By: Aryana Hadjimohammadi
Editor’s Note from Dr. Sheri®: I’m deeply grateful to Aryana Hadjimohammadi for taking the time to tell my story with such care. I hope that wherever you find yourself today, this story reminds you that even life’s most difficult chapters can become the foundation for purpose, hope, and service.
Originally written as a long-form profile exploring the life, faith, and purpose of Dr. Sheri®
“When I was growing up, my neighborhood was a village,” Dr. Sheri Prentiss recalls of her childhood on Chicago’s South Side. On her block, families treated one another’s homes as extensions of their own. Children drifted in and out of neighbors’ houses, and parents shared responsibility for every child.
“There wasn’t anything I could do on my block—or even a couple of blocks away—and think I was going to get away with it if it was wrong,” she said with a smile. “Somebody was going to tell my mama. The parents on our block looked after all of us. Family extended far beyond blood relatives. It wasn’t just the family you were born into—it was also the family you chose and the community that chose you.”
In that village-like environment, a young girl slowly realized what she wanted to do with her life: help people. “I honestly don’t remember a time when I wanted to be anything other than a physician,” she said.
As a child, she was captivated by the television series Marcus Welby, M.D. “I remember watching Marcus Welby and seeing a physician who seemed to know how to help every patient who came through his door,” she said. “He figured out what was wrong, he made people feel better, and he lived in a beautiful home and drove a nice car. As a little girl, that was the life I admired. My heart simply said, ‘I want to help people, and I want to live a life like that.”
But it was never just about the nice house or the nice car. “I’ve always been fascinated by science, but I was even more fascinated by people,” she said. “Growing up in church and in a neighborhood where everyone looked out for one another nurtured that fascination. Medicine brought those two passions together—the intellectual challenge of solving complex problems and the privilege of making someone’s worst day a little better.”
What stayed with her most was the way Marcus Welby showed up when people were scared. “I remember Marcus Welby could always come in, and when a family was distraught or a person was worried about their life or what was going to happen, he made them feel better,” she said. “That was what I wanted to do.”
For Prentiss, becoming a physician was never simply about earning a degree.
“It was about earning the privilege of being trusted during some of the most vulnerable moments of another person’s life,” she said.
“It was about earning the privilege of being trusted during some of the most vulnerable moments of another person’s life.”
That sense of purpose—rooted in genuine compassion and fueled by determination—guided her through graduating with honors from Northwestern University and Loyola University Chicago Stritch School of Medicine, earning a Master of Public Health from the University of Illinois, and building a distinguished career as a board-certified occupational and environmental medicine physician.
By 2008, she had built a life marked by accomplishment, productivity, and impact. “I was driven,” she said. “ Once I made up my mind that I wanted something, I pursued it wholeheartedly. I simply wasn’t going to let anything—or anyone—stand in my way.”
Then everything changed.
The Day Everything Changed
October 1, 2008, began like any other. Prentiss was waiting for a phone call about her mother, who was being transferred to inpatient hospice in the final stages of her life. While speaking with her daughters’ father, she performed her monthly breast self-examination.
“The moment I felt the lump, I knew exactly what it was,” she recalled.
Twelve days later, on October 13, a biopsy confirmed what she already suspected: Stage IIA invasive ductal carcinoma. She was a single mother co-parenting two preteen daughters, caring for her dying mother, and now preparing to fight for her own life.
“Everything seemed to stop,” she said. “In an instant, my mind shifted from physician to mother…from physician to daughter…and from physician to patient. I was caring for my mother in the final days of her life, navigating the end of a 17-year marriage, co-parenting two preteen daughters, and suddenly facing the fight of my own life.”
She remembers the questions that consumed her. “I wasn’t thinking about statistics,” she said. “I was thinking about my mother, who was nearing the end of her life. I was thinking about my daughters, who were still in middle school and high school. Would I live to watch them grow up? Would I be there for their birthdays…their graduations…their weddings?”
