Owners of HYP Studio in Wellesley share story of riding out three cancer ‘rodeos’
Dennis Ozer and Debra Goodman’s story is one of resilience, scientific breakthroughs, and unwavering support. The owners of HYP Studio, a hot yoga and pilates business on Linden Street in Wellesley, are well known in the area for their long-time devotion to the health and wellness of their clients. What’s not as widely known is that for 20+ years, Dennis has been a survivor of acute myeloid leukemia (AML), an aggressive and persistent form of cancer. Good thing he has his wife Debra by his side. She’s every bit as aggressive and persistent as AML. Here is their story.
Rodeo #1—Saddle Up
Dennis and Debra divvy up the years since 2003, when Dennis first found out he was sick, into what they call “rodeos.”
“We’ve had three cancer rodeos,” Debra says. “The one thread is we hit the science, the research, the advance cures, at just the right time.”
It wasn’t long after Dennis’s initial diagnosis of myelodisplasia (an even more-serious diagnosis would come later) that he knew he had to leave his career in the large-format graphics business, working for a company that produced printed visuals for clients like Peter Pan buses, sports arenas, and retail stores. Debra, the top salesperson for the same company, stayed on with support from the corporate team. Working helped her hold on to a semblance of normalcy during a tumultuous time (although she eventually had to take a leave of absence). Working also avoided lapsed health insurance coverage—the day when Debra and Dennis received a health care bill for $1.6 million was certainly memorable. “The bill was a big as a book and detailed every treatment, every pill, every person, everything. We could have been bankrupted,” Debra says.
As Dennis started off with supportive blood treatments to address the pattern of anemia and low blood counts his primary care physician had initially noticed, he and Debra waited for an appointment at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute with Dr. Richard Stone, an expert in the field of blood diseases. It was six months before they could get in to see him, so in the meantime, Debra and Dennis concentrated on living their lives. But a no-big-deal cut Dennis got from a fall while hiking wouldn’t clot. During his workouts on the elliptical, he found himself easily fatigued and short of breath.
“The little hairs on my neck were up, the alarm bells were going off,” Debra said.
“That’s leukemia,” Dennis predicted.
When they got in to see Dr. Stone, Debra convinced him that a bone marrow biopsy was immediately necessary, as in now, not in another six months. A week later, the doctor delivered the AML diagnosis. The disease was aggressive, and Dennis needed a bone marrow transplant (now called a stem cell transplant) as soon as possible.
If that biopsy had been pushed off for six months, Debra is convinced that Dennis wouldn’t have made it.
“I always say you have caretakers who say ‘I don’t want to know anything, just make my person better.’ And then you have people like me, who want to know everything, the science. It helps that you arm yourself with the knowledge to catch that there’s something not great happening, and push for intervention.”
Dennis was admitted to the hospital for four weeks of induction chemo. He was facing the most aggressive treatment as befitted the most aggressive blood cancer. “It’s chemo, 24/7. It was hell. If they said to me ‘you gotta do this again,’ I was thinking maybe I don’t want to do this.”
He lost over 40 lb. in the hospital and emerged with a stomach lining in tatters and a stripped immune system. Next up: a bone marrow transplant.
Finding a bone marrow match proved difficult due to Dennis’s heritage. They organized drives across the country but ended up using an experimental cord-blood transplant from donors in Italy and Germany. Dennis spent five weeks in the hospital, his immune system brought down to zero in a germ-free room environment. There were some bad days, but not like his first round of chemo. It was at this time that Dennis’ innate positivity took over.
He says a positive attitude brings him through the hard times. “You have to trust your doctor and the facility you’re in. You need a great caretaker who’s really involved. Not just someone who’s making tea and bringing it to you. And a support team. Because the caretaker needs a caretaker.”
Twenty years ago, that caretaker taking care of Debra was her mom, who helped with their 8- and 15-year-old sons. In addition, their temple helped out, the school system jumped on board, and friends and additional family members rallied round.
