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“Cancer Doesn't Discriminate, and Neither Does Hope”
I’ve always been a person on the move. A sports fanatic, philanthropist, and community leader—I’ve been lucky enough to work with some of the best football players to ever play the game. I’m a former student athlete who started a strategic firm, and I was living my best life. I exercised daily, I didn’t smoke, and I didn’t feel sick. Combined with the fact that I had no family history of the disease, breast cancer wasn’t going to happen to me. In fact, I was more likely to get an injury from trying to still play basketball. I was healthy. I didn’t think I needed a mammogram.
Turns out, cancer doesn’t care what I think.
An Unexpected Cancer Diagnosis
After watching a friend deal with the disease, I decided to go in for a screening. When doctors confirmed that I had breast cancer, it didn’t seem possible. I was in shock. I was angry. I didn’t know what to do next. I’d never had to face anything like this before, and I felt totally unprepared.
There’s this idea that breast cancer only happens to people who are sick, or older, or have a family history. But that’s a lie. Cancer doesn’t care who you are. It doesn’t care if you’ve always been healthy or if you’ve been living your best life. It just shows up.
“Cancer doesn’t care who you are. It doesn’t care if you’ve always been healthy or if you’ve been living your best life. It just shows up.”
Now I was facing a life-changing situation. Since I’m such a people person, I’ve built friendships with my doctors, from my gynecologist to my eye doctor to my primary care physician. But I didn’t have a cancer doctor. I didn’t even know where to start.
Being a Black woman with cancer added an extra layer of complexity to my journey. I’ve always tried to surround myself with doctors who look like me, because I know how often patients of color can face disparities in care. But when I was diagnosed, I didn’t see any Black cancer doctors. That was hard. It felt like I didn’t have anyone who could truly understand my experience or my fears. I was scared that I wouldn’t get the care I needed or that my voice wouldn’t be heard the way it should.
Finding the Right Cancer Doctor
With encouragement from my sister, I decided to go to Virginia Cancer Specialists. There, I met Dr. Hueman, and he helped ease my fears. First, Dr. Hueman was a military doctor, and I grew up in a military family, so we immediately had that connection. He was upfront about the way cancer care teams work, details I hadn’t considered in my search. Ultimately, Dr. Hueman assured me that I would get the care I needed. He really seemed to understand me, and I felt like I could trust him.
I’m glad I did. The doctors and nurses at Virginia Cancer Specialists never made me feel anything but valued. They treated me like a person, not a statistic. They listened when I needed to talk, when I needed to break down, when I needed someone to understand. And even when I had doubts or fears, they didn’t look at me as just another patient—they saw me as someone who needed care and understanding. They didn’t just treat my cancer; they treated me. For that, I’ll always be grateful.
Still, I wasn’t ready to take the next steps—in fact, I still clung to the hope that they’d made a mistake with my cancer diagnosis. I had a busy schedule. I was getting ready for the Final Four, then heading to the Paris Olympics. Cancer was something I’d have to deal with when I was done in August. I couldn’t just pause my life for it.
Dr. Hueman didn’t let me off the hook. He called me and said, “April, I got a message that you’re not coming in. I don’t think you understand how cancer works. We can’t wait until August.”
And just like that, reality hit. Cancer doesn’t wait. I couldn’t push it aside anymore. I had to face it.
The Emotional Toll of Cancer Treatment
I went through a lot in the months that followed. I’ll admit, I had my breakdowns. Some days, I felt like I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t prepared for how much this diagnosis would affect me—not just physically, but emotionally. One of the hardest parts was when I found out that the treatment would potentially impact my ability to have children. I wasn’t expecting that. It was something I hadn’t even considered, and it took me a while to come to terms with.
But even in my hardest moments, I found a community of people who cared. My parents arrived from Memphis to be with me when I had surgery. Even when everything seemed to go wrong—delays, cancellations, COVID disruptions—Dr. Hueman and his team were there for me. They were kind, they were patient, and they kept reminding me that I wasn’t alone.
