It’s the same room: the Martha’s Vineyard Hospital emergency room, almost two years later.
It’s the same room: the Martha’s Vineyard Hospital emergency room, almost two years later. Last winter I wrote an op-ed about my stage 4 metastatic lung cancer diagnosis and the extraordinary support I received from my Island community.
A word of advice, if you ever find yourself in that position, don’t Google it or ask AI. With no treatable genetic mutations, my prognosis was grim — a median survival of 15 months and an 11 per cent chance at surviving five years. I was 58, enjoying the breath of each morning and every bit of life.
With guidance from local friends, I found world-class care close to home at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. There I began chemotherapy, immunotherapy and radiation to my hip, back, adrenal glands and brain.
In the midst of my own struggle, this past April we buried my father and sister, who each died from lung cancer just three days apart. He was 89 and she was 57. I helped them as best I could, but I never had the courage to tell my father about my own illness.
Back on Island, we created a remarkable cooperative treatment plan between Martha’s Vineyard Hospital (MVH) and Dana-Farber, allowing me to receive most of my infusions right here. After my 25th treatment, Barbara Rush, head of the MVH Center, told me I was an outlier — she never had a patient who received so many treatments on this chemo regimen. Still, there would be no “chemo bell” for me; my cancer is terminal.
But Barbara and her MVH Infusion Center colleagues — Sam Cron, Jenna Coutinho and Carleigh Frazier and others — have kept me steady, hopeful and alive. It is the best compassionate health care you can receive anywhere — the gold standard. After seeking out the best in the country, I found that my dream medical team was already here: Barbara Rush, lead nurse practitioner of the MVH infusion center, Aubrey Ryan, physician assistant, and radiographer Erica Maloney.
Then in August, I began feeling pressure in my legs, not quite pain, but something that felt like a tightening vise. Barbara suggested scans if it persisted. By September, the pain became unmanageable. Aubrey guided me through several ER visits and managed to get my severe pain under control. She also called down to radiology and ordered an urgent spinal MRI. When Erica saw me the next morning, she saw that I was scheduled for a brain MRI in Boston. She was able to quickly get the necessary approvals, speak to my Boston team and get all my scans done. This saved me a day of travel, with a quicker diagnosis and it changed everything.
The results led to further testing, and finally a spinal tap confirmed the new diagnosis: Leptomeningeal Disease, cancer that spreads to the spinal fluid and brain. It occurs in only about five per cent of cases like mine and is often missed unless someone insists on testing. Barbara ordered it, Aubrey monitored it, and Erica caught it. Because of them, I’m still here to write this. They deserve statues outside Martha’s Vineyard Hospital.
The new prognosis was blunt — two to three months to live. There are no machines in New England, but with proton radiation therapy, if I could access treatment on a $200 million machine at NYU Langone, I might have 11 months. I was able to get into Langone, and just finished 10 treatments over two weeks. Even though the treatment was aggressive and caused fatigue, nausea and poses cognitive risk, I was one of the lucky ones. As little as 16 months ago, people with my disease had no chance of survival.
You see, I’ve got plans. I want to see my children marry and maybe have kids, and fall even deeper in love with my wife of more than 31 years. Nancy and I have been together since we were 18 years old. Plus, I want the chance to know Aubrey’s and Erica’s kids better!
In the time it’s taken me to write this, my optimism has only grown because even now there are new advancements in the treatment of Leptomeningeal Disease. My goal is simple — to set a Guinness record for both the quality and quantity of whatever time remains.
When you go through a serious health crisis, you realize that medicine can treat the illness, but community heals the person. I learned that from my first cancer diagnosis at age 22 of Hodgkin’s Disease. At the time, I thought the “doctor” would just fix me. But a friend and client, Jeff Blatnick, a gold medalist in Wrestling at the 1984 LA Olympics who was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma set me straight. He said: “It’s all about your attitude, to be resilient and keep bouncing back from negative outcomes.”
I’ve taken that advice to heart, not only in navigating my health care, but in living my life.
