Meet the Models: Katie Dexter

When Katie heard the words “breast cancer,” she wasn’t shocked—but that didn’t make it any less devastating.

“Because of my mom’s diagnosis, I always knew this could be part of my story too. But even with that in the back of my mind, nothing truly prepares you to hear those words.”

In that moment, her mind flooded with questions: What stage is it? How do I tell the kids? Am I going to die?

“Everything paused. The world kept spinning, but I was suddenly still.”

The most vivid memory for Katie wasn’t the diagnosis itself—it was telling her daughters, Amelia and Kendall. That moment, that decision, held more weight than anything.

“I wanted to protect them, but I also wanted to be honest. I wanted them to know I was going to be okay — even before I fully knew it myself.”

And then something beautiful happened. Support arrived like a wave.

“My sister, my friends, my colleagues, neighbors... they just showed up. Food, rides, hugs, gift cards, notes, flowers, emails. Every little thing helped. I felt surrounded. I felt held.”

Katie navigated treatment in her own way—physically present, emotionally distant.

“I’m not going to lie—I disassociated a bit. I showed up to appointments, but I was on autopilot. My sister came with me, took notes, asked the questions. I just tried not to fall apart.”

She asked her husband to stay home—not because she didn’t want him there, but because she needed the girls to feel anchored, like someone was still steering the ship.

“Would I do it differently? I don’t think so. I did what I had to do—for me and for them. That was my strength, even if it didn’t look traditional.”

There are things Katie carries with her still: the memory of the drive-through mastectomy, the six-month oncology visits that stop life for a moment and remind her of everything she’s been through.

“That’s the reality of survivorship. A check-in every six months that comes with a full-body flashback.”

But Katie is clear about what she’s learned—and what she wants others to know.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Don’t hide. People are going to wonder anyway, so share your story, your worries, your diagnosis—all of it. Then let people help you.”

She knows how easy it is to say “I’m fine” and carry the weight alone. But she urges others not to.

“You don’t have to go through it alone—and you shouldn’t. Let your people in.”

Her advice for those supporting someone through cancer is just as poignant:

“Please don’t share horror stories. Don’t try to fix it. Don’t offer advice unless you’re asked. Just listen—without judgment.”

Katie’s story is one of quiet courage, maternal instinct, and deep connection. At Runway for Recovery, we celebrate her honesty, her fierce love, and the way she teaches us all what it means to show up—even when you're the one who needs holding.