Mary Van Heukelom goes ‘Above and Beyond' to help cancer survivors
When exercising with Van Heukelom, get ready to work up a sweat.
Members in this total training class can handle it. Because even though they've survived the worst, they're being taught by the best.
'Everyone that's touched by cancer, if you say Mary Van Heukelom they know who you're talking about,' survivor Lynn Sandoval said.
'She just opened a whole of classes, a whole of opportunities for me to really feel like I could get back in shape and feel better about myself after treatment,' another survivor, Martha Gelhaus, said.
Van Heukelom has been working with cancer survivors for the past decade. Before that, she was a public school teacher.
'I consider myself still a teacher, still an educator,' Van Heukelom said. 'Now the topic is different and my audience is different.'
Iowa mom's remarkable impact on parents of kids with Down syndrome
An audience that completely changed her career path and life, all because of a transformational journey.
Back in 2011, Van Heukelom helped lead the original team of cancer survivors that went to Mount Everest Base Camp through Above and Beyond Cancer.
'I think the shift was the first time, the very first class I was able to teach and work with a group of cancer survivors,' Van Heukelom said. 'It was from day one, life-changing for me. There was a different element of energy and authenticity in that space that I had never experienced before in my life.'
After the trip, she was offered to be the program director at Above and Beyond; helping people after they survive cancer by connecting them to free fitness, nutrition, and wellness programs.
She leads some of the classes, but never expected what she did for work would become what she had to face in life.
'And it was in 2021, right after my 50th birthday, that I had my first cancer diagnosis and then a year later, my second cancer diagnosis,' Van Heukelom said. 'So, with both of those, a colon cancer and a breast cancer diagnosis, I felt that this has continue to enhance my understanding, of course, firsthand of the journey of a cancer survivor, which in turn I believe has allowed me to expand and deepen my compassion and my service to cancer survivors and the community.'
A community that's sometimes tough to be a part of, but one that's more bearable because of people like Mary Van Heukelom.
'She inspires me,' Gelhaus said. 'She makes me feel that I can do it, that I can push myself and I can achieve more than I thought I could.'
'She is my favorite person in the world. She literally saved my life,' Sandoval said. 'She's so inspirational. She's like my mom. I'm older than her and she's like my mom. She keeps me going and she's just so positive.'
Irma Ariza, a fashionista volunteer helping women Dress for Success every day
'We have our blood family and then we have our community of family, and I really believe in every person I've met as a part of my family and there are even people in this world that I haven't that that are part of the family of humanity,' Van Heukelom said. 'And so, if there's anything I can do in this space to make humanity better. That is my job.'
A job done by a mom, wife, and friend that many would say is remarkable.
'I want people to know that that I care about them,' Van Heukelom said. 'How we greet somebody matters. How we how we communicate with somebody matters. Again, it doesn't have to come with a title, a position, a role. It's about humanity and how we interact with the people around us. All matters.'
For Van Heukelom, it's just a way of living life. A gift she knows not to take for granted.
'I find it remarkable that I get to be here today. I find it remarkable that I have opportunities, and I know that I have been given opportunities that other people don't. And so that's where the remarkable is.'
Van Heukelom will head off on another transformational journey next month to Patagonia, Chile, with a team of 29 survivors and caregivers.
If you want to learn more about Above and Beyond Cancer, click here.
Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
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USA Today
4 days ago
- USA Today
Nearly half of parents with disabled kids report suicidal thoughts, but can't find help
Editor's note: This article discusses suicide and suicidal ideation. If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. Call or text 988 or chat at When Angie Scheu needs a few minutes to herself, she escapes to her back porch in Westerville, Ohio, to sit and listen to birds chirping. She gazes at her bushy basil plant in its large pot and her aging McIntosh apple tree in the yard. She tells herself her feelings of overwhelm are temporary, though she knows the chaos that comes with motherhood is part of the deal. She always wanted to be a mom. She loves her three daughters: Evelyn, 17; Sophia, 14; and her youngest, 4-year-old Rachel, who was born with Down syndrome during the COVID-19 pandemic. Scheu, 44, said she's had thoughts of suicide three times: once 30 years ago, again in 2021 and most recently in the fall of 2024. In those moments, she wondered: "Am I better off gone?" 'It usually follows a period of catastrophizing,' Sheu said. 'It usually just follows a period of feeling hopeless and helpless and just not sure what to do, and not feeling like I have any answers.' An estimated 4.3% of the U.S. population experiences suicidal thoughts, according to the CDC, but among caregivers, rates of suicidal ideation can surpass the general population. Reports of suicidal thoughts were found to be highest in parents of disabled children (42%), veterans' caregivers (23.6%) and dementia caregivers (32%). Experts have been sounding the alarm for several years, but because caregivers are focused on those they care for, they are often less likely to seek help. Among parents of disabled children who experienced suicidal thoughts and behaviors while caring, more than half (53%) had never disclosed these thoughts or experiences to anyone, according to a 2024 study. 'A lot of people who are caregivers feel guilty for feeling overwhelmed, because they feel like they should be caring for the person,' said Wendy Martinez Farmer, VP of 988 Strategy, Grants and Clinical Standards. 'But we need to normalize the conversation that these feelings that you're having, the feeling trapped and frustrated and sometimes angry, is very normal.' Scheu has never had a plan to harm herself, and said she's always been able to talk herself out of her thoughts of suicide within a day. She's only told her mom and her husband about these thoughts, but withheld details. She doesn't want her family to worry. "There's no reason for alarm," she said. In an ideal world, Scheu said she'd go back to therapy — but for now, that's not an option. Adult caregivers report worse mental health outcomes, but often 'forgo their own wellbeing' Factors that can increase the risk of suicidal ideation among caregivers include pre-existing mental health struggles that are exacerbated by high care burdens, exhaustion, social isolation, feelings of stress and entrapment, preemptive grief and post-loss financial hardship. Losing the person you cared for can also lead to feelings of purposelessness, a risk factor among the general population as well. His sick wife asked him to kill her. Now that she's gone, he says the loneliness is worse. 'Many of the things that caregivers experience are those very things that we're concerned about when we think about risk factors for suicide,' Farmer said. In a 2016 study, more than half of hospice and palliative social workers (55.4%) reported having worked with one or more caregivers who exhibited warning signs of suicide. During the pandemic, 30.7% of self-reported unpaid caregivers for adults seriously considered suicide, compared to 10.7% of the general population. Adult caregivers also reported having experienced disproportionately worse mental health outcomes and increased substance use. However, caregivers often do not have enough time to 'rest, recover and take care of their personal needs,' which can lead them to 'forgo their own wellbeing,' said Lindsay Jurist-Rosner, the co-founder and CEO of Wellthy, a care coordination service for caregivers. 'Sometimes being a mom means that your needs come last,' Scheu said. 'I think that's something just about every mom can shake her head yes to.' Farmer said feelings of shame can contribute to caregivers' hesitance to discuss suicidal thoughts. 'When you're caring for people, people will call you a hero. And heroes don't ask for help, right? We need to change that narrative. In order to be healthy enough to care for the person that you love, you have to take care of yourself,' Farmer said. Financial barriers keep caregivers from seeking mental health help Caregivers often call the 988 helpline on behalf of someone else, such as a mother calling to get resources for her child, according to Farmer. In those conversations, the caregiver's own mental health challenges can come up, too. While access to crisis support is lifesaving, Jurist-Rosner challenges the idea that talk therapy is the only gold standard for supporting caregivers. Rather, it's one component of a larger equation. Jurist-Rosner said tangible support to alleviate some of the demands of caregiving — such as financial support and relief from administrative tasks — is crucial. 