When Cancer Takes Our Heroes: A Survivor's Reflection on Catherine O'Hara and James Van Der Beek

First Catherine O’Hara on January 30th, then James Van Der Beek just days ago on February 11th. Both gone from colorectal cancer. Both far too soon. And as a two-time cancer survivor myself, their deaths don’t just make me sad. They terrify me.

Catherine O’Hara was 71 when a pulmonary embolism caused by rectal cancer took her life. She’d been in treatment since March 2025, though like so many cancer patients, she kept her battle private. James Van Der Beek was only 48— a decade younger than I am—when stage 3 colorectal cancer claimed him after a courageous two-and-a-half-year fight that he chose to share publicly, raising awareness and funds through auctioning his Dawson’s Creek memorabilia when treatment costs mounted.

Here’s what should get everyone’s attention: Van Der Beek was in “amazing cardiovascular shape.” He was doing cold plunges. He was the picture of health. And still, he had stage 3 cancer. His only symptom? A slight change in bowel movements that he attributed to coffee. That’s it. That’s the insidious nature of this disease.

As someone who’s been through the cancer gauntlet twice, I know that hypervigilance that comes with survivorship. Every unexplained pain, every unusual symptom sends your mind racing to the darkest places. Reading about Van Der Beek’s experience—how he noticed “even just the slightest little change” and pursued screening—validates what I preach to everyone: listen to your body and don’t dismiss subtle signals.

The statistics are chilling. Colorectal cancer is now the leading cause of cancer-related death among adults under age 50 in the United States. Public health experts dropped the screening age to 45 because cases are surging among younger people. Van Der Beek thought screening still started at 50. That misunderstanding may have cost him precious time.

What strikes me most about both of these losses is how they underscore a truth I’ve lived: cancer doesn’t care about your resume, your fitness level, or your plans. O’Hara gave us Moira Rose on Schitt’s Creek and countless moments of joy. Van Der Beek was Dawson Leery to a generation. They had families, careers, and so much more to give. Cancer took them anyway.

But their deaths can serve a purpose if we let them. Van Der Beek used his platform to amplify a message I’ve been shouting from every finish line: “Don’t think that not having symptoms means you don’t have to get screened, especially for something that is this curable when caught early.” He’s right. With a 91% five-year survival rate when caught at localized stages, early detection saves lives.

For those of us in the survivor community, these deaths are personal reminders of our own mortality and the lottery we won simply by catching our cancers when we did and having access to treatment. They remind us that “No Evidence of Disease” doesn’t mean “Never Again.” They underscore why I train for triathlons and write about cancer—because every day above ground is a gift, and every mile matters.

To everyone reading this: if you’re 45 or older, schedule your colonoscopy. If you notice changes—any changes, even ones that seem insignificant—talk to your doctor. Don’t wait. Don’t rationalize. Don’t assume you’re too healthy or too young.

Catherine and James can’t tell their stories anymore. So we survivors carry that responsibility forward, honoring their memories by refusing to let their deaths be in vain.

Get screened. Stay vigilant. Live fully.

PS: If you haven’t picked up my book yet, please check it out. If you have read it, think about grabbing a copy for someone else.