Lumps & Humps - The Audio Files

One year ago, on what would have been my eleventh wedding anniversary, I did my first cold plunge. I was going to do it once, for bragging rights. But I returned. In that water I started to learn how to sit with discomfort, stop fighting myself, and trust that I was safe—even when every part of me wanted out.

Six months later, I would need that lesson more than I ever could have imagined.

Hospitals, superheroes, cancer, and more cancer.

How can I have been diagnosed with Stage III rectal cancer—but have Stage I pathology after surgery?

In this episode, I explain the difference between clinical and post-treatment pathologic staging, what cT3N1M0 and ypT2N0 actually mean, and how both can be true at the same time.

What it showed, what's the plan, how I'm feeling.

One week after my Lower Anterior Resection (LAR) surgery, I'm home recovering.

In this episode, I share what surgery was actually like: the da Vinci robot, waking up to learn I didn't need an ostomy, what they removed, the unexpected pain that turned out to be a surgical drain, and the incredible all-women surgical team that helped save my life.

I also talk about my pathology report, my first week of recovery, and what life looks like now as I learn to live without a rectum.

Three weeks. One surgery wrapped up. Another begins.

In this update I talk about finishing breast reconstruction rehab, pausing Herceptin, chemo hair loss, hot flashes, my final preparations for tomorrow's low anterior resection (LAR), and the strange reality of standing on the edge of the biggest surgery and what may be the biggest milestone yet: once this part is over, there won't be a tumor in my body.

I'm hopeful. I'm terrified. Both are true.

What does it mean to reconstruct a body? And what does it mean to reconstruct a relationship with that body?

After a mastectomy, a tattoo, a boudoir photoshoot, and a trip to Montana, I found myself learning how to touch, see, and inhabit my body in entirely new ways. This episode is about grief, beauty, sexuality, courage, and one quiet realization that changed how I see myself.

On Choice

My plastic surgeon said something at my last post-op appointment that completely stopped me in my tracks:

"If I see you again, it'll be by choice."

After more than seven months of pathology reports, surgeries, chemotherapy, and appointments dictated by cancer, I realized I'd been handed something I hadn't had in a very long time: agency.

This episode is about trauma, choice, and a brief moment when life could become mine again.

My biggest surgery yet is just days away.

In this episode, I share what a Lower Anterior Resection (LAR) is, why it scares me, and how I'm trying to balance preparation with surrender as I face another life-changing chapter of cancer treatment.

On strangers going through it, putting on a bra after reconstruction, salads, and adaptability.

On the eve of my first cancer surgery, I skip the Super Bowl and follow a quiet pull to hear a group of Buddhist monks on their Walk for Peace. The year before, after divorce, heartbreak, and a visit to the Garden of 1,000 Buddhas in Montana, one unexpected realization changes the way I think about purpose, love, and what it means to keep living.

This week: MRI news, a successful implant surgery, and a clear path to my next surgery on July 28.

But behind the scenes: a positive Signatera result, unexpected stomach pain, and some of the hardest mental health days of this journey that have reminded me healing isn't linear—and that acceptance is something we have to practice over and over again.

The night before surgery, I learned a friend had died from an overdose.

The next day, I woke up in recovery and was offered fentanyl and oxycodone for my pain.

This is a story about a man who dedicated his life to helping others recover, the day I drove two hours to help him after a relapse, and why I believe addiction deserves the same compassion we so readily extend to illnesses like cancer.

In this update: a surprise return of rectal cancer symptoms, an emergency visit with my colorectal surgeon, and the MRI everyone seems to be waiting on. I share my first Herceptin-only infusion, the joys of hot flashes and possible chemo-induced menopause, pre-op appointments for my implant swap surgery, hair loss, acupuncture, and a question I can't stop asking:

Why is the universe testing me like this?

We also talk about receiving uncertainty, receiving love, and why I'm looking forward to the rearview mirror even more than the MRI.

A friend once suggested there’s a place even further left on the spectrum than surviving.

I thought I understood what he meant.

Then came divorce. Cancer. Chemotherapy. Grief.

In this episode, I share what happened when my body finally stepped out of survival mode—and all the things I had been too busy surviving to feel came rushing in.

Sometimes making it through the day is too much.

Sometimes the goal is just making it to the next breath.

Chemo set one, complete.

Now it’s time for the next block.

This episode is about surviving cancer one day at a time, breaking impossible things into manageable pieces, and borrowing a mindset from the human-performance world to stay psychologically afloat through dual-cancer treatment.

How do you tell people the worst news of your life?

This episode is about cancer, crisis communications, spreadsheets, trauma, strategic messaging plans, and the strange things we cling to when our lives explode. Also: audience segmentation, Instagram rollout strategy, and why being a former communications professional turned out to be unexpectedly useful during a dual cancer diagnosis.

Charlottesville. Quantum theory. First love. Trenches. French fries. Rainstorms and reiki.
A story about strange timing, parallel lives, and the people who arrive exactly when you need them—even if you don’t understand why yet.

Chemo by the numbers: bloodwork trends, step counts, hydration, iron infusions, weight gain, and what happens when survival starts looking like data points on a graph.

On runny noses, new friends, and gallows humor.

This week on Why Alli Has Cancer: organized crime, environmental toxins, chicken cancer, the Chesapeake Bay, and a topless conversation with my plastic surgeon while she inflated my fake boob with saline.

