Donation protected
Join us in supporting our friend and loved one, Justin Leach and family. He is having his stomach removed in the fight against cancer. Here is his story in his own words:
"I want to share a part of my life with you — those of you whom I may not know; you whom I may not cross paths as often as I would like; and you whom I interact with often. As a fitness coach, I get to teach, motivate, and empower people to lead healthier lives, reach their goals, and overcome obstacles that are holding them back — something that I truly love deep down in my heart. People in my profession are supposed to be mentally and physically strong, which is one of the reasons this journey has been difficult. I have found myself in a fight that requires much more from me than I could ever imagine.
The past couple of years have been filled with the highest of highs and also some very low lows. Through all of this I am thankful; I’m thankful for life and for my family (wife - Jamie, daughter - Kennedy, and son - Asher) — my kids are the joy of my life. I am thankful for good friends, my job, and my clients, who also inspire me.
My Father’s last gift to me
They didn’t catch my dad's cancer in time, and it was extremely unlikely that anyone could have. He had a very rare form of the stomach cancer that doesn’t create tumors but instead diffuses into the body. The cancer eluded his primary care physician and a team of specialists until it was too late; by the time he received a diagnosis, he was in stage four with five months to live. Along the way, we found out that the cause of his cancer was an inherited genetic mutation in the CDH1 gene. Anyone who inherits this mutation receives a diagnosis of hereditary diffuse gastric cancer syndrome, which carries with it a 70–80% chance of developing gastric cancer. Both my brother and I were tested for the mutation, and our results came back positive. The day after receiving these results, my wife, Jamie, and I found out we were expecting our second child. I prayed that God would give me a daughter, and nine months later our healthy baby girl, Kennedy Quinn blessed our lives.
The knowledge of the CDH1 mutation in our family, while too late to help my father (who passed away on August 29th, 2018), likely saved the lives of my brother and me, as well as our children. I have my dad to thank for this when he opted to move forward with genetic testing during his diagnosis and treatment.
A Fork in the Road
There are only two options for someone diagnosed with this condition: move forward with a prophylactic total gastrectomy (full stomach removal) or take part in yearly surveillance biopsies at the National Institutes of Health.
I opted to move forward with the surveillance method because my father had just passed, and we were expecting our second child.
The first round of biopsies was negative, I thanked God for that. A little over a year later I underwent a second round of biopsies, and this time they found signet ring-cell adenocarcinoma cells — exactly what I was hoping not to hear, but at the same time, it confirmed for me beyond a doubt that the total gastrectomy was the only way to prevent the full-blown cancer which took my father. Though the prospect of learning to live without a stomach is daunting, I am grateful that I’ve been given this choice and the fighting chance that my father never had. And that’s what I’m choosing to do: fight. It’s how my father raised me, and he wouldn’t expect any less. As his primary caretaker at the end, I saw firsthand how hard he fought to remain with us, even when time was running out.
Choosing Life (Without a Stomach)
A total gastrectomy is the gold standard recommended by clinicians because, together with the high risk of developing cancer, the survival rate for this type of cancer is very low (seventy-one percent of those diagnosed don’t survive past the five-year mark). In addition, there are literally billions of cells in the stomach, which makes finding those cells affected by this sneaky form of cancer nearly impossible.
I’m doing this for my children because I want to see them grow up and experience the world, and I want to make sure that I can be around to teach them and help them grow throughout their lives. I am also doing this for my dad and seizing the chance that he was never given. My surgery is scheduled for March 12th at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. There, over the course of three hours, doctors will remove my stomach laparoscopically and connect my esophagus directly to my small intestine. They have recommended that I take eight weeks off of work to acclimate to my new normal. Many people may wonder, “Hmm ..can you live without a stomach?” and the answer is, yes! I will have to adjust some things, like my nutritional balance and how quickly I eat but the medical team and fellow survivors reassure me that I can lead a happy, active life once I acclimate to these changes.
A very important part of this entire process was being able to grieve, cope, understand, and process all of this. It is still the most challenging aspect of what I’m going through on a daily basis. Without my spiritual beliefs, the people close to me, and the support of others in the CDH1 community, I could not have had the strength and courage it takes to move forward with this surgery. [Those of you I speak of you know who you are. It’s true what they say though, you find out who your true friends are in the toughest of battles and the darkest of times.] Thank you for those of you that have been by my side and brought me back into the light when I needed it. It means the world to me, and I’ll never know quite how to repay all of you. Being courageous is looking fear in the face and pressing forward without seeing the end of the fight. I’m choosing courage.
I hope that my story has helped educate others and spread awareness about the CDH1 gene mutation and hereditary diffuse gastric cancer — please feel free to share! Even if you cannot donate, it would mean the world to me if you could join me in praying/hoping/sending good vibes and encouragement that the surgery and recovery will go smoothly and without complications."
What will the funding be used for?
The funds raised through your generosity will go toward medical bills, travel expenses to/from the Mayo Clinic, near-hospital accommodation for the first few days after discharge, helping Justin's family with living expenses and bills during his two-month recovery period (He will not have any income during my time off), and potentially some things around the house that he may need to help adapt to this new way of life, e.g. the doctors recommend adjusting his sleeping position to help prevent acid reflux and a new blender ... smoothies will be his go-to for a while.
