From Fear to Joy: My Cancer Journey and the Red Rocks Revelation

By Julie Stevens, Founder of MOJO Health

Red Rocks Amphitheater, June 2025

The words hung in the air like smoke after a fire: "I think you have colon cancer. You need to see a surgeon immediately"

I remember sitting in the recovery room after my colonoscopy, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, and feeling the ground shift beneath me. For about 72 hours, I did exactly what you'd expect someone to do after receiving that kind of news. I researched. I called specialists. I started building my medical team with the intensity of a general preparing for war.

Those first few days were a blur of phone calls and medical journals. I reached out to colon cancer survivors—strangers who became lifelines, sharing their stories with remarkable generosity. I wanted to understand what separated the thrivers from the survivors, what made some people not just endure their cancer journey but emerge stronger on the other side.

But then something shifted.

I was sitting at my kitchen table, surrounded by printouts of treatment protocols and survival statistics, when I realized I was drowning in my own research. The fear was consuming me, and I was letting it drive every decision. That's when I made what might have seemed like an impulsive choice, but was actually the most strategic decision of my entire treatment journey, I decided to go to Red Rocks to see Widespread Panic, my favorite band.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Most people facing a cancer diagnosis don't immediately head out for a concert trip. But hear me out—this wasn't escapism. This was a declaration of war against fear itself.

Red Rocks has always been my sacred space. There's something about that natural amphitheater, carved into the Colorado mountains, that puts everything in perspective. And Widespread Panic? They're not just my favorite band; they're the soundtrack to some of my life's most joyful moments. If I was going to fight cancer, I was going to do it from a place of joy, not terror.

The moment I clicked "purchase" on the tickets, flights and place to stay, everything changed. I wasn't planning my funeral anymore—I was planning my life. I was choosing to live in joy rather than exist in fear, and that shift became the foundation of everything that followed.

This decision to prioritize joy didn't mean I stopped taking my diagnosis seriously. If anything, it made me a better advocate for myself. When you're operating from a place of joy and hope rather than fear and desperation, you make clearer decisions. You ask better questions. You don't accept the first answer if it doesn't feel right.

Joy gave me courage. Fear would have made me compliant.

I remember walking into my surgeon's office a week later, and instead of being the terrified patient asking "What do I do?", I was the empowered woman saying "Here's what I've learned, here's what I want to explore, and here's how I think we can work together." The difference was profound.

That concert at Red Rocks—which I did make it to, by the way—became a celebration rather than a goodbye. Dancing under the stars, surrounded by music and friends, I felt more alive than I had in years. Cancer had given me an unexpected gift: clarity about what truly mattered.

This experience became the seed for MOJO Health. I realized that our healthcare system is built around fear—fear of symptoms, fear of diagnoses, fear of asking questions. But what if we flipped that script? What if we approached our health from a place of joy, curiosity, and empowerment?

That is what MOJO Stands for - MOre JOy.

When you're not living in fear, you become your own best advocate. You research not from a place of desperation, but from genuine curiosity. You ask questions not because you're panicked, but because you deserve answers. You make decisions based on hope and possibility rather than worst-case scenarios.

Fear whispers "What if this kills me?" Joy asks "How can I live fully while I'm healing?"

I'm not suggesting toxic positivity or pretending cancer isn't serious. What I'm advocating for is the radical act of refusing to let fear be your primary decision-maker - I call it Joyfiance. The act of being fear defiant by choosing joy. Because when fear is in the driver's seat, you become a passenger in your own healthcare journey.

Today, as I work with MOJO Health to help others navigate their health challenges, I carry that Red Rocks lesson with me. We're not just treating symptoms or managing conditions—we're helping people reclaim their agency, their voice, and yes, their joy.

Your health journey doesn't have to be defined by fear. It can be defined by curiosity, empowerment, and the radical belief that you deserve to live fully, even in the midst of challenge.

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do when facing a health crisis is buy concert tickets. Not because you're running away from reality, but because you're running toward life.

And that, my friends, changes everything.

May you live long and lucky