You’re allowed to seek a second opinion.

From the Sunday Self-Care Chronicles | 1/18/26

This week’s issue takes a look at an often overlooked and underutilized but powerful part of navigating health care, especially in cancer treatment and survivorship: second opinions.

This week’s issue touches on:
✨ My personal experiences with seeking second opinions in health care, including cancer survivorship
✨ Common but critical information that can be missed when only talking to one provider
✨ Why seeking additional perspectives isn’t about distrust, it’s about clarity, agency, and finding the right fit

Read the full email below - and if something speaks to you please feel free to comment, share, or reach out!

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Hey there, friend.

I’m a little late showing up again this week as I’m trying to take my own advice and let this be a season of rest and ease.

I needed a bit more of that this weekend because on Friday I had a sleep endoscopy. The sedation was mild, but it really took it out of me.

Thankfully, everything is fine. 

This is part of a proactive process to better understand what’s causing the severe obstructive sleep apnea I’ve lived with most of my life. I’ve found an incredible team exploring surgical implant alternatives to traditional CPAP therapy, and this test was the first step in seeing whether I might be a candidate.

While it’s never fun to spend time in a hospital gown with an IV in your hand, the care I’ve received through this process inspired what I want to talk about this week:

the importance of second opinions.

I was officially diagnosed with sleep apnea in late 2022. And while I was relieved to finally be taken seriously (I’d been asking for help for years but was often dismissed because I was young and not overweight), my care never felt particularly good.

From the beginning I experienced a frustrating side effect. I tried all of tips and tricks suggested online, but no one on my medical team offered alternatives — or even hope.

My primary had ordered the studies and issued the CPAP and settings, but when I needed help adjusting them, I was told she couldn’t — that fell under “sleep medicine.”

So I had to ask for a referral. Sigh.

Eventually, I asked about a surgical implant I’d heard about and was quickly told it had poor efficacy and wasn’t recommended.

But when I mentioned (disappointedly) that I’d hoped to at least learn more — especially since there was a specialized team in Rochester — the PA immediately did a 180:

“Oh no, we’d do that here! If I were going to recommend it, you’d be a good candidate. We can get that set up right now.”

That moment told me everything I needed to know. 

I needed a second opinion — from a practice that specialized in what I was seeking.

Enter my recent experience with the University of Rochester sleep medicine clinic, which has been night and day different.

I don’t yet know what my options will be. I may still need CPAP. 

But regardless, I’ll be continuing my care with this team because they listened to me, treated me like a partner, and didn’t railroad me based on what worked best for their system.

And I see this same dynamic play out in my work all the time.

With a new cancer diagnosis, many people don’t feel like they have the luxury of seeking second or third opinions.

Time feels urgent.
Options feel limited.
The pressure to “just get started” is intense.

Even later, I’ll see people unhappy with surgical outcomes — but only discussing revisions with the same surgeonwho left them unhappy in the first place.

Others feel dismissed or unheard but don’t realize that especially in survivorship, when things slow down, they have the power to change their team.

In a perfect world, choosing your cancer care team would be a two-way interview.

Meeting more than one surgeon or oncologist isn’t just about outcomes — it’s about helping you feel more grounded and in control in a nearly uncontrollable situation.

When people don’t seek additional opinions, they can miss critical information.

A common problem is not knowing all the surgical options available because certain procedures aren’t offered at every hospital and most practices don't refer out because it's not good for business.

This could look like never learning about advanced reconstruction options like DIEP or TUG flaps because no one on staff specializes in these microvascular tissue transfers.

Or another common problem is people being discouraged from flat closure consultations with plastic surgeons.They might not be told the difference between what a breast surgeon alone can provide and aesthetic flat closure with a plastic surgeon because of understaffing and over scheduling. 

I’ve seen many people end up needing revisions they never wanted — simply because they didn’t know there was another way from the start.

This is why, in the early years of survivorship, I’m especially encouraging of second opinions if there’s anyhesitation around care.

Revisions often aren’t advised for 6–12 months anyway — which makes that window a powerful time to explore options.

And here’s what usually happens when people do:

Either they receive confirmation that reassures them they’re on the right path — or they learn something new that helps them make a more informed choice.

Both outcomes matter.

I’m most adamant about this when it comes to metastatic breast cancer.

Whether diagnosed de novo or through recurrence, MBC treatment is fast-evolving. 

Multiple opinions can be the difference between standard-of-care approaches — and access to trials, new therapies, surgical options, or even curative-intent care that isn’t universally offered.

And I do know there’s privilege involved here.

Second opinions can require time, money, travel, and support.

But whenever possible, I believe seeking care that isn’t just the default — but the best fit — is a powerful part of healing.

I did this myself several years into survivorship.

While I received good care during treatment in 2017, over time my doctors left, systems shifted, and I found myself falling through the cracks. 

I researched, asked questions, and eventually built a new care team.

Since then, I’ve expanded it thoughtfully. And if things change again, I won’t hesitate to seek new opinions.

My friend April from Wildfire Journal and Writing Community often talks about “main character energy.”

I think that energy belongs in how we navigate our health care, too.

You are allowed to pause.
You are allowed to ask.
You are allowed to want more information.

This is what it means to be the most important person on your care team.

Because at the end of the day, your care isn’t just about protocols and outcomes.

It’s about how safe, heard, and supported you feel along the way.

And remember, I'm always in your corner because I'm always in this with you.

P.S. If this idea of being an active participant on your care team resonates, you’ll see it woven throughout my upcoming breast cancer self-care “starter kit.” It’s designed to help you orient yourself, understand your options, and reconnect with your body — without urgency or overwhelm.

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