She also remembers the moment everything shifted. “In that single moment I crossed the line I never expected to cross. I went from physician to patient.”
“In that single moment I crossed the line I never expected to cross. I went from physician to patient.”
“For the first time, I wasn’t the person explaining the diagnosis, I wasn’t the one reassuring someone else, I was the one waiting for pathology reports, waiting for scans, waiting for lab results, waiting for someone else to walk through the door with answers, and you just quickly realize how vulnerable patients truly feel.”
What Treatment Really Looked Like
The treatment was brutal.
“I underwent what was supposed to be a lumpectomy,” she said. “Instead, my surgeon had to operate four times to achieve clean margins. By the time she was finished, half of my right breast had been removed.”
Sixteen lymph nodes were removed; three contained cancer. Then came 15 rounds of chemotherapy, which claimed every strand of hair on her body, followed by 33 radiation treatments.
“The radiation burned my right breast, chest, neck, and nipple,” she said. “My skin turned black. My fingernails darkened, and I lost several of them. I even lost both of my great toenails—twice.”
“I didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me.”
Then, in the middle of treatment, came another devastating loss. On a day when her white blood cell count had fallen to 1.8—too low to receive chemotherapy and leaving her dangerously immunocompromised—her mother died in her arms.
“My mom died in my arms,” she said quietly. “My white blood cell count was only 1.8, and I wasn’t supposed to be around anyone. But there was no way my mother was going to leave this earth without me by her side.”
She reflects on that season. “Those seasons when life doesn’t give you one crisis at a time. Sometimes they come all at once. And those seasons will either break you or build you. And I’m grateful to say the latter is in my case.”
She worried constantly about her daughters.
“My girls knew what cancer meant,” she said. “They watched their mother’s body change before their eyes, and then they lost their grandmother, whom they loved dearly. I can only imagine what was going through their minds. They had just lost Grammy…were they going to lose Mom too?”
She paused before continuing. “I did everything I could to reassure them. I gave them words of hope and encouragement, but deep down I didn’t know what the future held. I was telling them everything was going to be okay, while quietly wondering if I was going to live through it.”
When Treatment Ends, the Real Work Begins
Surviving cancer was not the end of the battle. It was the beginning of something else entirely.
“Lymphedema actually started when treatment ended, and now it’s something that I have to live with for the rest of my life,” she explains.
Lymphedema is a chronic condition where lymph fluid builds up in the body’s tissues, causing painful swelling. It affects one in five breast cancer survivors, according to Harvard Medical School. For Prentiss, it affects her right arm, hand, and fingers — and she is right-handed.
“I have permanent painful swelling in my right upper extremity,” she said.
The daily management never stops. “I perform manual lymphatic drainage massage on myself in the morning and again at night. I wear compression garments during the day, and a different type of compression garment at night. Some people need pneumatic devices to treat their lymphedema, and other various forms of treatment.”
The cost of these medically necessary garments is staggering. “An average daytime set could cost anywhere between $250 to $300. You need to have at least two sets of garments at all times, because while one set is air drying after washing, you need to have another set to wear.”
For custom garments, the cost is even higher. “My nighttime custom garments, cost $2,500 that was not covered by insurance.”
“I experienced firsthand how expensive compression garments are,” she said.
“Many survivors are living with lymphedema and don’t even realize they have it because they’ve been told it’s ‘just some swelling,'” she said. “Too often, they’re told, ‘But you survived,’ as though lymphedema is some sort of consolation prize. It isn’t.”
The financial burden is only part of the story. There is also the emotional and psychosocial toll—the self-consciousness of a swollen limb, the curious stares from strangers, the constant questions, and the daily reminder that cancer’s impact did not end when treatment ended.
“People often overlook the psychosocial impact of lymphedema,” she said. “Suddenly, a part of your body that was once private becomes visible to everyone, and it can feel like the whole world is looking at what’s different about you.”