Over the past two years, through my second and now third cancer journey, I’ve seen the best of what a small community can offer. On Martha’s Vineyard, healthcare isn’t just about hospitals, doctors or appointments — it’s about people who show up, repeatedly with kindness, empathy and strength. It’s the neighbor who drops off soup, the people who insist on you staying in their apartments in Boston or New York for treatment, and the nurse who checks in, not just on your vitals, but on your spirit.
At the Martha’s Vineyard Hospital and across the Island, I’ve experienced care that goes beyond medicine. There’s a compassion that can’t be measured — a look in someone’s eyes that says, you’re not alone in this. A hug at the post office. And that, more than anything, gives you the courage to keep going.
Despite everything, I find I am profoundly grateful these days. For the medical teams who care with such skill and heart. For the friends who check in without fail. For a community that shows what it means to truly look after one another. For the web of care that stretches far beyond the walls of any hospital.
In the end, the story of my treatment isn’t just about medicine. It’s about a community that heals together — an Island that turns compassion into action, and care into hope.
Jay Grossman is an NHL sports agent and lives in Chilmark.
Comments
Jay, thank you for sharing
Nelson Sigelman Vineyard HavenJay, thank you for sharing your story and highlighting the team at the Martha's Vineyard Hospital Cancer Center. The sign in front of the nurse's station, “In this clinic, no one fights alone,” is reaffirmed every day. I wish you all the best in your continuing fight.
Thank you Nelson, for such
Jay Grossman ChilmarkThank you Nelson, for such kind words...The nurses and leader of the MV Infusion are miracle workers to me, as you can see...
THANK YOU NELSON?!
JAY GROSSMANTHANK YOU NELSON?!
A profile in courage and an
Harry Seymour Oak BluffsA profile in courage and an endorsement for hope in the resilience within and compassion of others.
This is absolutely beautiful,
Julia Rappaport Newton and ChilmarkThis is absolutely beautiful, Jay. My heart is with you on this journey and I'll file away for myself the lesson passed along from your friend/client Jeff. Thank you. As the granddaughter of an Island physician, however, I am not surprised by what you found here. There is no community that I've found anywhere that rivals the Vineyard's, a place that treats the body, the mind, and the soul. As someone who grew up on the Vineyard year-round and still keeps roots here, I loved recognizing in your essay the names of people I've known from childhood or young adulthood as among your care team, namely Erica, Sam, and Aubrey (whose sister I went to middle school acting camp with). It makes me so proud to be a part of this community. Best of luck, Jay.
Thank you Julie for such kind
Jay Grossman ChilmarkThank you Julie for such kind words, love to you and family!
Jay, What a beautiful, brave
Kiki and Vin AquinnahJay, What a beautiful, brave piece. Your perseverance is nothing short of remarkable, and your upbeat, hopeful way inspires all of us. Thank you for everything you and Nancy do for the up-island community, for your tireless volunteerism, and most importantly for your friendship. So good seeing you yesterday.
A brilliant piece- thank you.
Julian Wise ChilmarkA brilliant piece- thank you.
Wow, Jay, thank you for
Paula West TisburyWow, Jay, thank you for sharing your story. You are such a fighter! what a journey and lesson to be learned in resilience, respect, love and hope.
You continue to inspire me
Larry Weiss Andover MAYou continue to inspire me Jay. Big hugs from the Weiss family. We love you and I will see you at Flanders Field.
Love you Jay and Nancy. You
Phil and Lorelei West Tisbury and BostonLove you Jay and Nancy. You mean so so much to all of us.
LOVE YOU GUYS!
JayLOVE YOU GUYS!
Well here I am, sitting on my
Emily Kantoff SFWell here I am, sitting on my couch reading this and tearing up. What profoundly beautiful words, Jay. Thank you for sharing so honestly and openly. I hope you never underestimate the impact you have on people. The whole island is holding you in our hearts and hoping for the best for you. You are truly in the business of memory making; and we’re all just hoping for more and more for you. With so much love to you and the family.
