I’m not just riding for myself and my battle against cancer—I’m riding in honor of everyone in my family who has battled, or is still battling, this formidable enemy. My journey with cancer has been nothing short of a whirlwind, testing my resilience at every turn. It began on September 30th, when I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Metastatic Melanoma. How I discovered it is a story of persistence, intuition, and the unexpected twists life can throw our way.

Back in April of 2022, my day started like any other. On my way to work, I got a flat tire on the Mass Pike—a busy highway filled with roaring 18-wheelers. As I stood on the roadside, rushing to change the tire, I pulled a muscle in my back. At the time, I thought it was just an annoyance, something that would heal in a few days. But as the weeks passed, the pain didn’t subside. I tried everything: visits to my primary care doctor, sessions with a chiropractor, and medications like muscle relaxers and Motrin. Despite all this, the pain only worsened, lingering for months. I was told to rest and give it time, but something deep down told me this was more than a muscle strain.

Then came August, when everything changed. One morning, with a simple sneeze, I felt and heard a crack in my back. The pain was instant and unbearable, radiating down my leg with a force that was impossible to ignore. I knew this was no ordinary injury. I called my PCP and demanded an MRI, convinced that something was seriously wrong. I had reached my limit.

The MRI results revealed the truth: a compression fracture had destroyed part of my L2 vertebra, and a soft tissue mass had been found within it. The mass was so large that it had started to compress my spinal column and nerves. My world came to a standstill.

On September 26th, not only was this the day of my grandmother’s wake, but I also underwent a biopsy of the mass. Not getting the time to even mourn the loss of my beloved grandmother, the next four days felt like an eternity as I waited for the results, each moment filled with uncertainty and fear. Then came the call that would change everything: Stage 4 Metastatic Melanoma.

The news was devastating, but I knew I couldn’t let it consume me. I immediately reached out to Dana-Farber, one of the best cancer centers in the country. Just three days later, after I made the call, on October 3rd, I met with a team of incredible doctors who specialize in this specific type of cancer. They listened, they cared, and they created a treatment plan that gave me hope. I started immunotherapy on October 6, 2022.

Immunotherapy was both a blessing and a challenge. The side effects were tough to endure, and after many hospital stays from suffering borderline liver failure, non-bacterial meningitis (inflammation of the protective membranes covering the brain and spinal cord), and many others, I reminded myself that every ache, every discomfort, was a sign that the treatment was working—waging war on the cancer cells in my body. The journey hasn’t been easy. I’ve endured countless blood tests, doctor’s appointments, and the emotional toll that comes with fighting a life-threatening disease. There were even two surgeries scheduled to address the tumor, but to everyone’s amazement, they were canceled. Why? Because in just over a month of starting treatment, the tumor had already shrunk significantly, pulling off my spinal column.

Due to the significant side effects I experienced from immunotherapy, my oncology team decided to add radiation therapy as an additional measure to target the tumor in my spine. To ensure its complete eradication and prevent any recurrence, I underwent five days of intensive radiation treatment.

However, just a couple of months later, new concerns arose. A spot appeared in my right buttock, and another spot on the outer right side of my brain, which had been under observation since the beginning of my diagnosis. While a biopsy of the brain lesion wasn’t feasible due to the complexity and risks of invasive brain surgery, the spot in my buttock was accessible for testing. The biopsy confirmed melanoma.

Following this discovery, my doctors initiated a targeted therapy regimen—an oral treatment requiring me to take multiple pills daily. This therapy proved effective, successfully eliminating the cancerous growth in my buttock, and I am still on this targeted treatment indefinitely due to its promising potential for keeping this cancer at bay.

Unfortunately, the spot on my brain presented a greater challenge. The blood-brain barrier, a protective shield that restricts many substances from entering the brain, limited the effectiveness of the targeted therapy. The treatment showed little to no impact on this lesion. Moreover, since there was no definitive way to confirm whether the brain spot was cancerous without invasive surgery, my oncology team made the proactive decision to proceed with radiation therapy to address it.

This journey has taught me so much about strength, perseverance, and the power of community. I’m riding not only to celebrate my own progress but to honor those who have fought before me and those who are still in the fight, just like myself. Cancer may have tried to break me, but it has only strengthened my resolve to keep pushing forward—for myself, for my family, and for anyone facing this battle.