She came to a difficult realization: “Surviving cancer shouldn’t depend on your bank account.”
A New Calling Is Born
Prentiss knew what it felt like to need help and to wonder how she would afford medically necessary garments for the rest of her life. And through her speaking career — she has delivered nearly 1,000 keynote speeches across the globe — she met thousands of survivors facing the same challenge.
“The foundation was really born out of two things, my personal experience and holy discontent. I knew what it felt like to need help. I knew what it felt like to wonder how I would pay for medically necessary garments for the rest of my life.”
She describes what she witnessed. “Some survivors were walking around with lymphedema and didn’t even know what they had, so they weren’t receiving the treatment they needed. Others faithfully wore their compression garments but covered them with long sleeves because they didn’t want anyone to see them.”
So, in 2017, she founded the LIVE Today Foundation.
The mission was simple but profound: provide free compression garments to under-resourced cancer patients and survivors living with cancer-related lymphedema. What began as an effort to support breast cancer survivors soon evolved into a broader mission as the need became impossible to ignore.
“The requests came so quickly and in such large numbers that I realized this wasn’t just a breast cancer issue,” she said. “I expanded the foundation to serve people living with lymphedema following any cancer diagnosis. It was also important to include both cancer patients and survivors because many individuals with metastatic disease are still undergoing treatment while living with lymphedema. I never wanted them to feel excluded from the support we provide.”
The foundation also focuses on educating physicians about lymphedema — how to monitor for it, how to prevent it, and how to support patients who develop it. And it raises awareness among patients themselves.
“I want every cancer patient to become their own best advocate,” she said. “Don’t wait for someone else to bring up lymphedema. Ask about your risk, ask how you’ll be monitored, and make sure you understand what symptoms should prompt you to seek care. Early detection and early intervention can make all the difference.”
Since its founding, the LIVE Today Foundation has helped nearly 800 cancer patients and survivors receive medically necessary compression garments they otherwise could not afford.
“LIVE Today exists so no survivor has to choose between paying bills and managing lymphedema.”
What the Patient Experience Taught Her About Health Care
Prentiss’s journey from physician to patient gave her a perspective she never expected — one that fundamentally changed how she sees health care.
“It taught me that excellent medicine isn’t enough,” she said. “Patients don’t just need good treatment, they need hope. They need to feel heard; they need someone who remembers they are more than their diagnosis, than their lab results, more than a statistic.”
As a physician, she explains, “Medical school taught me how to diagnose and treat disease. Becoming a patient taught me how important it is to first see the person behind the diagnosis. Those aren’t separate responsibilities—they’re inseparable. When you truly see the person first, you provide better care.”
She learned this lesson not just through her own experience, but through the stories she heard from other survivors — the woman whose husband couldn’t “handle seeing her sick” and stayed at his brother’s house during chemo, the patient who came to appointments alone and never mentioned the loneliness.
“If your only goal is to get a patient through chemotherapy, you’ve missed an opportunity to care for the whole person,” she said. “She may need a social worker. She may need a counselor. She may need someone to help her navigate a marriage that’s falling apart or the loneliness of facing cancer without support. That’s what I learned as both a physician and a patient: treating disease is only part of healing. Caring for the person is what makes medicine truly transformational.”
Her advice to physicians is simple: See the whole person.
“Remember that the person sitting in front of you has a life beyond this exam room,” she said. “Don’t get so focused on the disease, the lab results, or the differential diagnosis that you stop seeing the person. That’s where compassionate, patient-centered care begins.”
“See your patient as someone who can thrive, not just survive,” she said. “Helping them overcome disease is about more than making them disease-free. It’s about restoring a sense of wholeness. When we focus only on individual symptoms, we miss the person. True healing happens when we care for the whole person.”
