The words hit hard.
Corina Lee Harvey, a 55-year-old single mother from Indio, California, had gone to a local surgeon seeking help after learning she had colon cancer. The surgeon examined Harvey’s medical history and flatly declared, “I will not touch you, and any surgeon who does is out of his mind. It’s too dangerous.”
“I felt helpless,” recalled Harvey, “like death was at my door.”
She felt profoundly alone, having already endured a prolonged, messy divorce, a miscarriage, a threatened eviction, a years-long bout with depression, work injuries that left her disabled and earlier diagnoses of diabetes, high blood pressure, obesity and arthritis.
Things were so different now compared to her earlier years when she enjoyed a healthy, happy childhood in nearby Coachella, filled with gymnastics, track, softball, dance, rollerskating and more. “I was a tomboy,” she said. “I was never the ‘stay inside’ type.”
It was early in 2022 when Harvey began experiencing stomach bloating. Diuretic medication didn’t help, and before long, the pressure left her unable to breathe. Rushed to the hospital, Harvey discovered she had yet another serious ailment — cirrhosis, a dangerous liver disease commonly associated with excessive alcohol but in Harvey’s case caused by her excess weight.
She began a monthly routine of paracentesis: having fluid drained from her abdomen. Along the way her doctor recommended a colonoscopy (“I’d never had one before,” she said). The screening test detected four polyps. Most were benign and easily removed, but one appeared to be cancerous.
Remembering that day brings Harvey close to tears.
“I was numb, in shock, scared. I cried every day. I didn’t want to fall back into depression.”
The surgeon who refused to treat her, sadly, was being realistic. Harvey had many co-morbidities that put her in the high-risk category for any surgery. Chief among those challenges were her weight and her cirrhosis, which gave her a 25-30% chance of dying on the operating table or succumbing within 90 days of the surgery.
“With cirrhosis,” explained Andreas M. Kaiser, M.D., City of Hope® professor and chief of the Division of Colorectal Surgery, Department of Surgery, “there can be more bleeding. Also, even if the patient appears OK after surgery, the liver may not have enough capacity to recover properly, and liver failure may develop.”
Harvey returned to her own doctor, who referred her to a local oncologist. It was that physician who remembered an old friend and colleague, “And he called him at home, right in front of me,” she recalled.
Dr. Kaiser took the call. Harvey would go to City of Hope.
“I’d been there before,” she said, “when my sister was treated for lymphoma.” She liked what she’d seen. “It was friendlier, nicer, more approachable. You could ask any question and get an answer. Totally different than any other hospital.”
Indeed, Harvey had many questions, as well as high hopes that she’d hear better news than “we won’t touch you.” But her first conversation with Dr. Kaiser was difficult. She wanted someone to say, “You’re going to be OK.” Dr. Kaiser agreed to do the surgery so long as Harvey understood and accepted the risks, which were substantial. He told Harvey there was a significant possibility she might not survive the surgery. “I was willing to take the risk with her,” he said. It wasn't what she wan't to hear.
She said no. And she went home.
“I didn’t want to die on the table,” she said.
It would be more than a year before she changed her mind, prodded by her children who thought walking away was selfish, even suicidal. For her kids’ sake, she agreed to have the surgery.
But another complication loomed.
For some time, Harvey had been dealing with a vaginal bleeding problem that required several hospitalizations. She was given transfusions and had at least one embolization. None of her local doctors could say for sure if this was uterine cancer, but after one especially serious episode she was taken by ambulance to City of Hope.
“It was a very complex case, and the local hospital didn’t have the expertise to handle it,” said Ernest S. Han, M.D., Ph.D., associate professor and chief of the Division of Gynecologic Oncology, Department of Surgery. But Dr. Han had seen this before: a high-risk patient developing more than one cancer at a time. Harvey’s symptoms and her co-morbidities, especially her cirrhosis, were red flags. “My suspicion was high” for uterine cancer, he said. Harvey would need a hysterectomy followed by a biopsy to know for certain.
It’s hard to imagine the shock, the emotional gut punch for a patient, already diagnosed with one cancer, when she’s told she may have two, each requiring surgery.
“I was beside myself,” said Harvey. “I freaked out. I was bawling my eyes out.” A person of deep faith, Harvey began to pray, which, she says, brought her peace. Reassuring words from Dr. Han helped. “He was easy to speak to right off the bat. He made me feel that I was heard and seen.”
Standard procedure, he says.
“I see patients with a lot of fear,” he explained. “I do everything I can to closely listen. It’s important to get a real understanding of what they’re going through, including life factors and stresses that impact their treatment.”
Surgeries to Treat Both Cancers
Drs. Han and Kaiser plotted out a double procedure during which they would address both the colon cancer and the hysterectomy robotically. It wouldn’t be their first tandem effort: They’ve collaborated in the operating room many times before. The key to success, both say, is careful planning beforehand and constant communication throughout.
So. who goes first? Who waits? Depends on the situation.
“Sometimes the gynecologic surgeon begins,” said Dr. Kaiser, “because the uterus has grown so large that I can’t see my targets [in the colon]. More commonly, though, we start with the primary cancer.”
Harvey had the surgery in July 2024. “I went in with confidence,” she said. “No fear. I prayed for the doctors.”
Happily, everything that could have gone wrong, didn’t. The projected nine-hour procedure took only three hours to complete. Dr. Kaiser removed a couple inches of colon containing Stage 3 cancer and did a straightforward resection, with no colostomy bag needed. For safety’s sake, Harvey was prescribed oral chemotherapy for six months. “We typically recommend it in Stage 3 cases,” Dr. Kaiser said.
The hysterectomy went equally well, with the biopsy showing only a handful of Grade 1 cancer cells present. No further treatment would be needed.
Both doctors agree that Harvey came through surgery “like a champ.” They also praised her proactive attitude during recovery, getting up and walking around as soon as it was safe to do so.
Seven months later, Harvey continues to do well, with no sign of recurrence and only minor blips on the radar: a subsequent colonoscopy discovered new polyps, all benign. An infection put her back in the hospital briefly.
Mostly though, “I’m OK. I’m hopeful, glad to be alive,” she said. “Drs. Kaiser and Han saved my life.” She’ll continue to check in with them every six months, with an eye toward the all-important five-year mark, when she’ll be considered, in effect, “cured.”
In the meantime, she urges everyone to get screened for colon cancer. “Do your due diligence,” she exhorted. “Don’t wait for the doctor."