Round five of chemo. A piece about mindset, mental health, finding a “why,” cold plunges, cancer rituals, the language we use to survive, and how sometimes you never know what you’re training for.

Healthcare Bullshit returns for another episode.

This week:
My insurance provider announced they’re leaving the Virginia Marketplace while I’m still in active cancer treatment, my colorectal surgeon abruptly stopped practicing, and I had to learn—again—how much of surviving cancer is also surviving the American healthcare system.

Also featuring:
my incredible care team,
a very good social worker,
an emotional collapse,

and Chat GPTreminding me I do not, in fact, need to solve 2027 today.

I used to know how to find the answer.

Then somewhere along the way, I stopped knowing what I wanted.

This is a story about driving, houses, and what happens when you don’t know what you want—but keep going anyway.

On day one of chemo, I was handed a hazmat kit to take home.

Literally.

This episode walks through what it means to be trained to clean up chemotherapy spills—on clothes, on floors, on your own skin—while slowly realizing where that same poison is actually going.

Back half. Chemo Part One.

Things are getting harder—physically, mentally, all of it. This episode is about uncertainty, the grind, and trying to plan a life when you have no idea how you’ll feel from one day to the next.

Also: a potential escape window—and a care team that understands quality of life matters, too.

Two unexpected questions from my oncologist—about acne medication and long-distance running—send me down a research rabbit hole. This episode explores potential risk factors for colorectal cancer in younger, healthy populations—and why “too young” and “too fit” might not mean what we think.

Eight firefighters. One paramedic. And me, saying “I’m fine.” This is the story of the night my body said otherwise—and the beginning of learning how to let people help.

Chemo, labs, food, movement, and a mountain escape. No big breakthroughs—just steady progress and the work of doing everything possible to rebuild before the next knockdown.

Two cancers, a history of anxiety and depression, and a brain that won’t sit still. This is what the dark days actually sound like—and what it takes to make it through them, one thought, one hour, one day at a time.

On anniversaries, oysters, and getting dressed.

When everything falls apart, where do you go? This is a story about leaving, the ocean that taught me how to survive, and the moment I stopped running long enough to hear something deeper.

A week of small but meaningful progress: adding real food back in, reclaiming movement, and facing a hard decision about my body. This episode is about healing, identity, and what it means to move forward—1% at a time.

Why do I have cancer? New theory: my dog gave me cancer so I’d stay home and pet him more. It’s airtight logic… until you factor in all appointments. This episode continues the series with a highly questionable—but emotionally compelling and slightly unhinged—case against a very sweet, very suspicious, very good boy.

Nausea: controlled. Fatigue: next level. Real food: back. This is chemo week two—more data, more adjustments, and learning how to fight smarter.

On chemo pumps, prescription meds, and a rapidly declining tolerance for bullshit.

A “peanut butter and jelly” at 3:45am, a body that’s starving, and a complete rewrite of what nutrition means. This episode is about breaking every rule you’ve ever followed around food—and accepting that right now, the goal isn’t to feel good. It’s to survive.

Fascia, scar tissue, and the most boring exercises that matter the most. This episode is about surgical rehab, why starting early changes everything, and what it really looks like to get 1% better when your body feels completely wrecked.

“But you’re so young—why do you have cancer?”
It’s the question everyone asks—and one that doesn’t have a satisfying answer. This episode kicks off a new series exploring the theories, the data, the conspiracy theories, and the uncomfortable truth: sometimes, it’s just bad luck.

Everyone has a plan until you get punched in the face. This episode walks through my first week of chemo—seven-hour infusions, rookie mistakes, nausea that took me out, and the moment I realized: this is the battlefield now.

On ports, toddler diets, and feeling 7/10.

A song in the operating room. A text sent from recovery. And the story of an unlikely friend who made it possible to believe—if only for a moment—that everything was going to be okay.

What actually happens on chemo day—and what can go wrong. From infusion logistics to side effects (hello, cold sensitivity and neuropathy), this episode breaks down the reality of Herceptin + FOLFOX, risk mitigation, and what it means to be very prepared for something you can’t fully control.

Part education, part dark humor, and part surrender to the unknown.

I didn’t get the job.
After years of leading, building, fundraising, and surviving high-stakes chaos.
This episode is about corporate-feeling interviews, missed opportunities, and the darkly funny realization that I’m currently managing the biggest “project” of my life: two cancers. At the same time.

My symptoms got worse this week—the worst they’ve been. More blood loss, more pain, more fatigue. A tumor making itself known.

At the same time: a chemo port, an expander fill, anemia, a diet I hate, and the ongoing reality of two cancers actively working against each other in my body.

This episode is about what it looks like when “health gets in the way of health,” when every solution creates a new problem, and when you’re forced to hold two truths at once: this is temporary… and this fucking sucks.

On budgets, lease renewals, and going bra-free.

Two cancers. One treatment plan.

This episode walks through how a Stage 1 HER2+ breast cancer and a Stage 3 rectal cancer get treated at the same time—mastectomy, lymph nodes, chemo “cocktails,” and the logistics of coordinating two oncology teams into one plan.

It’s part medical breakdown, part real-time processing—and a look at what it means to navigate survival when every decision is layered, complex, and very, very personal.

Surgical drain removal day. Relief, grief—and the first small step forward.

The importance of routine screening, knowing your body, and advocating for yourself.

A poem about living.