Katina Strong: Girlfriend's Cancer Diagnosis Shook Mark Byington. Now They're Sharing Their Story.

NASHVILLE — The text hit Mark Byington’s phone on a Wednesday night in late January, the day after Vanderbilt beat Kentucky at Memorial Gym by 25 points while Byington wore a Coaches vs. Cancer patch on his left arm.

Call me when you have a chance.

It was from his girlfriend, Katina Kangelaris, who acknowledges the intense nature of her text. But–as Byington would soon learn–the circumstances warranted her sending it.

Kangelaris had undergone a colonoscopy the day before. Byington checked in with her a few hours before his team took the floor against Kentucky, but didn’t get any definitive answers. She was vague, telling him that she was starving and that she was still waiting to receive the results of a biopsy.

In reality, Kangelaris’ life had just changed forever. A few hours prior, she was diagnosed with Stage 4 Colon Cancer.

Kangelaris suspected she might have Crohn's Disease. She was wrong. It was a tumor. Kangelaris is an oncology sales specialist and knew the significance right away; she had the most severe type of Colon Cancer, one that has a 10-15% five-year survival rate. She also knew that it would be better to give Byington one more night before his world was wrecked.

“I didn’t have the heart to tell him,” Kangelaris told Vandy on SI. “I knew he was going through a lot with his career and losing power at his house.”

Kangelaris knew she couldn’t keep this a secret from Byington for long, though. She knew that she was going to rip the band-aid off on Jan. 28. On this night, though, she wanted her boyfriend to believe that beating Kentucky was the most pressing matter in his life.

Byington manned the sideline all night focused solely on his duties. When he arrived at the postgame press conference, he appeared as loose as can be — as evidenced by a joke he cracked about Kentucky fans’ inevitable trips to Broadway and a lighthearted evaluation of his in-office living situation as a result of a winter storm. It was classic Byington. And looking back, watching that seven-minute media availability is all but foreboding. It represented the calm before the storm, and Byington didn’t yet know it.

Meanwhile, Kangelaris watched from Virginia and tried not to let the cloud of her diagnosis overcome her. If she were looking for the game to be a distraction, she’d have no such luxury. She quickly realized this was the night of the annual Coaches vs. Cancer promotion.

In the moments after her diagnosis, Kangelaris’ father–who is a Greek Orthodox priest–sobbed on the ride home and declared that he wished this were happening to him instead of his daughter. Soon, Byington would be subjected to a similar devastation.

He had just sent Kangelaris pictures of his cat–named Trip, who his son Chase unfortunately named after now-traded Memphis Grizzlies star Jaren Jackson Jr. The texts were lighthearted in nature, but opened the door for Kangelaris to request a call.

When the text went through, Byington picked up the phone immediately. Kangelaris admits that she couldn’t get through the call without crying. She says that Byington was calm, but that he understood the magnitude of the situation. In the days following the diagnosis, Byington wrote Kangelaris a card saying that no matter where the journey takes them, he’d be there for her.

“You’re a fighter,” Byington told her on the call. “You’re gonna fight this and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Mark Byington — Byington (middle) and Kangelaris have stuck together in the fight against Colon Cancer. | Vanderbilt athletics

For a number of games throughout the second half of Vanderbilt’s 27-9 season, there’s a memory—a painful one, one that could have become crippling if Byington let it.

Vanderbilt’s win over Kentucky will forever be tied to the diagnosis. Its bye week was defined by Byington flying to Virginia and back to check on Kangelaris. Byington will always remember preparing for Vanderbilt’s NCAA Tournament game against McNeese while checking in on Kangelaris’ first round of Chemotherapy, too.

Even in the days that didn’t provide a distinctive memory, there was a cloud hanging over Byington’s daily life. He was in the midst of perhaps the most successful year of his professional life and was tasked with keeping everything afloat without distracting anyone else involved. He could only hold it together for so long, though.

“Every time I got in my car, I would start crying,” Byington said. “It was just such an unusual perspective in my job to where I would have to help her, deal with myself and then I'd have to go out and lead a team and then act like nothing was going on. It was so unusual to me. My dad passed away last November, but this was a whole different circumstance of things I had to deal with.”

Byington just couldn’t wrap his mind around how something like this could happen to someone like Kangelaris. Everything about her has to do with helping and investing in others, yet she’s being subjected to something so cruel. He was tasked with stomaching that while aiming to architect an NCAA Tournament run and to inspire better performance out of young people.

The difficulties that Byington faced, though, couldn’t compare to what Kangelaris had to face each day in her difficult reality. Kangelaris has made a point to inform her sons about cancer and answer questions to eliminate their concerns. She’s internalized that tomorrow is never promised and has spoken with her parents about wishes–although everyone around the situation is confident that she won’t need to worry about that.

Kangelaris was initially angry following the diagnosis. She says she went into panic mode to make sure that when she beats this, there’s a reduced risk of recurrence and that she’s protecting her children. The thought of controlling what she could caused Kangelaris to spiral, she says.