The Transformation Story
That transformation is visible in everything she does today. As a physician executive, she advises Fortune 500 healthcare organizations on health equity and culturally responsive care. As an international speaker, she has reached hundreds of thousands of people. As an ordained minister, she bridges science and faith. And as the founder of the LIVE Today Foundation, she puts her philosophy into action every single day.
“LIVE Today would have never existed had I not gone through what I went through,” she said.
Her personal philosophy is embodied in the foundation’s name, which is also an acronym: Love yourself and others, Inspire those around you, Voice your dreams and ambitions, and Enjoy life.
“It means refusing to postpone joy,” she explains. “It means recognizing that tomorrow isn’t promised. It means choosing gratitude in the middle of uncertainty.”
Her faith has been central to this transformation. “My faith didn’t remove my suffering, but it did transform it,” she said. “There were days I had questions, days I cried, days I was exhausted, but through every season I discovered something remarkable, and that is God never wastes pain.”
She adds: “Some of the greatest opportunities I’ve had to encourage others came because of the very experiences I once wished had never happened.”
She reflects on the deeper meaning: “Pain has purpose. If you allow it to fulfill that purpose, it won’t just transform your life—it will prepare you to help transform someone else’s.”
“Pain has purpose. If you allow it to fulfill that purpose, it won’t just transform your life—it will prepare you to help transform someone else’s.”
A Message of Hope
When people meet Prentiss today, she hopes they see beyond the titles and accomplishments — the MD, the MPH, the FACPE, the CSP®.
“I hope they see someone who has learned that influence isn’t measured by the letters after your name, but by the lives you leave better than you found them,” she said. “Everything I’ve accomplished from becoming a physician, to leading organizations, to speaking around the world means very little if people don’t leave feeling seen, encouraged, and reminded that they still have purpose.”
“At the end of my life, I don’t want to be remembered simply as an accomplished physician. I want to be remembered as someone who loved people well, pointed them toward hope, and used every chapter of her own story to help someone else write a better ending to theirs.”
What would she tell the woman she was before her diagnosis?
“I would tell her to slow down, love more deeply. Don’t assume tomorrow is guaranteed. Your greatest purpose won’t come through your accomplishment, it will come through your scars, and one day you’ll realize the things you thought were ending your life were actually preparing you to change other people’s lives.”
Her message to anyone facing adversity:
“Cancer is only a part of my story, it’s not my identity,” she said. “Adversity can become purpose, pain can become compassion, scars can become strength, and after everything changes, hope still remains.”
She also stresses the importance of mental and emotional health. “Your mental and emotional health is critically important because how you think determines how you feel, and how you feel influences your actions.”
“If your outlook is one of doom and gloom, that’s all you’ll see and experience,” she said. “But if your mindset is, ‘I will get through this, and I’ll be stronger because of it,’ that perspective can make all the difference in your healing journey.”
Today, she spends her life helping people live more intentionally — whether that’s standing on a stage speaking to thousands, sitting with a cancer survivor who’s frightened, advising healthcare leaders, teaching Scripture, or writing words that help someone rediscover hope.
“Every role I have comes back to one simple desire: if someone crosses my path, I want them to leave believing their life still has purpose. That’s the privilege of the life I get to live now, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
Additional Resources
Dr. Sheri®
Learn more about Dr. Sheri Prentiss’ speaking, consulting, ministry, patient advocacy, and healthcare leadership.
www.drsherimd.com
LIVE Today Foundation
Provides free medically necessary compression garments to under-resourced cancer patients and survivors living with cancer-related lymphedema, along with education, advocacy, and survivorship resources.
www.live-today.org
Lymphatic Education & Research Network (LE&RN)
Advances research, education, and advocacy to improve the prevention, diagnosis, and treatment of lymphatic diseases while supporting patients and families worldwide.
www.lymphaticnetwork.org
National Lymphedema Network (NLN)
Provides education, advocacy, professional resources, and patient support for individuals living with lymphedema and other lymphatic disorders.
www.lymphnet.org