'If you're feeling physically overwhelmed and time-starved, and you're worried about your financial future and putting food on the table because the cost of care is so hard, does spending an hour with a therapist change any of that?' she said. Scheu said she went to online therapy in 2023, after the stress of parenthood led her to give up her professional dream and close her sustainable home goods store. But when she used up the limited sessions her husband's health insurance paid for, she couldn't continue. 'We needed to use our funds and our HSA account for other things,' she said. Her daughters have myriad health conditions and require frequent doctor visits. Shari Turner, Chief Health Officer at the Crisis Text Line, worries Medicaid cuts may disproportionately impact caregivers. 'Those are going to impact the care of the underserved,' she said. 'And many caregivers are relying on Medicaid to support or supplement the people they're caring for.' More: They don't need Medicaid. But their kids do. Financial stress, social isolation are a 'perfect storm' for male caregivers While the majority of America's caregivers are women, more men are taking on caregiving roles and being more active parents than ever before. With that added responsibility comes added stress, and some men are struggling. But they don't want to talk about it, said Gary Barker, CEO and president of Equimundo, a nonprofit organization dedicated to gender equality and violence prevention. According to the nonprofit's State of American Men 2025 report which surveyed nearly 2,500 people, 86% of men and 77% of women say being a provider defines manhood. Men facing financial strain are 16 times more likely to report suicidal thoughts, while women facing financial strain are seven times more likely to report suicidal thoughts. The financial stress and social isolation many male caregivers feel is a "perfect storm," Barker said. But men are "far less likely to seek help," he said. Americans don't do a good job of teaching young boys and men how to deal with their feelings and practice mindfulness, Barker added. But it "really pays off if we do." 'I think those are the men who probably step back when they could get to the edge of causing harm to themselves or somebody else," Barker said. 'There are too many people that rely on me.' Scheu works part time at a nonprofit. She works mostly nights and weekends so she can care for her girls during the day. Her days are filled with worry. Worry about her daughters' health, worry about her family's budget. 'It's easy to catastrophize,' she said. 'I try not to allow myself to go down that path anymore... there are too many people that rely on me.' Her front door is adorned with a sign that reads, 'Welcome to Camp Chaos.' Inside, Rachel's toys litter the floor and her squeals of delight fill the air. But on her back porch, Scheu finds stillness. She goes back to reminding herself: 'This is temporary.' Madeline Mitchell's role covering women and the caregiving economy at USA TODAY is supported by a partnership with Pivotal and Journalism Funding Partners. Funders do not provide editorial input. Reach Madeline at memitchell@ and @maddiemitch_ on X.
Los Angeles Times
21-07-2025
- Los Angeles Times
As Trump's raids ramp up, a Texas region's residents stay inside — even when they need medical care
WESLACO, Texas — These days, Juanita says a prayer every time she steps off the driveway of her modest rural home. The 41-year-old mother, who crossed into the United States from Mexico more than two decades ago and married an American carpenter, fears federal agents may be on the hunt for her. As she was about to leave for the pharmacy late last month, her husband called with a frantic warning: Immigration enforcement officers were swarming the store's parking lot. Juanita, who is prediabetic, skipped filling medications that treat her nutrient deficiencies. She also couldn't risk being detained because she has to care for her 17-year-old daughter, who has Down syndrome. 'If I am caught, who's going to help my daughter?' Juanita asks in Spanish, through an interpreter. Some people quoted in this story insisted that the Associated Press publish only their first names because of concerns over their immigration status. As the Trump administration intensifies deportation activity around the country, some immigrants — including many who have lived in Texas's southern tip for decades — are unwilling to leave their homes, even for necessary medical care. Tucked behind the freeway strip malls, roadside taquerias and vast citrus groves that span this 160-mile stretch of the Rio Grande Valley are people like Juanita, who need critical medical care in one of the nation's poorest and unhealthiest regions. For generations, Mexican families have harmoniously settled — some legally, some not — in this predominately Latino community where immigration status was once hardly top of mind. White House officials have directed federal agents to leave no location unchecked, including hospitals and churches, in their drive to remove 1 million immigrants by year's end. Those agents are even combing through the federal government's largest medical record databases to search for immigrants who may be in the United States illegally. Deportations and tougher restrictions will come with consequences, says Mark Krikorian, the director of the Center for Immigration Studies, a think tank that favors restrictive immigration policies. 