She’s gotten to the point of acceptance, though, and has realized that she’ll never know why this happened to her. Now, she has a weight off her shoulders. She’s fully focused on fighting the disease and being present.

“The silver lining of all this is that I’ve really had the opportunity–and it goes both ways–to tell people what they mean to me or how they’ve impacted or changed my life,” Kangelaris said. “I’m making sure that I take the opportunity to reach out and let people know how I feel about them.”

The reflection that Kangelaris has embarked on manifests itself daily in her life. She goes out of her way to say how incredible Byington has been to her as her rock throughout a busy season of his life. The gratefulness flows off her as she addresses the compassion and concern her biological sons Hunter and Blake as well as Chase–who she also identifies as her own son–have shown for her.

Byington has undergone a reflection of his own as a result of how life has twisted and turned for him and his girlfriend of five years. He is a self-described “huge” multitasker and jokes that he’s often doing 30 things at once, but he’s realized that it’s important to be present mentally when he’s around Kangelaris or talking to her on the phone. Byington isn’t dropping the demands of his job, but he’s learned that it can wait a second.

Kangelaris and Byington have a life to live. They have memories to make and moments to be present for. Kangelaris wasn’t cleared to lift a suitcase, but she surprised her sons with a trip to Nashville for all three of Vanderbilt’s SEC Tournament games–where she sat in the front row behind the Vanderbilt bench. Kangelaris still works in oncology, too.

She says the hardest adjustment for her has been that she has had to miss a number of Vanderbilt games because of the disease. Ever since she met Byington five years ago—while he was coaching at James Madison—she’s been in the gym often. Since he’s been at Vanderbilt, Kangelaris has made a tradition of flying to Vanderbilt on weekends in order to catch games. She’s had to alter some travel plans after the diagnosis, but don’t get it twisted; she’s not planning to stay away from Memorial Gymnasium for long.

“What’s been really hard is missing out on my life and missing out on life with [Byington], too,” Kangelaris said. “But, I keep telling myself that it’s only temporary.”

Draw up the person who appears least likely to have something like this happen to them, and Kangelaris looks a whole lot like the person who would come up.

She’s 45 years old, makes it a point to eat healthy, works out, is a mother of two—and considers Byington’s son Chase her own—and has a job in the medical field. It’s a busy lifestyle, but one that involves her checking most of the boxes that would indicate that something like this was unlikely. She had no family history of colon cancer, either.

This disease doesn’t discriminate, though.

Until now, Kangelaris has shared her story with only a few close friends and family members. She wants it out there now, though.

“It shows that this can happen to anyone,” Kangelaris said. “I feel like we're in this lifestyle where everyone's so busy, it's dual income, both people working and it's just a reminder that people need to pay attention to their health and make themselves a priority. We need to feel like you can ask for help when you need something. For me it's just about creating awareness.”

Colon cancer increasingly affects younger adults, with cases rising by over 2 percent annually in those under 50. Forty-five percent of new cases now occur in adults under 65. Colon cancer is now the leading cause of cancer death in men under 50 and second in women, despite a decrease in older adults. The age at which colonoscopies are recommended has changed from 50 to 45–and even younger for those who have a family history

Kangelaris has already seen the benefits of her intent to spread the word. One of her brother’s friends received a colonoscopy–which is one of four ways to get screened for Colon Cancer–as a result of her case, and he found that he had pre-cancerous polyps that he was able to get removed prior to them having any ill effects.

That friend is one of many who have been motivated to get tested as a result of Kangelaris’ case and is the first of what she hopes is a number of people to benefit from hearing her story. Kangelaris and Byington both make it clear that this isn’t about getting her story out there as much as it is about spreading the word of this cruel disease and its severity. It’s also about the importance of getting screened.

Vanderbilt’s assistants could tell that something was off with Byington in the weeks following Kangelaris’ diagnosis, and he felt that he couldn’t hide it from them any longer. When he finally shared what was going on with them, he went around the room and asked who had had a colonoscopy and who hadn’t. “I don’t care if you come to work tomorrow, we’re getting it done,” Byington told them.

Byington has been rigid with his friends and family in making sure they get tested. He says he hasn’t given them an option, out of love.

“It's just one of those things where it’s happening to people at a more unusual rate than it used to, and the only chance is catching it early,” Byington said. “I never thought this would be something that I would want to do or want to be in a situation to do, but with the personal part of it and then seeing her going through it–and I know how she's built to help other people. I knew that using this platform to help other people would be something that could be a positive in a really tough situation.”

Byington is a self-described private person who has generally kept his family out of the public eye in an effort to protect them. This time, though, he’s going out of his way to lay it all out on the table. He knows it can help.

“Everybody’s private until you have a story that can potentially impact another human being,” Zubuks–a board-certified medical oncologist with Tennessee Oncology, who has advised Kangelaris throughout the process–said. “I think what they want is desperately to not see another human being have to endure what they have to go through. If somebody reads this and has had some bowel issues and goes to get scoped and they catch a Stage 1 Colon Cancer early stage, then you’ve likely saved a life.”

