• I offer a FREE Initial Consultation
• I offer TeleAdvocacy Service
• My geographical area of practice is Northeast Florida, Greater Jacksonville Area, Ponte Vedra Beach, St. Augustine

Hi, I'm Coral. And I'm sorry you're here because it likely means that you or someone you love dearly has been diagnosed with cancer. I'm truly sorry. F*ck! sometimes feels like the only appropriate response when hearing about a new cancer diagnosis, but I know much more is needed beyond an exclamatory expletive. Tell me about it. What's going on? How are you feeling? What's top of mind? What do you need? What's standing in your way? What do you want to know? And it's okay if your answer to any or all of those questions is, "I don't know." I get it—I really do. We can seek answers together, at your pace, at your direction, and in alignment with your values.

I'm here to lower hurdles and make this indescribable chapter of your life a bit easier to move through, with hope and confidence.

I lost my grandfather to Stage 4 lung cancer when I was 20, lost my father to Stage 4 acinic cell carcinoma when I was 22, and my husband and mother-in-law were diagnosed (months apart) with Stage 3 and Stage 4 colorectal cancer, respectively, before I reached the age of 40. Though I have not been personally diagnosed, cancer has had a sincere and weighty impact on my adult life.

In the year following my husband’s diagnosis, I felt isolated and detached. Although family, friends, and colleagues knew of his diagnosis and showed support in beautiful and surprising ways, it felt very lonely. It was as though we were the first couple to experience this—starting from scratch with no guidebook. I spent so much time searching, researching, and self-educating that, over time, I pulled away from actual people. Fixated on knowledge, facts, and prevailing theories, I left little room for interpersonal connection or emotional processing—It was just me and my anxious, racing brain.

As lonely as I may have been, it didn’t take long to realize that I was not alone with this preoccupation. Scouring the internet endlessly for answers to questions was not a unique experience for someone bearing the weight of a new cancer diagnosis. This wasn’t a Me problem; it was a pretty-much-everyone problem. Trying to learn what you don’t even know you need to learn is exhausting, frustrating, and messy.

Patients and caregivers of today are generally more engaged, proactive, and knowledgeable than those of the past, and this should be recognized, nurtured, and harnessed. Not only do we have greater access to information, but we want to be in the room where decisions are being made about our health, and we want our voices to be heard. We don’t want to leave decision-making up to someone else, and we want to be educated on the topics surrounding the decisions we’ll make. We are a different “breed,” so to speak, and therefore require a different approach—a proactive, empowered approach.

Creating Oncology Offense stemmed from my desire to lower the hurdles that future cancer patients and their caregivers will encounter as they learn about cancer and make decisions about their health and their futures. Taking into account my more recent experiences caregiving and supporting my family through their cancer diagnoses, coupled with my lifelong interest in science and medicine, this endeavor felt both natural and necessary.