'We shouldn't have let it get out of hand the way we did,' Krikorian says of the previous administration's immigration policies. 'Some businesses are going to have difficulties. Some communities are going to face difficulties.' Federal agents' raids began reaching deeper into everyday life across the Rio Grande Valley in June, just as the area's 1.4 million residents began their summer ritual of enduring the suffocating heat. This working-class stretch of Texas solidly backed Trump in the 2024 election, despite campaign promises to ruthlessly pursue mass deportations. People here, who once moved regularly from the U.S. to Mexico to visit relatives or get cheap dental care, say they didn't realize his deportation campaign would focus on their neighbors. But in recent weeks, restaurant workers have been escorted out mid-shift and farmers have suddenly lost field workers. Schoolchildren talk openly about friends who lost a parent in raids. More than a dozen were arrested last month at local flea markets, according to local news reports and Border Patrol officials. Immigrants are staying shut inside their mobiles homes and shacks that make up the 'colonias,' zoning-free neighborhoods that sometimes don't have access to running water or electricity, says Sandra de la Cruz-Yarrison, who runs the Holy Family Services, Inc. clinic in Weslaco, Texas. 'People are not going to risk it,' de la Cruz-Yarrison says. 'People are being stripped from their families.' Yet people here are among the most medically needy in the country. Nearly half the population is obese. Women are more likely to be diagnosed with cervical cancer and elderly people are more likely to develop dementia. Bladder cancers can be more aggressive. One out of every four people lives with diabetes. As much as a third of the population doesn't have health insurance to cover those ailments. And a quarter of people live in poverty, more than double the national average. Now, many in this region are on a path to develop worse health outcomes as they skip doctor appointments out of fear, says Dr. Stanley Fisch, a pediatrician who helped open Driscoll Children's Hospital in the region last year. 'We've always had, unfortunately, people who have gone with untreated diabetes for a long time and now it's compounded with these other issues at the moment,' Fisch says. 'This is a very dangerous situation for people. The population is suffering accordingly.' Elvia was the unlucky — and unsuspecting — patient who sat down for the finger prick the clinic offers everyone during its monthly educational meeting for community members. As blood oozed out of her finger, the monitor registered a 194 glucose level, indicating she is prediabetic. She balked at the idea of writing down her address for regular care at Holy Family Services' clinic. Nor did she want to enroll in Medicaid, the federal and state funded program that provides health care coverage to the poorest Americans. Although she is a legal resident, some people living in her house do not have legal status. Fewer people have come to Holy Family Services' clinic with coverage in recent months, says billing coordinator Elizabeth Reta. Over decades, the clinic's midwifery staff has helped birth thousands of babies in bathtubs or on cozy beds in birthing houses situated throughout the campus. But now, Reta says, some parents are too scared to sign those children up for health insurance because they do not want to share too much information with the government. 'Even people I personally know that used to have Medicaid for their children that were born here — that are legally here, but the parents are not — they stopped requesting Medicaid,' Reta says. Their worry is well-founded. An Associated Press investigation last week revealed that U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials have gained access to personal health data — including addresses — of the nation's 79 million Medicaid and Children's Health Insurance Program enrollees. The disclosure will allow ICE officials to receive 'identity and location information of aliens,' documents obtained by the AP say. In Texas, the governor started requiring emergency room staff to ask patients about their legal status, a move that doctors have argued will dissuade immigrants from seeking needed care. State officials have said the data will show how much money is spent on care for immigrants who may not be here legally. Federal law requires emergency rooms to treat any patients who come to the doors. Visits to Holy Family Services' mobile clinic have stopped altogether since Trump took office. The van, which once offered checkups at the doorsteps in the colonias, now sits running on idle. Its constant hum is heard throughout the clinic's campus, to keep medical supplies fresh in the 100-degree temperatures. 'These were hard-hit communities that really needed the services,' de la Cruz-Yarrison says. 'People were just not coming after the administration changed.' Immigrants were less likely to seek medical care during Trump's first term, multiple studies concluded. A 2023 study of well-child visits in Boston, Minneapolis and Little Rock, Arkansas, noted a 5% drop for children who were born to immigrant mothers after Trump was elected in 2016. The study also noted declines in visits when news about Trump's plans to tighten immigration rules broke throughout his first term. 