The Fight to Believe

If you had looked at Angie Binder in early 2014, you’d have seen a healthy, 31-year-old woman.

The member from Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin, was the kind of person who lit up rooms, never missed a family gathering, and kept herself active. To most, she was the picture of wellness.

Then came the lump – a strange sensation in her left armpit.

“Not painful,” she recalls. “Just … off.”

That “off” feeling turned into an ultrasound. Then a mammogram. Then a biopsy.

The biopsy uncovered a golf-ball-sized lymph node, roughly 600 times larger than the healthy pea size it was supposed to be. Then a call came on May 30, 2014 – the Friday before Memorial Day weekend – that would change her life.

Angie had non-Hodgkin lymphoma.

The battle begins

What followed that call was nothing short of a war.

Angie endured 20 rounds of chemotherapy across three different regimens before finding one that worked. She lost all her hair. Twice.

Her journey included three major infections, four surgeries, countless hospitalizations, two bone marrow transplants, radiation, and a stem cell transplant that brought its own risks and recovery. She spent 55 days in inpatient care and endured 243 days with an open surgical wound from a biopsy gone wrong.

Family support: A lifeline in dark times

Angie was tired – not because she lost hope, but because her body was worn. She didn’t want to quit, but she didn’t want to suffer either. In that quiet honesty, there was peace.

At one point, Angie’s heart stopped. She flatlined. Sepsis had flooded her bloodstream. But Angie’s story didn’t end there, even if it felt like it should have.

Her fight wasn’t over. Not even close.

Despite what seemed like a never-ending battle of setback after setback, she never let go of her will to live. Her parents became her lifeline.

She moved back in with her mom and dad. Her mother checked on her like she was a newborn, and her father held her steady when she couldn’t walk, bathe or dress herself. Through it all, Angie held tight to the belief that something was waiting for her. She just had to make it to the other side.

518 days. That’s how long she fought. And when the final treatment ended, she didn’t just walk away a survivor. She walked into something new.

Angie gave herself permission to dream again. Her new dream? Motherhood.

From diagnosis to daughter

Angie always knew she was meant to be a mom. But her cancer survival came with a cost: her fertility.

She froze her eggs before chemo started – just in case. She had no idea how long and hard the journey ahead would be. Her doctors were able to retrieve 13 eggs. Of those, 12 were mature enough to freeze. Only one became a viable embryo. She had one shot.

Eight weeks into her pregnancy, Angie’s journey ended in heartbreak – a miscarriage.

“That was my one biological shot,” she says. “After that, I knew adoption would be my path forward.”

After years of waiting (longer than her entire cancer journey), Angie met her daughter, Poppy.

“We were made for each other,” she says, voice breaking. “She is mine. In every way that matters.”

Angie’s adamant that blood doesn’t make you family. Love does. And she now holds tight to one word, her favorite word: Believe.

“Life usually doesn’t happen how we want it to,” she says, “but the way it’s supposed to.”

When her daughter arrived in late 2023, there was only one choice for her middle name – Believe. It’s a daily reminder of faith, purpose and the path that brought them together.

A community of support

Angie’s story isn’t just one of survival. It’s also a story of community and what happens after – when bills pile up, the energy runs out, and the world keeps spinning like nothing happened.

Family, friends and complete strangers came to Angie’s aid when the cost of cancer became overwhelming.

“They didn’t just help me survive,” Angie says. “They reminded me I wasn’t alone.”

Angie’s parents, brother, sister-in-law, cousin and best friend organized a fundraiser at the local bowling alley, which was packed with people who simply wanted to help. The local Modern Woodmen chapter matched a portion of the more than $40,000 in funds raised.

Chapter members in the area supported the event by donating silent auction items and spending money at the fundraiser. Most had never met Angie before. Even the DJ was a Modern Woodmen member who donated his services.

Modern Woodmen also helped Angie keep her life insurance in force when finances got tight. Angie applied for and received assistance through the Fraternal Aid Fund. (Now called the Financial Relief Fund, this member benefit covers life insurance premiums for up to six months during times of severe financial hardship.) Due to the length and severity of her condition, Angie was later able to enact the waiver of premium rider on her plan – covering costs while she was considered disabled.

Life after cancer

Today, Angie is passionate about giving back. She mentors newly diagnosed patients and volunteers with the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

“I tell them what I wish someone had told me,” she says. “It’s OK to ask for help. It’s not a sign of weakness, but strength.”

Angie is living proof that life after cancer isn’t just possible – it can be extraordinary.

She’s a survivor. A mother. An advocate. Through it all, she’s held on. Her resilience and the belief that life unfolds as it should keep her going. From the hardest days in the hospital to the joy of motherhood, she’s found purpose in the process.

Although the path was nothing like she imagined, it led her to exactly where she was meant to be.

Friends and finances

Modern Woodmen financial representative Taren Sartler played a unique role during Angie’s cancer journey – balancing financial guidance and friendship.

“We had to talk about everything from life insurance to final wishes to whether she should dip into retirement savings,” Taren says. “That’s not easy when you’re talking to someone you love. I reserved the tears for after the planning conversations.”

Angie and Taren have been friends since their 20s, growing through career changes, life detours, and the kind of perspective that comes only when life reminds you it’s fragile. As close as sisters, they talk nearly every day, leaning on each other through every season.

“Mortality isn’t something most of us think about until we’re faced with it,” Taren says. “Have the difficult conversations. Plan for what might come. Support your loved ones with what they need, big or small. Every moment counts. Find gratitude in the journey and peace in their decisions.”