In 2022, at age 46, Debbie McGrath began her cancer “journey.” Unfathomably, she was diagnosed with three cancers.

Suffering from a bad eye infection, which sent her to her primary care doctor, it was suggested she have a colonoscopy -- “I was getting to that age.” But with no family history of colon cancer, she declined and opted for a less invasive stool test. It showed the presence of hidden blood or other biomarkers associated with colorectal cancer. At first, her doctor said they’d schedule a colonoscopy for the coming weeks, but the following day, there was urgency. She needed a colonoscopy “now.” A cancerous tumor was discovered and needed to be removed “as soon as possible.” 

“That was day one of my cancer journey.” She was diagnosed with Stage 3B colon cancer. Five days later, robotic surgery was performed. While she was recovering, a scheduled CT scan revealed she had lung cancer.

“I wasn’t even out of the parking lot of Backus Hospital when the doctor called. I don’t remember the stage; all I cared about was ‘knowing’ it metastasized, and, in my heart, I knew I had to prepare. I knew I was going to die.” But it had not metastasized: “It was a completely different cancer.” The tumor was removed at Hartford Hospital because I needed ‘urgent’ cardiac care on standby -- the tumor was “so close to my heart.” 

Moments before surgery, she was told she had a “fifty-fifty chance, and I was ok with it. My job was to get myself through this. My husband was absolutely terrified but continued to be my strongest, most encouraging supporter.” 

“The nurse was wearing a necklace that had a 444 on it. That’s an angel number, so I knew I was going to be okay.”

And she was, for a time. Then, the breast cancer diagnosis came: “It was a trickster.” 

“I blew in sideways at the last available date to get my yearly mammogram in 2023. It’s required to keep our insurance. I always had clear mammograms, so I wasn’t worried.”

After a follow-up mammogram a few weeks later, on Jan. 19, 2024, her doctor called. 

“I had breast cancer. It was my birthday weekend. I’d already had champagne. How could I have breast cancer? I was cancer-free! I was healthy as an ox.” Or so she thought. “I was, well, except for breast cancer.”

In March 2024, she underwent a double mastectomy. Her reconstruction surgery was four months later. 

Since August 2022, she’s had 11 cancer-related surgeries. She had “aggressive” chemotherapy after the lung cancer surgery. “Honestly, I know it saved my life, but I am not sure I would survive chemo again.” She’s currently on hormone therapy, “which sucks,” and has three scans a month. “I hate IV’s. I’ve been jabbed so many times, I think my veins are like a spaghetti colander.”

“Recovery is hard,” she said. Surely that’s a vast understatement for a woman who battled three cancers in less than two years.

 

 

 

Surviving it all

Before she had her lung cancer surgery, in September 2022, Debbie and her oldest and dearest friend, DeeDee, visited Hot Springs, Arkansas.

“One of the days we were there, we threw axes for over an hour, and I let out a lot of anger, anguish, fear, and laughter.”

Besides being a much-needed break from the harsh reality of cancer, that trip proved to her the value and complexities of friendships in recovery.

“On some days, I could be a terrible friend, consumed by my struggles, while on others, I could be incredibly supportive and loving,” she recalled. “This duality taught me about the ebb and flow of human connection and the importance of compassion, not just for others, but for myself as well.”

Early on in her journey, she decided to “set boundaries.” It’s her journey, and she needed to have some measure of control over it. Debbie is candid and does not hold back.

“One of the most crucial lessons was learning to set healthy boundaries, especially with family. It became clear that protecting my mental and emotional space was vital for my healing process,” she noted. “Open communication about my needs helped me foster healthier relationships and ensured that my energy was dedicated to what truly mattered.”

During all of her many recoveries, she did not want visitors, even though “I loved these people!”

“I felt and looked terrible. But when I was ready to be seen or get out of the house, I called those I wanted to see, and that was my life. Liz is going to play it down, but she was truly a hero and has been the most amazing support and the best-est friend.” 

Receiving “snail mail was a biggie.”

 

 

“My friends and family who took the time to mail me stuff to brighten my day got me through some heavy days,” she said. “The mail always arrived exactly when needed.” 

And through it all, her husband, Casey, was the “strongest person … love isn’t a big enough word for what we have. He has been here for me every single day.”