'It's a really high-anxiety environment where they're afraid to talk to the pediatrician, go to school or bring their kids to child care,' says Stephanie Ettinger de Cuba, a Boston University researcher who oversaw the study. A delayed trip to the doctor almost cost 82-year-old Maria Isabel de Perez her son this spring. He refused to seek help for his intense and constant stomach pains for weeks, instead popping Tylenol daily so he could still labor in the farm fields of Arkansas, she says. He put off going to the hospital as rumors swirled that immigration enforcement officials were outside of the hospital. 'He waited and waited because he felt the pain but was too scared to go to the hospital,' she explains in Spanish through an interpreter. 'He couldn't go until the appendix exploded.' Her son is still recovering after surgery and has not been able to return to work, she says. Perez is a permanent resident who has lived in the United States for 40 years. But all of her children were born in Mexico, and, because she is a green card holder, she cannot sponsor them for citizenship. Maria, meanwhile, only leaves her house to volunteer at a local food bank. She's skipped work on nearby farms. And after last month's arrests, she won't sell clothes for money at the flea market anymore. So she stuffs cardboard boxes with loaves of bread, potatoes, peppers and beans that will be handed out to the hungry. Before the raids began, about 130 people would drive up to collect a box of food from Maria. But on this sweltering June day, only 68 people show up for food. She brings home a box weekly to her children, ages 16, 11 and 4, who are spending the summer shut inside. Her 16-year-old daughter has skipped the checkup she needs to refill her depression medication. The teenager, who checks in on friends whose parents have been arrested in immigration raids through a text group chat, insists she is 'doing OK.' Maria left Mexico years ago because dangerous gangs rule her hometown, she explains. She's married now to an American truck driver. 'We're not bad people,' Maria says from her dining room table, where her 4-year-old son happily eats a lime green popsicle. 'We just want to have a better future for our children.' Juanita, the prediabetic mother who hasn't filled her prescriptions out of fear, was not sure when she would brave the pharmacy again. But with a cross hanging around her neck, the devout Catholic says she will say three invocations before she does. Explains her 15-year-old son, Jose: 'We always pray before we leave.' Seitz and Martin write for the Associated Press.
Newsweek
21-07-2025
- Newsweek
Mom Gives Birth to Baby at 33 Weeks, Then Gets Diagnosis
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. A mom from the North of England, U.K., received a shocking diagnosis after giving birth prematurely. Lauren Thomson (@laurenlou9x) shared a clip on TikTok and revealed that her baby boy was born at 33 weeks. Days later, she learned that her son has trisomy 21, also known as Down syndrome. Split view of premature baby boy and mom Lauren Thomson, 30, wearing brown leather-look jacket. Split view of premature baby boy and mom Lauren Thomson, 30, wearing brown leather-look jacket. @laurenlou9x The mom of four told Newsweek that her pregnancy came as a surprise itself. "I didn't find out I was pregnant until 16 weeks," she said. "I had no symptoms or signs of pregnancy. I had no idea that I was going to have him early and no scans showed anything different to my other children." Trisomy 21, or Down syndrome, is a genetic condition caused by the presence of an extra copy of chromosome 21. It can result in developmental delays, characteristic facial features and an increased risk of certain health conditions. However, the severity and symptoms vary widely between individuals. Thomson's son was immediately admitted to the neonatal unit after he was born. "He has been looked after on 24-hour care," Thomson told Newsweek, adding that hospital staff have been amazing. "They check his obs regularly and feed him like their own," she said. But it wasn't until four days after delivery that doctors raised concerns. Nurses had noticed several physical markers often associated with Down syndrome, such as low muscle tone, a folded ear and almond-shaped eyes. "That's when they discussed... testing him, which I agreed to after they explained the reasons," Thomson said. "I was very confused and shocked when they told me about it all; I didn't really know what to say or think." Thomson wrote on the text overlay of her clip that she "knows very little" about trisomy 21. "It was the strangest situation I've ever been in," she told Newsweek. "I just agreed with them about testing him and then went home and did some research about what had been said." Thomson's clip has been viewed more than 650,000 times and received almost 20,000 likes. Hundreds have commented with overwhelming support and many others shared their own experiences with Down syndrome. "My son was born in 2017 with trisomy 21 and I can promise you that he will teach you to see the world in completely new colors," one user wrote. "Congratulations. My 6yo little girl surprised us with an extra chromosome too, she's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I found it helpful to reach out to other parents and we were welcomed into the DS [Down syndrome] community with open arms," another said.
