Meet the 2025 Day for Hope Speakers
At this year's Opening Ceremony "Your Walk is Our Walk" you'll hear from two incredible cancer survivors whose stories reflect the strength and hope that the Day of Hope is all about.
Andy Goodspeed
Before cancer, Andy Goodspeed was always on the move. Traveling, kayaking, long days at the beach – and always with a perfectly planned food itinerary. “Our vacations were always planned around food!” Andy’s wife, Simone, laughs. As a longtime chef and catering manager – nine years in a local pizza shop and over 20 years at Colby College – Andy was used to feeding others, leading teams and embracing a full life.
But in the spring of 2021, something shifted. He was 44 years old and suddenly exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep seemed to fix. “I was diagnosed with anemia first,” he said. “But even during a trip to Vegas, I knew something wasn’t right. I could barely get through the day.”
To determine the cause of his anemia, his doctor scheduled Andy for an endoscopy and a colonoscopy. The gastroenterologist ordered a CT scan following his procedure, and the results came back at the same time as the pathology: Stage 4 gastric cancer.
The feelings that followed were complicated and chaotic; he threw his phone across the room. He punched a wall. “The wall won,” he jokes. Then, he got dressed and went to work. “I was in total shock. Everything had changed, but at the same time, nothing had. Life was still happening even though I felt like mine was ending. I tried to focus on my normal routine.”
But despite his routine, the ground was shifting beneath him. The week following his diagnosis was a blur, and he was his own worst enemy in reading the statistics for his diagnosis. “I had no hope,” he admitted. “I assumed I’d be sick from treatment until I died.”
A New Kind of Care
Andy’s care was led by the Harold Alfond Center for Cancer Care in Augusta, but his infusions were delivered closer to home, at Redington Fairview General Hospital in Skowhegan. It’s a satellite model of care that allows patients to receive their life-saving treatments without driving to the cancer center for every appointment. For Andy, it became more than convenient – it became personal.
“I didn’t expect my care team to become part of my life the way they did,” Andy shared. “They weren’t just nurses, they became friends. I spent six, sometimes eight hours at every infusion and they made a point to get to know me and personalized my experience.”
There were moments along the way when Andy felt seen in ways he never expected—like the time the infusion team at Redington surprised him with a birthday cake, a card and a chorus of “Happy Birthday” during his infusion.
“It floored me,” he said. “You don’t expect that when you’re sitting there for chemo. But they went out of their way to celebrate me, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.”
His care plan included chemotherapy, immunotherapy and ongoing palliative support. Jessica Douin, FNP, is an advanced practice provider at the Harold Alfond Center for Cancer Care and was responsible for overseeing Andy’s treatment plan and managing his medication. She became a constant in Andy’s life. “If she didn’t know an answer, she’d find it. Even if it wasn’t technically her role, she followed through, every time.”
That consistency, that attention, that care gave Andy back the one thing he thought he’d lost – hope.
A Community of Hope
Throughout his walk with cancer, Andy leaned heavily on Simone, his wife of 19 years. “She was with me every step of the way,” he said. Andy started a YouTube channel in 2018, long before his cancer diagnosis. Following his diagnosis, Simone encouraged him to keep documenting his experience, but he was hesitant.
“What if it’s too depressing?” He asked.
“What if it helps someone else find hope?” She replied.
So, he kept going.
Through his chemotherapy treatments, scan results, hard days and hopeful ones, Andy’s video blogs became a window into what cancer treatment really looked like. Not the movie version, but the real, messy, sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking reality of fighting for your life.
In the process, he built a community. Friends and strangers rallied around him, some even shaving their heads in solidarity.
“It was funny – I think I fought harder because I had so many people cheering me on. I didn’t want to let them down!”
Still Walking – Now with Hope
Today, Andy is a miracle – a Stage 4 gastric cancer survivor with no evidence of disease. He still has his stomach, an unusual outcome for someone with his diagnosis. He will undergo scans every six months, remaining under watchful care. While his official diagnosis won’t change, his life is very much his own again.
Hope, which to Andy once meant surviving the night, now means watching progress unfold: better diagnostics, earlier screenings, more individualized care and fewer people having to walk the path he did. When asked if there’s anything he’d want to share with others facing a similar diagnosis, he responded,
“Don’t read the statistics. I was facing dismal odds. If I had accepted and given in to those odds, I wouldn’t be here. You could be the exception – you could be a miracle.”
Why the Day of Hope Matters
When Andy takes the stage at this year’s Day of Hope, he represents more than survivorship. He represents what’s possible when advanced care, human connection and unwavering support come together, close to home.
