Jenna Putala, 27, was trained from a young age to keep moving. Pain, rather than a warning sign, was a challenge meant to be managed and overcome on the field. A Western Massachusetts native and three-sport athlete, Putala grew up in an athletic family where she learned to push beyond physical limitations with resolve, both on and off the field.

​

This determination has come to shape her life, her career, and ultimately, her cancer diagnosis. By the time Jenna reached college at Wesleyan University, athletics had already begun to change for her. Multiple ACL tears ended her competitive career early, forcing her to redefine her role within sports. She stayed connected as a mentor, coach, and organizer — building a youth softball program, working in sports information, and eventually pursuing collegiate coaching full-time. Despite the shift in her athletic roles, her discipline and nonstop rhythm remained constant. It was this same rhythm that delayed Jenna’s diagnosis.

​

In May 2024, after years of ongoing musculoskeletal complications and pain, Jenna was diagnosed with a perivascular epithelioid cell tumor, or PEComa — an ultra-rare sarcoma so uncommon that her first hematologist admitted she had never encountered the subtype before. The uncertainty was immediate and overwhelming. Jenna was in the middle of her softball season, still recruiting, still traveling, and still trying to maintain normalcy.

​

Long before Jenna knew she had cancer, her body had been signaling that something was wrong. After four ACL knee surgeries between her sophomore year of high school and her freshman year of college, she developed sciatica — persistent, unexplained nerve pain that flared and receded over time. In 2019, during her senior year of college, she attempted a return to competitive softball. She was in exceptional physical condition, lifting heavy and training intensely, when her knee abruptly locked at a ninety-degree angle during preseason conditioning.

​

Doctors unlocked it and sent her home. The following morning, Jenna woke up unable to feel her left leg. It was cold, heavy, and losing blood flow. She was taken to Boston Children’s Hospital, where clinicians struggled to identify the cause. No scans were ordered, and she was told it resembled the opposite of phantom limb syndrome. She was instructed to do basic at-home physical therapy. Five days later, sensation returned. The episode repeated itself several more times over the following years, yet no imaging or further investigation was pursued.

​

For Jenna, this lack of urgency was not out of the ordinary. Like many young women — especially female athletes conditioned to play through pain — she had learned to trust medical authority and minimize her own concern. Chronic pain became something to accommodate around professional demands rather than something to interrogate more deeply.

​

By October 2023, that framework began to fail her. While lifting heavier than she had in years, Jenna experienced a sudden and dramatic loss of strength. Movements in her routine exercises became impossible. Her sciatica worsened, and she noticed a bump on her back. By December, the pain had become unmanageable. At her partner Brendan’s urging, she sought a second opinion and insisted on scans.

​

An MRI of her lumbar spine revealed something abnormal at the edge of the image. A subsequent MRI of her pelvis identified an eight-centimeter mass near her sciatic notch. Initial concern was osteosarcoma. It was not until she was referred to the Sarcoma Center at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute that clarity emerged and she was diagnosed with PEComa.

​

When clinicians reviewed Jenna’s medical records from a minor hip procedure in 2019, they discovered documentation describing a PEComa as “suspicious for malignancy” — a finding that had been labeled benign with clear margins at the time. Despite the rarity of Jenna’s diagnosis, her path to receiving it closely mirrors the universal hurdles faced by many sarcoma patients, including misdiagnosis and dismissal.

​

Treatment began quickly in June 2024. Jenna underwent proton beam radiation five days a week for eight weeks alongside systemic therapy. The regimen was physically demanding, requiring her to show up daily, tolerate discomfort, and trust the process. As Jenna later reflected in her interview, “My past surgeries and athletic training prepared me for this moment.”

​

Her tumors initially shrank, and she continued on targeted therapy, followed by hormone suppression when doctors suspected the tumor might be estrogen-driven. When scans later showed progression, Jenna began combination chemotherapy with docetaxel and gemcitabine. The side effects were intense and profoundly altered her sense of self. “When I began to lose my hair,” she recalled, “the reality of my cancer diagnosis really sunk in.”

​

One of Jenna’s most severe side effects was radiation recall, which caused extreme pelvic inflammation and significantly reduced her mobility. As she worked to regain it, she faced multiple hospitalizations, pulmonary embolisms, and lung metastases. In August 2025, Jenna was let go from her coaching position, as the demands of the role became impossible amid the toll cancer was taking on her body and mind.

​

Despite the constant loss and uncertainty cancer has brought to her life, Jenna anchors herself in the mantra, “Be where your feet are.” She continues to carry the resilience and discipline that have defined her both on and off the field.

​

Her athletic past, she believes, prepared her for this moment — though not in the way she once assumed. Rather than teach her to endlessly endure, her career in athletics has taught her how to adapt, how to find purpose when performance is no longer possible, and how to remain part of a team even when sidelined.

In a recent Instagram story, the former softball player wrote:

 

“You just have to get yourself there. Yesterday I was pumped full of life-saving chemicals. Did I want to go? No. Same with today. Did I want to hit the weights? No. But I got myself there and did it. I’m building strength — mentally and physically. Sometimes I lack motivation, but luckily I know the power of discipline. Do it for you.”

 

Jenna frequently shares updates on her physical condition and weightlifting, demonstrating a lifelong commitment to her mental and physical well-being despite the forces working against her.

​

Jenna’s life has always been marked by movement. When forces beyond her control slowed her body, she readapted her purpose, turning toward close friendships and small, intimate moments. “I know I’ve made a difference,” Jenna says. “I still do by reaching out to my former players and teammates. It’s something small, but it goes a long way.” She also finds joy in sitting in her recliner with the glow of her Christmas tree or sharing a quiet cup of coffee with Brendan on the deck.

​

Sometimes, purpose is as simple and as vital as noticing the small moments others often overlook. Jenna’s story reminds us that, at any point in our journey, we can redefine strength in a way that makes room for rest, uncertainty, and dependence without shame.