Greg Myers: Advocating for a Strong Future for Stomach Cancer Research

Greg Myers was 49 years old when he began struggling to swallow his food. It started subtly, just a persistent sensation of food sticking in his throat and worsened over several months. He brushed it off as acid reflux. “I was getting older. I figured that was it,” he said.

But his primary care physician wasn’t convinced. She prescribed reflux medication but also referred him for an endoscopy. The procedure revealed a mass at the junction between his esophagus and stomach—the gastroesophageal junction. Three weeks later, in July 2021, Greg and his wife received the diagnosis: gastric cancer. “I didn’t even know you could live without a stomach. But that’s what they told me: we’re going to take it out,” Greg remembers.

The news was devastating. Greg didn’t Google the statistics—but his wife did. “She kept the worst of it from me,” he said. At the time, the 5-year survival rate for advanced gastric cancer was dismal.

Greg began treatment at City of Hope in Lancaster, California. Initially, the plan was to perform chemotherapy, then partial stomach removal, followed by more chemo. But during a routine research blood draw for a study at City of Hope, everything changed.

Genetic testing revealed that Greg carried the CDH1 gene mutation, which confers a high risk for hereditary diffuse gastric cancer in men and women and lobular breast cancer in women. That information altered the course of his treatment—and his family’s life.

There would be no partial removal. The surgical team informed him that to eliminate all risk of recurrence, he would need a total gastrectomy—complete removal of the stomach. “We sat in the car afterward just staring at each other,” Greg said. “It didn’t seem real.”

But the most painful part wasn’t his own diagnosis. It was what came next. Each of his two children now had a 50 percent chance of inheriting the same gene mutation. “It felt like I had handed them a death sentence. Even though it wasn’t my fault, I still felt responsible.” Both of Greg’s kids tested positive for the CDH1 mutation. The family didn’t hesitate. One after the other, they underwent prophylactic total gastrectomies. In addition, Greg’s daughter chose to undergo a double mastectomy and breast reconstruction surgery that same year, given her elevated breast cancer risk.

Between December 2021 and the end of 2022, the Myers household became a rotating recovery ward. Greg, then his son, then his daughter—each had their stomach removed, relearning how to eat and manage life post-surgery. “My wife took care of all of us,” he said. “She was the one who kept it together.”

The initial chemotherapy, called the FLOT regimen, came with side effects: cold sensitivity, painful neuropathy in his hands and feet, and fatigue. But it was manageable. Later, when his cancer returned in early 2023, Greg underwent HIPEC (hyperthermic intraperitoneal chemotherapy)—a physically grueling procedure that delivered chemotherapy directly into his abdomen.

It took a toll. Greg now lives with extensive internal scar tissue, making it difficult to stand upright or move comfortably. He wears an ostomy bag and receives daily total parenteral nutrition (TPN) through a PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter) line, sleeping connected to an IV for 16 hours a day. On top of that, he still receives zolbetuximab-clzb, an investigational therapy. So far, it’s been relatively gentle compared to prior treatments—mostly causing fatigue and occasional nausea. “Some weekends I just sleep. But I’m lucky. I know people who’ve had it worse.”

Zolbetuximab-clzb was offered after the discovery of a new nodule while his care team evaluated removal options. Traditional ablation posed too much risk to his colon, so his doctors used a novel technique—pulsed electric field therapy—to target the tumor without surgical damage. Greg awaits scan results to see if it worked.

Despite the challenges, Greg remains focused on advocacy. In 2023, Greg traveled to Washington, DC, to share his story with members of Congress and push for increased funding for stomach cancer research, an area he says is critically underfunded relative to its lethality. “We’re not asking for miracles. We’re asking for a fighting chance,” said Greg.

His message to Congress is straightforward: Gastric cancer doesn’t get enough attention or resources. “The treatment hasn’t changed in years. We’re just trying to stay alive long enough for the next drug to come out,” he said. “And that only happens with research and funding.” Greg is also urging the public to advocate for more early detection tools for stomach cancer. “Right now, most people are diagnosed late. They walk into a doctor’s office with symptoms and get told it’s acid reflux—just like I was. By the time it’s caught, it’s stage III or IV. We need endoscopies, not guesses.”

Even now, Greg’s battle isn’t over. He faces mobility limitations, extreme fatigue, and nutritional hurdles. But his kids are thriving and active—and they credit their father for showing them how to lead with strength. “You’d never know they don’t have stomachs. They’re out there living full lives,” he said.

I’m still here. I’m still fighting. And I’ll keep going as long as there’s another option to try.