Rodeo #2—Giddy-Up
As Dennis recovered, Debra came home one day and said she’d finally found the right spot for them to open up a pilates and yoga studio. This was a year after completing treatment, and the timing seemed right. In fact, Dennis would enjoy increased strength and good health for another decade, during which time he and Debra would open their first HYP Studio in Needham, followed by outposts in Wellesley and Medfield. Dennis credits a large part of his successful recovery to his practice of both yoga and pilates. New lease on life, new business, but same vigilance when it came to Dennis’s health.
As part of his continued wellness plan, Dennis went in for frequent blood work. Through his patient portal, Debra kept an eye on the numbers, and in 2015 didn’t like what she was seeing. In looking over the previous year of results, she noticed a slow decline in the numbers. Dennis was showing anemia.
She reached out to Dr. Joe Antin, who ordered weekly blood work. “I think we’re dealing with a relapse,” he warned.
The blood work bore out the suspicions of all. Give that Dennis and Debra were unable to find a bone marrow donor during Rodeo #1, Dr. Antin recommended a haploidentical (half-match) transplant, a type of allogeneic transplant in which exactly half of the donor’s Human Leukocyte Antigen (HLA) markers match the patient’s.
Even though this meant that their younger son Jakob, a half-match to his dad, could serve as a blood marrow donor, Debra wasn’t enthused. She’d known someone who’d gone that route and it hadn’t worked. But after following her own listen-and-research protocol, Debra was on board. “Once again, we hit the science at the right time,” she says.
For Dennis, the infusion was quick and easy. For Jakob, the donor process was decidedly less so. For five days before the donation, he received Neupogen injections to stimulate the bone marrow to release more stem cells into the bloodstream. He told his parents he hurt from the very inside, right down to his bones.
On donation day, Jakob’s blood was drawn through a needle in one arm, passed through a machine that separated the stem cells, and the remaining blood was returned through a needle in the other arm. After the several-hours process, Jakob’s stem cells were ready to be transplanted into Dennis.
Enduring the procedure was a heck of a way for Jakob to start off the summer before he entered UMass Amherst. But it saved Dennis’s life, and son got to be a tangible part of dad’s recovery process from Rodeo #2.
Rodeo #3—Whoa, now
Seriously? Another one?
Yup. Same cowboy, different rodeo. In late 2024, Debra once again noticed through the patient portal that Dennis’s number were sliding. This time a new test, flow cytometry, helped detect minimal residual disease (MRD), which meant doctors found tiny cancer cells that had been lying in wait, probably from the first rodeo.
That was the bad news, but Debra and Dennis note that once more, advances in science came just at the right time for them. Last week, Dennis received two units of blood, and his response to that treatment went well. Later this month, he’ll have a bone marrow biopsy, and expects to know soon after what additional treatment he may need.
“Until then, we’re in a bit of a holding pattern,” Debra said.
Key takeaway—don’t horse around
Debra and Dennis say getting through the past 18 years, and thriving despite the challenges, has always been about teamwork. Debra armed herself with knowledge, learned the medical language, and actively advocated for Dennis. This proactive approach was crucial in navigating the medical system. Dennis emphasized a positive attitude, trust in doctors, and the importance of a great caretaker and support team. They accepted help from their community, created additional community when they opened HYP, and kept their family-and-friends circle close.
Today Dennis is doing well, maintaining his health with pilates, though he experiences fatigue. He considers himself a medical miracle, having survived three bouts of cancer and two transplants. COVID, cancer, career changes—they’ve seen it all. To shore up cancer patients, supporters often rely on battle-fighter-warrior metaphors. Dennis and Debra themselves seem more like strategists, always looking three steps ahead, engaging when necessary, planning when prudent.
No doubt, sometimes fear crept in. “This is your damn life,” Debra once said to psych them both up.
In this next rodeo, I’m betting on Dennis Ozer and Debra Goodman, science, and the medical team at Dana Farber. There might be low moments, but as John Wayne has been credited with saying, “Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway.”
Yee-haw. It’s on.
Learn more on Dennis and Debra’s Caring Bridge page.