When I read that Ananda Lewis had died of breast cancer, I felt a deep, familiar heartbreak, followed by a sharper, more painful recognition: This didn’t have to happen.
Lewis, once a vibrant MTV VJ and media presence, publicly shared in 2020 that she had refused mammograms for years out of fear of the low-dose radiation associated with the test. When she was finally diagnosed after a self-exam, her cancer had already locally advanced to stage 3. She then turned down standard treatments recommended to her — including surgery and chemotherapy — in favor of “natural therapies” and low-dose chemotherapy at an alternative clinic in Arizona. She was only 52.
It’s easy to chalk this up to personal choice.
But as a medical oncologist, I’ve watched this scenario play out increasingly frequently: patients rejecting evidence-based care for holistic or alternative paths that promise healing without hardship. Often, they’re driven not by ignorance but by fear, confusion, and a deep sense that no one in the system is really looking out for them.
That’s not just a personal choice. It’s a systemic failure. And it’s costing lives.
We are in the middle of a disinformation epidemic. Patients come into my office asking about ivermectin, fenbendazole, and alkaline diets. Or they accept a range of chemotherapies but draw the line at an mRNA vaccine. They think I am (or Big Pharma is) somehow “withholding the cure.” The nominee for surgeon general devoted an entire chapter in her recent book to advise readers to question the motives of their physicians — stating that it is “more profitable for physicians to keep their patients sick.” These aren’t fringe beliefs anymore — they are mainstream, algorithmically amplified, and emotionally persuasive.
And let’s be honest: The U.S. health care system doesn’t work double time to earn trust. It’s fragmented, rushed, and opaque. The language is arcane, the bills are confusing to interpret, and physicians — themselves pressed for time in most clinic settings — can feel hard to reach. For too many patients, cancer care feels like being dropped into a maze without a map.
In that vacuum, misinformation steps in and offers something medicine often fails to: narrative. We now live in a time when evidence-based medicine competes, often unsuccessfully, with charismatic influencers and slick TikTok videos. Patients facing a cancer diagnosis are often more comfortable Googling their symptoms or seeking advice from Reddit than consulting an oncologist.
But these algorithms prioritize engagement over accuracy, and push conspiracy-laced content to the top of search results and social feeds. Herbs and smoothies and a positive mindset start to sound kinder, more human. But this is not science, and it is not care.
This disinformation comes at a dangerous moment, as younger Americans are getting cancer more often, and earlier. Rates of breast, colon, and even pancreatic cancers are rising in people under 40 — such that we’ve lowered the age for routine mammograms to 40 and colonoscopies to 45. Caught early, many of these cancers are highly treatable. But none of that matters if patients don’t get screened — or don’t trust what comes next.