Volunteer’s Cancer Journey Comes Full Circle Through Research, Advocacy 

Zach Dane considered himself an ordinary person. He worked as an administrator for the New York City public school system, spent time with his wife, and volunteered when possible. But life sometimes calls on ordinary people to summon extraordinary resilience, and Zach was ready to answer that call.

As a college student in 2009, Zach’s roommate invited him to a local American Cancer Society Relay For Life® event. When he was younger, Zach had been affected by cancer as a caregiver for his mother. Although she had no known risk factors, she developed lung cancer and passed away. He knew attending the Relay event would be a way to honor her memory, but he didn’t anticipate how deeply the experience would affect him. 

As the luminary ceremony began and candlelit bags glowed in the dark, each carrying the name of a loved one, Zach felt something shift inside him. That night, he walked the track until morning, marking the first steps on his cancer advocacy journey.

He soon became an active volunteer with the American Cancer Society, helping raise awareness and funds for critical cancer research and patient support programs like Hope Lodge® and Road To Recovery®. It was fulfilling and rewarding and gave him a sense of purpose. What Zach didn’t know was that he would soon be on a cancer journey of his own. 

A Shocking Diagnosis

In July 2024, Zach went for a routine physical exam. He was 34, healthy, and had no symptoms. But when his doctor called him later that day, Zach was surprised to hear that something was off in his bloodwork. It could be a lab error, the doctor said, or it could be something far more serious.  

Zach didn’t initially take this news too seriously. He finished a work call and texted his wife before heading to the hospital. There, further tests confirmed what the labs had shown. His white blood cell count was significantly elevated. Within hours, he had been referred to a cancer center and was diagnosed with chronic myeloid leukemia (CML). CML is a type of cancer that starts in the blood-forming cells of the bone marrow and invades the blood. About 15% of leukemias in adults are CML.

While trying to understand the impact of this life-changing diagnosis, Zach felt relieved hearing his doctor’s explanation of his treatment plan and the specific medicine that was recommended.  

Imatinib, with the brand name of Gleevec, was a groundbreaking targeted therapy treatment for CML when it was approved in 2001. It has since been approved to treat other health conditions, too. And the most astonishing part? The research that led to its development was funded in part by the American Cancer Society. The very organization Zach had poured his heart into for over a decade had, in turn, helped to save his life.

“The moment I found out it was American Cancer Society-funded research, I immediately felt hopeful,” Zach recalled. “Because I knew people who had been on that pill for years, people who had been in the clinical trials when it first came out. I knew I had a future.”

A Renewed Commitment to Giving Back

Determined not to let his diagnosis define him, Zach deepened his commitment to advocacy. He became a Road To Recovery driver, ensuring that other people undergoing treatment have access to reliable transportation. “Road To Recovery is an invaluable program,” he said. “It’s not just about getting people to treatment. It’s about giving them hope. Giving them someone to talk to. Being a friendly face when they need it most.”

He also worked to improve collaboration between volunteers and American Cancer Society staff, advocating for better resources and increased outreach. This work earned him a National Young Leader Award from the American Cancer Society in 2024. “Every dollar raised makes a difference,” he emphasized. “Research saved my life, and I want to make sure it saves others too.”

Looking Ahead

It wasn’t just his advocacy that kept Zach going. It was his future. A future that, in May 2025, will include his newborn daughter.

When Zach and his wife found out they were expecting, it was a moment of both joy and anxiety. Cancer had already upended their world once. What if it did so again? They were relieved to find out that the genetic mutation for Zach’s type of CML is acquired, not inherited. So they knew CML would not be passed along to their child.

“As a dad-to-be, knowing my daughter isn’t at risk for inheriting the genetic mutation for CML means the world,” he said. “That kind of certainty takes so much stress away. And that’s because of research. That’s partly because of the American Cancer Society.”

Looking Ahead

It wasn’t just his advocacy that kept Zach going. It was his future. A future that, in May 2025, will include his newborn daughter.

When Zach and his wife found out they were expecting, it was a moment of both joy and anxiety. Cancer had already upended their world once. What if it did so again? They were relieved to find out that the genetic mutation for Zach’s type of CML is acquired, not inherited. So they knew CML would not be passed along to their child.

“As a dad-to-be, knowing my daughter isn’t at risk for inheriting the genetic mutation for CML means the world,” he said. “That kind of certainty takes so much stress away. And that’s because of research. That’s partly because of the American Cancer Society.”

Knowing that research has given him an effective treatment and reassurance that his cancer is not hereditary, Zach was filled with a renewed sense of purpose. He wants his daughter to grow up in a world where cancer is not considered or talked about as a death sentence, where treatments are effective, where support is unwavering, and where no one has to face their diagnosis alone.  

Looking back, Zach marvels at how different his life turned out from what he once imagined. He had expected to be a teacher, a husband, maybe a father. He never expected to also be a cancer survivor, an award-winning volunteer, or a symbol of hope for so many. But he embraces it all. 

Because now, he understands something he hadn’t before: “Cancer is not the end of my story,” he said. “It’s just a comma. And I have so much more to write.”