For more information on my condition please check out the links below:
https://www.nostomachforcancer.org/about/hereditary-diffuse-gastric-cancer
https://www.nostomachforcancer.org/about/life-without-a-stomach
"I want to share a part of my life with you — those of you whom I may not know; you whom I may not cross paths as often as I would like; and you whom I interact with often. As a fitness coach, I get to teach, motivate, and empower people to lead healthier lives, reach their goals, and overcome obstacles that are holding them back — something that I truly love deep down in my heart. People in my profession are supposed to be mentally and physically strong, which is one of the reasons this journey has been difficult. I have found myself in a fight that requires much more from me than I could ever imagine.
The past couple of years have been filled with the highest of highs and also some very low lows. Through all of this I am thankful; I’m thankful for life and for my family (wife - Jamie, daughter - Kennedy, and son - Asher) — my kids are the joy of my life. I am thankful for good friends, my job, and my clients, who also inspire me.
My Father’s last gift to me
They didn’t catch my dad's cancer in time, and it was extremely unlikely that anyone could have. He had a very rare form of the stomach cancer that doesn’t create tumors but instead diffuses into the body. The cancer eluded his primary care physician and a team of specialists until it was too late; by the time he received a diagnosis, he was in stage four with five months to live. Along the way, we found out that the cause of his cancer was an inherited genetic mutation in the CDH1 gene. Anyone who inherits this mutation receives a diagnosis of hereditary diffuse gastric cancer syndrome, which carries with it a 70–80% chance of developing gastric cancer. Both my brother and I were tested for the mutation, and our results came back positive. The day after receiving these results, my wife, Jamie, and I found out we were expecting our second child. I prayed that God would give me a daughter, and nine months later our healthy baby girl, Kennedy Quinn blessed our lives.
The knowledge of the CDH1 mutation in our family, while too late to help my father (who passed away on August 29th, 2018), likely saved the lives of my brother and me, as well as our children. I have my dad to thank for this when he opted to move forward with genetic testing during his diagnosis and treatment.
A Fork in the Road
There are only two options for someone diagnosed with this condition: move forward with a prophylactic total gastrectomy (full stomach removal) or take part in yearly surveillance biopsies at the National Institutes of Health.
I opted to move forward with the surveillance method because my father had just passed, and we were expecting our second child.
The first round of biopsies was negative, I thanked God for that. A little over a year later I underwent a second round of biopsies, and this time they found signet ring-cell adenocarcinoma cells — exactly what I was hoping not to hear, but at the same time, it confirmed for me beyond a doubt that the total gastrectomy was the only way to prevent the full-blown cancer which took my father. Though the prospect of learning to live without a stomach is daunting, I am grateful that I’ve been given this choice and the fighting chance that my father never had. And that’s what I’m choosing to do: fight. It’s how my father raised me, and he wouldn’t expect any less. As his primary caretaker at the end, I saw firsthand how hard he fought to remain with us, even when time was running out.
Choosing Life (Without a Stomach)
A total gastrectomy is the gold standard recommended by clinicians because, together with the high risk of developing cancer, the survival rate for this type of cancer is very low (seventy-one percent of those diagnosed don’t survive past the five-year mark). In addition, there are literally billions of cells in the stomach, which makes finding those cells affected by this sneaky form of cancer nearly impossible.
I’m doing this for my children because I want to see them grow up and experience the world, and I want to make sure that I can be around to teach them and help them grow throughout their lives. I am also doing this for my dad and seizing the chance that he was never given. My surgery is scheduled for March 12th at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. There, over the course of three hours, doctors will remove my stomach laparoscopically and connect my esophagus directly to my small intestine. They have recommended that I take eight weeks off of work to acclimate to my new normal. Many people may wonder, “Hmm ..can you live without a stomach?” and the answer is, yes! I will have to adjust some things, like my nutritional balance and how quickly I eat but the medical team and fellow survivors reassure me that I can lead a happy, active life once I acclimate to these changes.
A very important part of this entire process was being able to grieve, cope, understand, and process all of this. It is still the most challenging aspect of what I’m going through on a daily basis. Without my spiritual beliefs, the people close to me, and the support of others in the CDH1 community, I could not have had the strength and courage it takes to move forward with this surgery. [Those of you I speak of you know who you are. It’s true what they say though, you find out who your true friends are in the toughest of battles and the darkest of times.] Thank you for those of you that have been by my side and brought me back into the light when I needed it. It means the world to me, and I’ll never know quite how to repay all of you. Being courageous is looking fear in the face and pressing forward without seeing the end of the fight. I’m choosing courage.
I hope that my story has helped educate others and spread awareness about the CDH1 gene mutation and hereditary diffuse gastric cancer — please feel free to share! Even if you cannot donate, it would mean the world to me if you could join me in praying/hoping/sending good vibes and encouragement that the surgery and recovery will go smoothly and without complications."
What will the funding be used for?
The funds raised through your generosity will go toward medical bills, travel expenses to/from the Mayo Clinic, near-hospital accommodation for the first few days after discharge, helping Justin's family with living expenses and bills during his two-month recovery period (He will not have any income during my time off), and potentially some things around the house that he may need to help adapt to this new way of life, e.g. the doctors recommend adjusting his sleeping position to help prevent acid reflux and a new blender ... smoothies will be his go-to for a while.
For more information on my condition please check out the links below:
https://www.nostomachforcancer.org/about/hereditary-diffuse-gastric-cancer
https://www.nostomachforcancer.org/about/life-without-a-stomach
Co-organizers (3)
Danyel Scharff
Organizer
Racine, WI
Justin Leach
Beneficiary
Todd Leach
Co-organizer