I’ll be honest, going to radiation was emotionally trying. To start, the other women—those little angels—were dealing with so much. Some were losing their hair, others were preparing their wills. It was a devastating time. I broke down. I didn’t want to be in that room. I didn’t want to face what was coming. But then, the nurses there saw my fear and just loved on me. They comforted me. I can’t even explain how much that helped. They didn’t just take care of me—we became friends. They talked me through the tough days, and when I couldn’t stop crying, they let me cry.
I had some trouble with the radiation, including swelling and infections. It felt like my body was fighting against me every step of the way. And part of it, honestly, was because I didn’t stop moving. I kept pushing myself, trying to keep up with my busy schedule. The nurses were always there, offering practical advice. One time, I had just finished a treatment and was on my way to my sister’s graduation in New York when the swelling in one of my breasts was terribly painful. I remembered some simple advice: cabbage. I pulled over at the next grocery store and bought cabbage leaves to put over my breast. And you know what? It worked. That moment was a bit of triumph. It was a sign that no matter how bad things seemed, I could keep going.
Quitting Cancer Treatment
There were days when I wanted to quit. There were days when the weight of it all was too much. But the team at VCS kept reminding me that I didn’t have to do it alone. They were with me every step of the way. They made sure I could work through my treatment schedule, helped with forms for my job, and gave me the time and space I needed to process it all. They became like family. And having people caring and loving on you is important. I think it was more important than them taking the cancer out because it made me feel better. I just wanted to feel better and knowing that I could go in and we could just talk meant so much to me.
I owe my life to my medical team at Virginia Cancer Specialists. When I found them, I was so sad. Everything that could go wrong went wrong, all at the same time.
But even through my hardest times, they treated me like a friend they’d known since college. It felt good. And I felt that. I’m grateful to the medical team and the caregivers for giving me so much grace. There were some days when I wasn’t so nice because I was angry at cancer. But the doctors and nurses were always kind to me, and their compassion has made me a better person.
“There were some days when I wasn’t so nice because I was angry at cancer. But the doctors and nurses were always kind to me, and their compassion has made me a better person.”
The Next Phase
Now that I’m in the follow-up phase, things feel different. I’m still adjusting to this new normal, and there’s a lot to navigate. I still need to have reconstructive surgery, which, to be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to do at first. I have so much going on—events I can’t miss, commitments I’d made. My team is working with me so I can still fulfill my responsibilities, like hosting a Hall of Fame party.
I’m grateful for the people who’ve walked with me through this. I gained some amazing friendships. I consider those ladies and gentlemen my friends. I’m honored for them to be part of my story. These kinds of situations can really bring people together, no matter the color of our skin. What you look like doesn’t matter because I saw all kinds of women during treatment, and I can tell you that cancer doesn’t discriminate. But neither does hope.
“What you look like doesn’t matter because I saw all kinds of women during treatment, and I can tell you that cancer doesn’t discriminate. But neither does hope.”
One of the things I’m passionate about now is giving back. I’ve been working on organizing fundraisers with athletes and community leaders to support cancer research and help those who are struggling financially during their treatments. We often think about medical bills when it comes to cancer, but there are so many hidden costs—taking time off work, travel for treatments, and the emotional toll. My goal is to use the platform I’ve built in my career to create awareness and raise funds for those who need it most. Whether it’s helping cover everyday expenses or supporting critical research, I want to make sure no one faces cancer alone.
Advice to Women
My biggest piece of advice to other women is simple: Just go. Get a mammogram, talk to your doctor, be proactive. Don’t put it off. Don’t wait for the perfect moment or tell yourself you’re too busy or too healthy. I was in denial, thinking cancer couldn’t happen to me because I felt fine. But cancer showed up, and I wish I hadn’t waited. Early screenings and regular check-ups—those things matter more than we realize. Take that first step. It could save your life. Don’t wait for cancer to knock on your door. Be proactive.
Just go.
