I Did Everything Right. So Why Am I Still Fighting to Stay Alive?

© 2026 Denelle Suranski. All rights reserved. This is my story.

I was 19 years old when I was diagnosed with colorectal cancer.

Nineteen.

Not later in life.

Not when you're supposed to worry about that.

Nineteen.

Before I even had the chance to fully become an adult, I was fighting for my life.

I survived.

But survival doesn’t mean the fight is over.

It just means the fight changes.

I come from a family where cancer isn’t surprising.

It’s expected.

It took my great-grandfather.

It took my grandfather.

It took my dad.

It took my uncle.

It took my cousin.

Cancer runs through my bloodline like something I was never given a choice about.

And because of that, I don’t get to forget.

I live with it.

Every year.

Every scan.

Every appointment.

Every moment of waiting for results that could change everything.

Here’s what people don’t understand:

Colorectal cancer is one of the most preventable cancers we have.

And yet… it’s still one of the leading causes of cancer deaths.

Make that make sense.

I’ve spent over two decades making sure other people understand that.

I’ve told my story publicly.

I’ve spoken in rooms where people would rather not hear it.

I’ve supported awareness campaigns, pushed for change, showed up when it mattered.

People in my community know me for this.

The one who talks about screenings.

The one who won’t let people ignore it.

The one pushing others to take their health seriously.

And I meant every word.

But here’s the part no one talks about:

You can do everything right…and still end up fighting the system more than the disease.

I had consistent care once.

A doctor who didn’t just read my chart…but actually understood my body.

The history.

The reconstruction.

The long-term impact of surviving something like this.

For years, there was a plan.

There was structure.

There was safety.

And then one day… that was gone.

Not because I didn’t need it.

Not because I chose something different.

Because of a decision that had nothing to do with my health.

Since then, I’ve been shuffled.

Different doctors.

Different conversations.

The same story told over and over again like it’s brand new information.

No continuity.

No real care team.

No one who truly sees the full picture.

I missed a yearly screening.

Not by choice.

When I finally got in, they found a precancerous polyp.

Too large to remove during that visit.

A month later… it had grown.

That’s how fast things change.

That’s how little room there is for error.

At one point, I was told I might not need to come back for three years.

Three years.

After everything.

After my history.

After my family.

That’s not just frustrating.

That’s terrifying.

I’ve had to schedule my own follow-ups.

Push for answers.

Advocate for myself while still processing what’s happening.

My “care team” right now feels like… me trying not to fall through the cracks.

And I am fucking exhausted.

I’m tired of being dismissed.

Tired of delays.

Tired of feeling like I have to prove that my life is worth protecting.

Because for me, this isn’t optional care.

This is the difference between catching something early…or not catching it at all.

I shouldn’t have to fight this hard to stay alive.

Not after surviving cancer once.

Not after doing the work.

Not after spending years telling others to take this seriously.

If someone like me—

who understands the risks,

who follows the rules,

who advocates not just for herself but for others—

can still end up here…

then what does that say about everyone else?

I’m not writing this for sympathy.

I’m writing this because this is what it actually looks like.

Not the campaigns.

Not the polished stories.

This.

The gaps.

The waiting.

The fear.

The exhaustion.

I’m still here.

Still fighting.

Still pushing.

Still refusing to become another statistic in something that could have been prevented.

So here’s what I need you to take with you:

Listen to your body. Push back when something feels off. Don’t let anyone dismiss you just because you don’t “fit the profile.” Because early detection only works…if people actually let you access it.