Jay didn’t just “get cancer.”
The warning was already there.
It was documented.
And it was ignored.
In October 2012, while Jay was still under the care of the United States Department of Defense, imaging revealed a mass in his abdomen.
The radiology report didn’t hedge. It didn’t speculate.
It clearly stated:
“Mass found. Follow-up is needed.” In English and French since he was at Chièvres Air Base
Not optional.
Not a suggestion.
Needed.
And then nothing happened.
No referral.
No additional testing.
No urgency.
No system to make sure that follow-up ever occurred.
The red flag was raised and quietly filed away.
Four Years of Missed Opportunities
Between 2012 and 2016, Jay had:
• numerous medical appointments
• ongoing care within the military medical system
• at least one hospitalization (April 2016: 5 day hospitalization: Bowel obstruction, diagnosed with x-ray since all other imaging was “down” at the military hospital at Fort Campbell)
Yet not a single provider reviewed the radiology report from Chièvres Air Base.
No one connected the dots.
No one questioned the unresolved finding.
No one acted on the documented mass.
Four full years passed while cancer had time to grow, spread, and entrench itself.
Time that early detection could have changed the outcome.
The Diagnosis That Finally Came
(Too Late)
In September 2016, it was the United States Department of Veterans Affairs that finally did what should have happened years earlier.
They ran tests, scans, and scopes.
They looked deeper.
They followed up.
And that’s when the truth came out.
Stage four cancer.
Not something new.
Something that had been quietly advancing while the system looked the other way.
From that moment on, it wasn’t about curing it.
It was about buying time.
Two+ Years of Fighting
Jay lived just over two years after that diagnosis.
Two years of treatments.
Two years of tough reality.
Two years of hospital rooms, side effects, strength, and suffering.
Two years of me becoming his caregiver while watching the man I loved fade.
And in October 2018, Jay died.
The Cruel Twist of Policy
Military medical malpractice and wrongful death claims are capped at 24 months.
Jay survived just long enough after diagnosis to fall outside that window.
Because the system delayed care for years.
Because he endured longer.
Because we fought longer.
Accountability disappeared.
Not because negligence didn’t happen.
Not because harm wasn’t clear.
But because time ran out.
When Endurance Becomes the Disqualifier
Let that logic sit.
If Jay had died faster after diagnosis, there could have been recourse.
Because he lived longer, the system erased responsibility.
So in practice:
Quick death counts.
Slow suffering doesn’t.
A documented mass ignored for four years doesn’t matter.
Multiple missed chances don’t matter.
Only the calendar does.
That isn’t justice.
That’s bureaucracy protecting itself.
Those Years Were the Cost of Delay.
Those two years after diagnosis weren’t bonus life.
They were:
• chemotherapy
• hospital stays
• constant pain management
• emotional exhaustion
• financial strain
• full-time caregiving
• watching decline in slow motion
Time that never should have been spent fighting advanced cancer in the first place.
And somehow, that suffering became the reason accountability vanished.
The Real Failure
This wasn’t unavoidable.
This was:
• a mass clearly identified in 2012
• an explicit instruction for follow-up
• years of providers never reviewing past records
• a diagnosis only when the disease was already terminal
This was systemic failure.
And systemic failure cost Jay his life.
Final Thought from the Free-Range Advocate Desk
Jay didn’t miss a deadline.
The system missed four years of warning signs.
No family should lose justice because their loved one endured longer than policy allows.
No survivor should be told that prolonged suffering makes negligence invisible.
Cancer doesn’t follow bureaucratic clocks.
And accountability shouldn’t expire while people are still fighting to live.
Because surviving longer is not a loophole.
It’s proof of courage in the face of failure.