Mike Kangelaris compares the moment to someone putting all their weight on his chest and taking his breath away while doing so. He was angry. He was fearful. He just couldn’t understand why something like this happened to someone like his sister.

The feelings were compelling enough for him that he decided he had to do something to help.

After a few days of deliberation, Mike opted to step away from his role as a NeuroPysch Executive Sales Specialist in North Carolina. He was set on going to Virginia to serve as a helping hand to his sister. Kangelaris’ parents relocated to Virginia a year prior to be in closer proximity to Kangelaris and her sons, but Mike wanted to take some things off their plate.

“What an unbelievable sacrifice he’s made,” she says.

These days, Mike jokes that he’s a “ridiculously good” driver because of his duties as Katina’s sons’ chauffeur. His informal duties also include mowing the lawn and making sure that everyone is well fed. Katina is proactive and isn’t one to be waited around on, but she has a helper in-house if she needs it.

“I can get another job, but I can’t get another sister,” he said. “I'm very fortunate to be able to step aside and focus on what's more important at this moment. It was a pretty easy concept.”

Mike says that his bosses have been understanding and have worked well with him throughout this time period, but he likely wouldn’t have changed all that much if they hadn’t been. This is life now for this family. None of them would have chosen it, but it would be unlike them to let Kangelaris fight this alone.

Zubuks only met the family once–at the SEC Tournament–but he repeatedly emphasizes the idea that he believes Kangelaris has a strong support system and a number of people in her corner cheering her on. He says the situation is devastating for families, but appears encouraged by what he’s seeing around Kangelaris.

“I think having a support group which obviously Katina does is absolutely critical,” Zubkus said. “I think there's a direct correlation with how people do and with their support system. She's got a lot of people in her corner that are helping her.”

Byington was connected to Zubuks through Brad Allen–the father of incoming Vanderbilt walk-on Baylor Allen–and he put him in contact with Kangelaris. He’s a longtime Vanderbilt basketball fan–who says his three favorite moments are Shan Foster’s heroic Senior Day showing, Corey Smith’s last-second winner over Wichita State in the 2005 NIT, Vanderbilt’s 41-point win over Kentucky in 2008 and Tyrin Lawrence’s buzzer beater against Tennessee.

Kangelaris consulted with Zubuks before enrolling in a clinical trial at Duke—which is considered to the gold standard of Colon Cancer treatment as well as an investigational pill targeting her specific mutation–which is part of the trial–that doesn’t yet have a therapy. She hopes that the pill gets approved so that others with her same mutation can be effectively treated.

Duke is two and a half hours away from Kangelaris’ Virginia home. Between that commute–which she makes once a week–the pills she has to take every day and the chemotherapy she’s undergoing every other week, life can be overwhelming.

A number of others have stepped up to make it less so, though.

The Coaches vs. Cancer patch that Byington wore that fateful January night was removed from his white quarterzip and placed on his dresser that night, and it still hasn’t moved. It’s not as if he hasn’t noticed it there, but for one reason or another he hasn’t brought himself to pick it up and move it.

For a few weeks, Byington had a difficult time moving. He couldn’t figure out how to put one foot in front of the other. Byington always figured out a way to get through what he needed to, but it was often a grueling test of willpower.

When he could get through a day, it was almost always a result of what he took away from his last phone call with Kangelaris.

“It would almost inspire me, her strength and her optimism,” Byington said. “She would take it on as a challenge and be like ‘alright, I don't know why this happened to me, but I want to overcome it and then If I ever was feeling any certain way, and I talk to her, it'll always give me more strength.”

Stage 4 Cancer is cruel, but it’s yet to take Kangelaris’ spirit. In a 32-minute conversation with Kangelaris and Byington, there’s no feeling of a dark cloud hanging over their head. The word death wasn’t uttered once.

Fear doesn’t align with Kangelaris and how she’s choosing to approach this. She’s not going to characterize her fight that way, either.

“I just want people to know that even if it's Stage 4, there's still hope,” Kangelaris said. “I mean, we're in a time in our lives where there's so many advancements and medications and oncology. That’s why I'm fighting as hard as I am.”

The word that often pops up regarding Kangelaris in this stage of her life; determined. Determined to beat this. Determined to use her trials to ensure that others don’t have to go through what she has. Determined to be the same old Katina.

As Kangelaris’ brother addresses the future and why he believes his sister will get her way, he pays her similar compliments by calling her stubborn and confident. He says stubbornness can work in your favor in a situation like this. He’s been able to convince her of one thing, though.

When he runs the Richmond half-marathon in November to raise money for cancer research, she’s going to join him for the last 100 or so yards. They’ll cross the finish line together and make it a celebration.

“I'm really hopeful and my motivation to live in life is to watch our three boys grow up and to have my future with Mark that we've always talked about, planned,” Kangelaris said. “I also want to help people. I'm hoping that getting this information out can help people.”

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