A vice president of the Southeastern Connecticut Women’s Network, she said her colleagues have been “rock stars of support.” 

These days, she said she’s “doing really well.”

“I eat way more vegetables and drink less. I have a protein drink every day, and drink enough water to swim away in. I walk every day, sometimes short walks, but I try to do at least four to five miles a day. I started taking a yoga class and I go every Tuesday. Music has also been very healing.”

Debbie loves beach walks, reading, attending shows at the Garde Arts Center, spending Sundays with her husband, and chatting and taking drives with her brother, Larry. 

“As I continue to share my story, it becomes painfully clear that the true survivors are not always the ones who wear the labels of ‘patient’ or ‘fighter.’ No, the real survivors are often the friends and family who stand steadfastly by our sides, bearing the weight of our struggles as though they were their own,” she shared in a social media post. “These incredible souls witness our battles from a front-row seat—navigating the fallout of cancer, our emotional lows, the sadness that can envelop us like a thick fog. In quiet moments, when the world seems too heavy to bear, they slip away to another room. There, they let their tears fall or allow anger to seep out like steam from a pressurized kettle. Yet, they never waver in their love and support; they choose to remain anchored in our storm, refusing to give up on us even when we feel lost.”

 

Lessons from her cancer journeys, advice for others

In sharing, she hopes to “offer insight, empathy, and strength to others navigating similar battles.”

“Life is precious. My Faith is strong. This journey has been filled with challenges, uncertainties, and emotional upheavals, but it has also been a profound testament to resilience, hope, and the strength of both my faith and support system. As I continue to navigate my diagnosis and treatment, I am committed to sharing my experiences with the hope of raising awareness about the unpredictable nature of cancer and encouraging others to remain vigilant in their health journeys.

My journey through cancer is one of transformation. Throughout this experience, I have experienced powerful lessons that have reshaped my understanding of strength, relationships, and my faith. I learned that I am stronger than I ever imagined. The trials I faced revealed an inner bravery that helped me confront fears and uncertainties. Each step forward became a testament to my resilience. Even in the darkest moments, I somehow had an innate strength that could guide me through.

 

 

In the face of adversity, I learned grace and patience. There were days when everything felt overwhelming, yet those were the very moments I discovered the beauty of taking a breath and taking pause. This grace allowed me to navigate challenges with a sense of dignity, both for myself and for those around me.

To those who have never walked this path, my advice is simple: do not impose your beliefs or advice on someone else’s journey. I have witnessed how well-intended comments can often miss the mark. When a cancer patient shares their experiences and confides in you, honor that trust by keeping their stories private. Especially if you promise to do so. And please, refrain from sentiments like ‘at least you get new boobs’ or comparing tragedies like, ‘it could be worse, my mom died from cancer at a younger age than you are now.’ Sadly, I still have people in my life who tell me how lucky I am to have my ‘free tummy tuck.’ Such statements may come from a place of care, but they often invalidate the pain someone is experiencing and should be avoided.

To anyone currently battling cancer, I beg of you: don’t quit. Hold onto your hope, your Faith, and your connections with loved ones. Each day presents a new opportunity to strive for the best version of yourself, no matter the circumstances.”

 

For the TBBCF 20th anniversary, ‘I am going to walk’

Debbie has been a Terri Brodeur Breast Cancer Foundation donor and volunteer. But this year, the 20th Foundation’s anniversary, “I am going to walk.” She said that “this stage of my cancer is about helping others.”

She said the TBBCF mission is an imperative, and so she created a donation page. It’s already raised more than $3,500. Debbie is a member of the well-known TBBCF Walk team, Becky’s Besties. 

“I am honored to contribute towards making a difference,” she said. “Research is the key to the cure.”

 

 

 

‘Deeply grateful’

Debbie shared that she’s “deeply grateful for those directly affected by cancer who came before me.” In particular, her aunt Debbie, who faced her breast cancer diagnosis in 2009 and sadly lost her fight eight months later.”

“My mom named me after her, and I couldn’t be more proud of that. Her journey reminds me of the fragility of life and the importance of cherishing every moment,” she said. “I recognize how fortunate I am to be alive today, thanks to the dedicated doctors, compassionate nurses, and medical staff who have supported me throughout this journey.”