Jay, I have known you through
Paul Iantosca. Chilmark- NeedhamJay, I have known you through Chilmark Softball . I always respected you as a high Powered draft agent who was really just a down to earth friendly and kind fellow ball player .
I ve met you on the Ferry , at the Pediatrist and in restaurants with your family . Not once did you brush me off , in fact, you went out of your way to converse with me and be so warm . I was each time left with a special feeling.
I am very sorry for your cancer, but I want you to know that you are tough as nails and kind.
We are all going to pray for you and hope that God gives you those extra years so that you can fulfill your life as stated .
You are going to see your children married .
Strong and positive attitude does heal and bring you peace and happiness.
Stay strong buddy , I know you are …. You need to win this battle for your family and friends ..
Such a kind article..
“love ya bud,”
Paul Iantosca
Jay, you have been backing me
Hans Solmssen Summit, New JerseyJay, you have been backing me up at third base and shortstop for I don’t know how many years. You play softball like you live your life; with determination and kindness.
What a wonderful piece of writing, making all of us take a moment and reaffirm how lucky we are. Your comments about our amazing Hospital mirror my experience, happily not as serious and life threatening as yours.
Sally and I wish you the very best in your continuing journey, with every hope for a positive outcome. And I expect to see you next season at Flander’s Field. Stay strong!!! Hans
Brave and beautiful. May you
Geraldine Brooks Vineyard HavenBrave and beautiful. May you continue to beat the odds.
Jay,
Jonathan Schoenberg AquinnahJay,
Thanks for all you have brought to the community in a myriad of ways. I miss your company and so appreciate your written and spoken words. You make good words.
So much love, schoenie
What an incredible story.
Mark Zimmerman New YorkWhat an incredible story. Your resilience is legendary. Keep up the fight!
Hey Jay:
Mark J. Friedman Upr. Montclair, New JerseyHey Jay:
So much appreciated the recently read article about your medical travails, family, & perseverance. What a heart warming story! I knew that you had some “medical issues”, but did not realize the extent or seriousness of them, Jay. But as I noted from your essay, you Chilmark Softball guys with a Chappaqua lineage are tough! But rather than be too verbose, I wanted to let you know that TedS (another “tough” Chappaqua guy) & I are thinking about you & your present struggles. Since I do get up to Aquinnah periodically even in the off-season, I would enjoy getting together with you (off the ball field) for a snack at 7A, or to take over a morsel or two from the new hot spot, the Bettlebung Store.
In the meantime, hang in there, Jay. Your resilient spirit is truly inspirational to all of us. And I wouldn’t be surprised at all if I saw you at Flanders Field next spring on opening day ….
All the best moving forward —
Warm regards,
MarkF
(the “Jersey Guy”)
My husband's first
Jane Norton ChilmarkMy husband's first immunotherapy and chemo infusion happened at MVH today. He spent about 8 hours there under the watchful eye and lighthearted spirit of Carleigh Fraizer. Barbara Rush prepared us for this with an intensive education session earlier in the week, and the brilliant and kind Dr. Jeffery Barnes helped suss out just which cancer it was "this time"...luckily it is lymphoma, and not a return of his 2024 diagnosis of melanoma (Thanks, Aubrey for helping him through that one). You nailed it, Jay, with this statement: "When you go through a serious health crisis, you realize that medicine can treat the illness, but community heals the person." Best wishes for your journey.
Jay - I am missing you and
Hilary J AquinnahJay - I am missing you and your indomitable spirit, Jay. And your crappy tennis ball feeds. See you on the court soon. My love to you and Nancy. H
I had hoped to see you today
Mark Everson Denville NJI had hoped to see you today and was so glad I did, old friend. I had no idea of your battle and I know your strength and spirit will help get you to those weddings and next generations. I send love and hope. Everson
Jay, you are one of a kind.
Marissa ReichelJay, you are one of a kind. Your strength, courage, and positivity are so admirable. Matt and I miss playing tennis with you and talking smack on the courts, and are sending love.
Miss You guys!!! Summer 2026!
Jay Chilmark, MAMiss You guys!!! Summer 2026!
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