By: Carolyn Trachtenbroit, 35, Nonprofit Professional
I didn’t know the term “adolescent and young adult (AYA) cancer” when I was a child—but I lived it.
My connection to the AYA cancer community began when my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer in his 40s. At the time, I didn’t have the language to understand what made his experience different, but I felt it. I saw the disruption to our family’s life, the uncertainty, and the gaps no one seemed prepared to address. His age fell outside of the AYA range, yet not fully represented in the adult oncology space in a way that reflected his stage of life (self-employed carpenter, wife, 3 young daughters). He was diagnosed in August 2001 and passed the week of his first chemo treatment (October 4, 2001).
My dad’s short lived cancer diagnosis stayed with me and ultimately shaped my journey to oncology.
Years later, that personal connection grew into a professional passion. Through my work in oncology education and program development, I’ve had the opportunity to support multidisciplinary cancer care teams across the country. But it wasn’t until I became more directly involved in AYA-focused work that everything came full circle.
In 2025, I had the opportunity to lead an AYA program for 3 state society oncology organizations who recognized the considerable gap in the AYA care and the immediate need for community provider education around awareness of AYAs unique needs. During my time leading this AYA state specific education project, I attended the Adolescent and Young Adult Cancer Coalition (AYACC) conference in Chapel Hill in October 2025. Being in that space felt different—it was more than a professional meeting; it was a community. Clinicians, advocates, survivors, and caregivers came together with a shared understanding that AYA patients have unique needs that deserve dedicated attention. I remember thinking, this is what I wish existed when my family was going through this. When my mom was just trying to comprehend the 2-month-left-to-live news she received following my dad’s diagnosis.
Since then, I’ve had the privilege of leading state-level AYA initiatives focused on closing gaps in education, supportive care, and support across the continuum of care. This work brings together academic and community cancer programs and engages multidisciplinary professionals—from oncologists and advanced practice providers to social workers and navigators—to build practical, patient-centered resources.
What I’ve learned is that progress happens through connection. No single person or organization can solve these challenges alone—it takes collaboration, shared knowledge, and a commitment to doing better for this community.
That’s where I see my role. I’m a connector—someone who brings people together, helps translate ideas into action, and supports the work behind the scenes to keep things moving forward and support better outcomes for all AYAs. But beyond the work itself, what drives me is personal.
Every AYA initiative I support brings me back to families like mine—navigating a diagnosis that doesn’t fit neatly into existing systems. It reminds me of young adults balancing treatment with school, careers, starting families, and future plans, and of the providers striving to meet their needs with limited resources.
The AYA community holds a special place in my heart because this work is about more than programs—it’s about people. It’s about ensuring AYAs feel seen, supported, and understood throughout their journey and each life milestone.
And as this community continues to grow, I feel hopeful. Because the more we connect, collaborate, and amplify these voices, the closer we get to a future where no AYA patient falls through the cracks.