“Events like this matter. The Day of Hope raises awareness, builds community and it funds the resources that saved my life. Cancer is still here and we need to keep showing up for each other.”
The Day of Hope is about making sure no one walks alone. It’s a powerful reminder that at the Harold Alfond Center for Cancer Care—and in every community touched by its reach—your walk is our walk.
Crystal Leavitt
Crystal Leavitt was ready to enjoy life.
She had a full summer of travel and fun planned and by all accounts, her life was exactly where she wanted it to be. But just as summer approached, Crystal’s world shifted. On June 25, 2024 she felt a strange, unfamiliar ache near her breast – almost like a bruise. She asked a friend, “Should I be worried?” That night, lying in bed, she felt a lump.
Suspecting an infected duct, Crystal’s primary care clinician prescribed antibiotics. She flew off to Michigan that same afternoon and then to Florida for a much-anticipated girls’ trip. “I felt so much better, I thought everything would be fine,” she recalled.
By August, the lump hadn’t gone away. She scheduled imaging, which resulted in a biopsy. On August 25, she got the call.
Breast cancer. Triple negative. Grade 3. Stage 2A. She was 30 years old.
Crystal didn’t hear much after hearing the word cancer. As the world as she knew it shattered around her, she focused on what she could control. “It was game time. I wanted to know exactly what I needed to do to get my body ready for what was to come.”
It wasn’t until she had to tell her younger siblings about her diagnosis that the impact of it really hit her. “My younger sister had already lost people to cancer – I was dreading telling her. We sobbed and then pulled it together and I made her a promise – I’m going to beat this and we’re going to ring that bell together.”
And so began Crystal’s walk.
Walking Together
Crystal’s care team at the Harold Alfond Center for Cancer Care in Augusta quickly became her second family. From her very first appointment she felt seen; not just as a cancer patient but as a person. “Dr. Polkinghorn was so kind and upbeat. He was honest that my treatment was going to be tough, but confident that it would be worth it. He had hope – and so I did too.”
Her treatment began in October: 12 weeks of chemotherapy, followed by surgery and then 25 rounds of radiation. It was grueling. There were allergic reactions. Side effects. Breakdowns on the most difficult days. And yet, every time Crystal hit a wall, someone was there to lift her up. “Even when I went to my appointments alone, I was never alone,” she said. “Everyone at the cancer center– from my nurses to the check-in staff – walked my walk with me. They cared so deeply and went out of their way to make sure I was OK.
She worked throughout treatment, strengthened by the incredible support shown to her by her students and co-workers at Jobs for Maine Graduates (JMG). On her best days, she was “normal Crystal,” showing up for others with the compassion and warmth she’s known for. Her most difficult moments were the days when she had to do both – receiving injections at the cancer center followed by a full day of work. She shared, “I hated having to be “normal Crystal” and “sick Crystal” on the same day, going from feeling strong and capable to facing the part of me that was sick.”
Asking for help doesn’t come easily for Crystal. At every turn, she tried to protect those around her from worry and moved through treatment with quiet determination. So, when her final day of radiation arrived, she hadn’t planned anything. No family, no friends, no celebration. “I hadn’t faced it yet – what I had just gone through,” she shared.
But the team at the Harold Alfond Center for Cancer Care wasn’t going to let her milestone pass by.
Honoring the Journey
That day, Dr. Drogos visited her in the treatment area – even though he wasn’t her radiation oncologist. “He told me to go outside and read the plaque and ring that bell,” she said. “To take a moment and sit with the milestone I’d just endured.”
At the same time, the radiation oncology nurses and techs had gathered pom poms. After her treatment was completed, they poured into the room, cheering her on. An employee from registration, who never let Crystal feel alone, joined them in walking to the bell. One of the cancer center’s volunteers took their photos.
“It was such a special moment,” Crystal said. “I had spent months being strong for everyone and in that moment, they were strong for me. They made me stop and honor what I had survived.”
Sharing Strength, Inspiring Hope
When Crystal takes the stage at this year’s Day of Hope, she does so not just as a cancer survivor but as a voice for every young person who never thought cancer would be a part of their story. Her presence is a tribute to the community of support around her – both at home and at the Harold Alfond Center for Cancer Care.
The Day of Hope is a celebration of that spirit. It’s a place to honor those we’ve lost, cheer on those who are fighting and build a stronger future for our cancer community through education, connection and hope.
“The Harold Alfond Center for Cancer Care walked with me through every step of my cancer journey. The Day of Hope is our chance to walk together and honor their incredible work. No one should face cancer alone and on this day, no one has to.”
To learn more, register or donate visit give.mainegeneral.org/hope.
