Autumn Johnson Stanley is my newlywed wife. In early June of 2025 she was diagnosed with breast cancer. This is Part 1 of our story, which I’ll publish in seperate posts as her treatment progresses.
Autumn’s Cancer Journey Begins
Never in a million years did she imagine IT would happen to her. Hell, she never thought IT could happen to her.
Even when the Oncologist and Jamie, his patient liaison, delivered Autumn’s breast cancer diagnosis in a Miramar Beach area exam room, her mind had trouble processing his words, “The tests confirm you have breast cancer.”
The uncomfortable biopsy she endured on her right breast and underarm lymph nodes the previous week confirmed everything. Positive and invasive cancer in her right breast had spread to the lymph nodes under the right armpit. We wondered if the cancer cells had spread to other parts of the body. It was a lot to process. Now what?
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Autumn asked me to accompany her to her initial oncology appointment. To be candid, it’s the first time I’ve heard a physician deliver bad news. Based on prior comments from her nurse practitioner, we had a suspicion of what was to come. But maybe, just maybe, the lumps were benign. Wishful thinking played no role in today’s discussion.
The half-hour meeting generated a plethora of acronyms, with complex medical terms thrown around like a beach ball. I could see the doctor’s words bouncing off her invisible self-defense shield. “You have cancer” were the only words that penetrated through her pretty, long, blonde hair.
I was scribbling as fast as I could in a black journal, attempting to record every critical detail. My labored writing proved fruitless, as the medical reports already recorded Autumn’s new journey in vivid detail. What is HER-2, and what does it mean? Watching intently, I could tell that a million thoughts were running rampant through her artistic, creative mind..
Will I survive? What are my options? Will I need surgery? How will I tell my boys? Will I lose one or both of my breasts and “Can my chest eventually look normal? Please don’t mention the most dreaded “C” word – not cancer, but chemotherapy.
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There was no way to avoid “C” words today. The doctor stated that her initial treatment protocol would include six rounds of chemo every three weeks for an 18-week-long journey. Surgery would follow. Yet that entailed another discussion with the breast oncology surgeon later that week. Oh, and radiation might come later, too. Better clear the calendar for the next twelve months.
My hair, will I lose my hair? She didn’t verbalize the question, but I could tell what she was thinking. Probably, maybe, who knows.
Autumn Johnson is the co-owner of Shacks Art Gallery in Grayton Beach, FL. (OneSouthernMedia 2025)
Most of us know a breast cancer survivor. My good friend, Deb Van Pelt, a Nashville sommelier, survived and today lives a phenomenal life. However, knowing about or of a cancer survivor isn’t the same as receiving the news yourself. As her soon-to-be husband, I can only empathize with her. What would my role, as well as the roles of her friends and family, entail? Again, no one in her immediate influence knew the answers.
When the news was confirmed we had yet to marry. Later that evening, crying in my arms, she said that I should leave, that I didn’t deserve to go through such a major ordeal as cancer therapy. Autumn was partly correct. No one deserves to go through cancer as a patient or significant other. I told her that I wasn’t going anywhere and neither were her closest friends and family.
I did my best to offer supportive words and calmly assure her that everything would be all right. The reality is that I have no idea what I’m saying. I have zero experience with cancer treatments. Maybe my comments would comfort her. I wasn’t convinced they had. However, I was determined to support her in any manner possible. As a writer and a former politician, I felt a loss for words or at least the right words. Then I realized it wasn’t words she needed but just a long hug and a shoulder to cry on. I decided it was the right time to shut up and relish the moment.
Our Story
Autumn and I met backstage at a Topeka Live concert in Miramar Beach, FL, in early November of 2024. I was working the night as The Mavericks completed their set. Walking down the path on the way to the bus lot, I turned around and saw a petite, attractive blonde chatting with Raul Malo, the band’s lead vocalist. Probably just a groupie looking for an autograph, I thought to myself.
I didn’t know it at the time, but Autumn and Raul, along with their families, knew each other from Nashville. Autumn was asking Raul if the band might be available to play at the upcoming DwightFest, a benefit to raise funds for Dwight Ward, a popular local artist who had suffered a stroke the previous year. Unfortunately, another promoter had already booked the band on the requested date.
Regardless, Raul and Autumn caught up on each other’s families and the status of their grown kids. After several minutes, they hugged and parted ways, promising to get everyone together at some random future date.
Autumn also mentioned to Raul that she had been thinking about him during his ongoing cancer therapy. He was back on tour and appeared to be managing his treatments well. She had no clue that cancer cells were already multiplying in her own body.
DwightFest – Helping a Friend
Much work lay ahead before the early December benefit concert. Autumn was very close to Dwight, along with his two best friends, Johnny Crawford and Mike McCrary. Together, with the help of several dozen volunteers, they worked tirelessly to organize the inaugural concert.
Autumn assumed the role of merchandise chairman, in charge of selling tee shirts and various items, along with silent auction prizes. It was her artistic talent that painted the portrait of Dwight used on apparel and merchandise. Autumn and Dwight developed a special bond working together in the Artists of Gulf Place booths before the greedy (and tacky) Alvin’s Island group purchased the property and booted most of the businesses and artists.
The proceeds from DwightFest would assist underinsured or uninsured 30A artists and service workers who needed emergency medical funds. Never in a million years did Autumn think she might also become a candidate for the event’s proceeds. Besides, Autumn’s gift is giving, not taking.
The next step involved two PET scans, one to see if the cancer had spread to her head (brain) or other organs such as the lungs, liver, or bones. The thought of the cancer spreading frightens her more than anything. She mentioned not receiving chemo treatments if any cancer had spread elsewhere. All we can do now is wait.
(To be continued)