiness and care in moments that felt overwhelming. My family has shown up not only emotionally, but in the practical ways that make it possible to continue navigating treatment. And through Do Cancer, I have had access to a level of support that extends beyond traditional medical care, including therapy, nutritional guidance, and connection to others who understand this experience in a deeply personal way.

That support has allowed me to approach my care more holistically, not just focusing on treatment, but on how I live within it.

This experience ultimately led to the creation of The Power Edit, a self-awareness initiative designed to encourage women, particularly mothers, to pause and consider their own health before something forces that pause upon them. Too often, we operate in a constant state of giving, leaving very little space to check in with ourselves in a meaningful way.

At its core, this work is deeply personal. It is grounded in the understanding that self-care is not something optional or indulgent, but something essential. Self-care is not a luxury, it is a requirement for survival.

Because too often, by the time we are forced to stop, the cost of not doing so earlier is far greater than we ever imagined.

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Stacie is the Founder & CEO of CrunchCare, which provides short-term and long-term in-home care solutions.