Kirsty McDonald

Cancer is something that happens to other people right up until the day that you get your own diagnosis. I was 39 and had no family history of breast cancer the first time I visited Siteman in 2014. I’d happened across a small but distinct lump while on vacation and, despite the reassurance of friends and family that it was “likely nothing to worry about,” something pushed me to get a mammogram just to be sure.

When I checked into the Breast Health Center, there were around a half dozen other women in the waiting room. By the time I was on my third callback and everyone else had been sent home, I had a giant pit in my stomach and a growing realization that this was unlikely to be my last visit.

I’m Australian and was in St. Louis on an expatriate assignment when I was diagnosed. I was also single at the time and was certain that I’d go home to be with my family for treatment—right up until my first appointment with my surgeon, Dr. Tim Eberline. I owe him my life. He made it clear that I’d been lucky enough to find my tumor early, and that Siteman was one of the best cancer research hospitals on the planet. I realized immediately that I had the opportunity to receive coordinated, world-class care with incredible doctors, nurses and support staff, just two miles from my apartment.

Surgery was followed by chemo and then radiation. During every stage of treatment, I felt valued, supported and in the best possible hands. I would never say that I was lucky to have cancer but I was incredibly lucky to be treated at Siteman. I moved back to Australia six months after treatment ended and managed to stay away for three years before moving back to St. Louis for good in 2018. It had become home and the months I spent at Siteman had an awful lot to do with that. I now have a beautiful husband and two amazing sons. Every time I drive past the Center for Advanced Medicine I think about how rich and full my life is now and how close I came to losing it. I wouldn't be here today without Siteman and I owe it a debt of gratitude that I will never be able to repay.