Editor’s note: This summer, Michele Holbrook visited her doctor with relatively minor complaints and was blindsided by what the tests ultimately showed: ovarian cancer. Holbrook and her family quickly jumped into a treatment plan, and she underwent chemotherapy and surgery the second half of this year while taking a leave of absence from her leadership role at Corning. In recent months, Holbrook, senior business program manager with Corning, former head of Corning’s Wilmington plant and a leader in regional business groups has been documenting her progress and thoughts online. Below are some excerpts of that online journal printed with her permission.
 

Sept. 18, 2025

Welcome to my electronic cancer journal. First and foremost, I want to thank each of you for your unwavering love, support and kindness. It means more than I can put into words.

I’ve decided to share regular updates about my journey to beat ovarian cancer – not just to keep you informed, but also to stay connected and draw strength from sharing this experience with you.

On June 26, 2025, I received news that changed my life: a tumor the size of a tennis ball was found on my right ovary. Since then, I’ve been diagnosed with high-grade serous carcinoma (stage 3c), started treatment at Memorial Sloan-Kettering in NYC, had a chemo port installed and am now undergoing my third round of chemotherapy in preparation for surgery followed by more chemotherapy.

It has been an intense and challenging few months, but I’ve learned that the best way forward is to take everything one day at time and place my trust in God. Through it all, I remain hopeful and focused on celebrating the wins – no matter how small they may seem.
 

Sept. 22, 2025

In my last update, I shared the details of my diagnosis. Today, I want to walk you through my treatment plan – a three-phase approach to fight this cancer head-on.

Phase I involves three-six rounds of chemotherapy. The goal is to shrink the cancer as much as possible, especially around my intestines, to make surgery safer and more effective.

Phase II will be surgery to remove my ovaries, uterus, spleen, gallbladder and any other affected tissue. It’s a major procedure, but my care team is confident it’s a critical step toward long-term recovery.

Phase III will include three more rounds of chemotherapy after surgery to target any remaining cancer cells and reduce the risk of recurrence.

After completing these three phases, I’ll enter a two-year monitoring period. Advanced stage High Grade Serous Carcinoma (HGSC) has a 70-80% recurrence rate, which is daunting, but I’m focused on the fight ahead and taking it one step at a time.
 

Oct. 2, 2025

The hardest day of my chemo cycle isn’t Day 1 – it’s today, Day 4.

On Day 1, I step into the infusion room feeling like a warrior, ready to battle the cancer head-on. There’s determination and a sense of purpose fueling me. But by Day 4, the steroids and antihistamines have worn off, and I’m left to face the full force of the chemotherapy.

It’s not just the exhaustion, the aches, the pain or the digestive issues that make Day 4 so challenging. It’s the stillness – the inability to do much of anything. I feel weak, dependent on others and stripped of my usual sense of capability. For someone who thrives on productivity and accomplishment, being idle feels awful, and yet it is exactly what my body and soul need right now. …

By releasing my need for control and allowing myself to simply rest, Day 4 has shifted. It’s still hard, but it’s no longer a battle. It’s a space for humility, for grace and for healing. And in surrendering to that, I’ve discovered that even weakness has its own quiet strength.
 

Oct. 21, 2025

As the crispness of fall settles in, I find myself reflecting on a phone call that changed my life 30 years ago. It was the fall of 1995, and I was working in Rochester, New York, at an environmental consulting firm. My days were filled with fieldwork, reports and the steady rhythm of a young engineer’s career. Then, out of the blue, my phone rang. On the other end was a headhunter presenting an opportunity I hadn’t expected – a role with Corning Incorporated in State College, Pennsylvania.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that single phone call would set me on a path that would define not only my career but also my life in so many ways. This Thursday, October 23, marks the 30th anniversary of my first day with Corning. … Corning has been more than just a workplace for me. It’s been a place of growth, discovery and opportunity. Over the years, I’ve had the chance to learn and develop, both as an engineer and as a leader. They’ve invested in me and challenged me, and I’ve grown in ways I never imagined when I first walked through those doors.

But the heart of this journey – what has truly made it incredible – is the people. The people I’ve worked with over the last three decades have been nothing short of extraordinary. … As I’ve navigated my cancer journey, their support has been nothing short of a godsend.
 

Oct. 25, 2025

Yesterday’s surgery exceeded my expectations. The chemo was very successful at killing off my cancer cells. Therefore, when I woke up in PACU, I still had my spleen, gallbladder and all my intestines! My surgeon performed a radical hysterectomy, removed my omentum and scraped my abdomen. I’ll have a long scar from the top of my belly to the bottom, but it will remind me I’m a warrior.
 

Nov. 13, 2025

It’s been almost three weeks since my surgery, and I’m happy to report my body continues to heal well. The 11-inch incision is mending beautifully, and I’m feeling stronger each day. I’ve even taken a step back into work, easing into a part-time schedule from home. It feels good to have a sense of normalcy again, even if it’s just a piece of it. … the next phase of my treatment begins: chemotherapy resumes on Friday, Nov. 21. I’ll be facing three more rounds of chemo before transitioning into the monitoring phase.

There’s a part of me that’s ready to face this final stage with determination and grit – it feels like the last big hurdle in this battle – but I’d be lying if I said I was looking forward to it. The thought of those chemicals coursing through my body again is daunting. However, I remain joyful and at peace, trusting in the process and knowing that this is all part of the path to healing. …

Thank you for walking this road with me. I’ll keep you posted as I move forward, but for now, I’m taking things one day at a time, savoring the small victories and leaning on faith for what’s ahead.