‘Babe' Actress Magda Szubanski Reveals Stage 4 Cancer Diagnosis

Magda Szubanski warmed hearts with her layered and endearing performance in the award-winning 1995 film 'Babe.' Today, the Australian comedic actress sports a shaved head, a far cry from the grey-haired updo she wore when playing the farmer's wife in the wholesome pig-led comedy-drama.
Szubanski was recently diagnosed with stage 4 cancer—a very rare and very aggressive type of blood disease known as mantle cell lymphoma. Affecting roughly 1 in 200,000 people each year, there is currently no cure for this form of non-Hodgkin lymphoma, but treatments may help manage symptoms, the Mayo Clinic

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Yahoo

7 hours ago

• Yahoo

After her heart started to fail, a first-of-its-kind surgery saved her life

Sue Baker was used to spending time in the hospital. She had started having heart troubles in 2015, and as the issue escalated, she spent more and more time in the hospital. She had a pacemaker implanted to keep her heart beating. Once, she spent five days in a coma. In 2019, as her heart function continued to fail, Baker received a left ventricular assist device, or LVAD, a mechanical pump that helps the heart's left ventricle circulate blood throughout the body. For years, Baker lived on "batteries and electricity," but she didn't stop living her life. She married a man she loved, and they started building a life together in southeast Georgia. However, she knew the LVAD was only a stopgap measure, and wanted to make sure she was living a full life before her health declined further. Four years after getting the LVAD, Baker started having dangerous heart rhythms. She was admitted to the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, Florida, and was added to the transplant list to await a new heart. For months, the 58-year-old waited, often receiving painful shocks from her LVAD and pacemaker as they tried to keep her heart functioning. Her body was also producing too many antibodies, which put her at high risk for rejecting any organs she received. Her transplant cardiologist, Dr. Pareg Patel, tested multiple medications, including chemotherapies, to reduce the antibodies. The process was "very scary," she said. One day, Patel came to her with another option: She could have a liver transplant, in addition to the new heart. It might solve the antibody problem. There was just one catch: A heart-liver transplant had never been done in someone with an LVAD before. Her other option was palliative care. "We got to talking about it, and I was like 'You're not going to know unless somebody agrees to do this. There's not much choice, really,'" Baker recalled. "It was going to be an experiment one way or the other." A first-of-its-kind transplant The liver is "like sponges that take down these antibodies," Patel explained. Sometimes, livers are transplanted alongside hearts to lower the risk of rejection. But the procedure means a patient needs to wait until a heart and liver are available from the same donor. Some people die on the waiting list, Patel said. But for Baker, it was the best option. "It's a story where we were able to find an out-of-the-box solution for somebody who I can guarantee you two years ago we would have said no to and put them in hospice," Patel said. "She had less than probably six months to live in, more likely three months." Baker spent months in the hospital, continuing to receive painful shocks from her LVAD and pacemaker. She had other complications, including diagnoses of COVID-19 and pneumonia. In September 2024, she finally received word that a heart and liver were available to her. "I was shocked," Baker said. "I was so excited." Patel said he and his team anticipated that the surgery would be "challenging" and "very high risk" because of Baker's health complications but everyone believed it was the best possible option. Baker would also be donating her "perfectly healthy" liver to another patient, Patel said, in what's known as a domino operation. "I think the cool part of this is for Sue, is that by using this technology, number one, we were able to prove that by placing a liver and a heart from somebody is we're able to make antibodies go close to zero," Patel explained. "And number two, we were able to have Sue become not only a recipient of two organs, but also a donor in the same day." Blazing a path for other patients After her surgery, Baker said she had a long recovery, but spent her time in the hospital bonding with other patients. She tried to be a voice of optimism for other people waiting for transplants, she said. She also received a letter from the person who received her liver. After Baker recovered and left the hospital in October 2024, she was eager to resume her life in Georgia, but tragedy struck: Her husband died from a sudden cardiac arrest just weeks later. Burdened by medical bills and funeral expenses, her financial situation spiraled. She said her housing is now unstable, and most spare money goes to flying to regular check-ups at the Mayo Clinic. A GoFundMe has only raised a few hundred dollars. Patel said Baker will need frequent check-ups and medication to maintain her new organs. Mayo Clinic said it offers financial assistance and payment plan options, as well as financial counseling to patients who are uninsured or underinsured. Baker said she is leaning on her church for emotional support and other aid. She has a caretaker, Charlene, who helps with day-to-day life. She also hopes that her taking part in the first-of-its-kind surgery will allow more people to receive lifesaving treatment, and said the thought brings her some solace. Patel said that another surgery like Baker's was already conducted, and that another is in the works. "If it weren't for her, these other two patients would have no opportunity," Patel said. "Doing what I did, it opened it up for so many more patients," Baker said. "It made me very happy to know that more LVAD patients will be able to go through this and actually have a long chance at life." Iran and Israel exchange fire; Israel intensifies air assault on Gaza Columbia activist Mahmoud Khalil released on bail Trump continues to weigh U.S. intervention in Iran

CBS News

7 hours ago

• CBS News

After her heart started to fail, a first-of-its-kind surgery saved her life

Sue Baker was used to spending time in the hospital. She had started having heart troubles in 2015, and as the issue escalated, she spent more and more time in the hospital. She had a pacemaker implanted to keep her heart beating. Once, she spent five days in a coma. In 2019, as her heart function continued to fail, Baker received a left ventricular assist device, or LVAD, a mechanical pump that helps the heart's left ventricle circulate blood throughout the body. For years, Baker lived on "batteries and electricity," but she didn't stop living her life. She married a man she loved, and they started building a life together in southeast Georgia. However, she knew the LVAD was only a stopgap measure, and wanted to make sure she was living a full life before her health declined further. Four years after getting the LVAD, Baker started having dangerous heart rhythms. She was admitted to the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, Florida, and was added to the transplant list to await a new heart. For months, the 58-year-old waited, often receiving painful shocks from her LVAD and pacemaker as they tried to keep her heart functioning. Her body was also producing too many antibodies, which put her at high risk for rejecting any organs she received. Her transplant cardiologist, Dr. Pareg Patel, tested multiple medications, including chemotherapies, to reduce the antibodies. The process was "very scary," she said. One day, Patel came to her with another option: She could have a liver transplant, in addition to the new heart. It might solve the antibody problem. There was just one catch: A heart-liver transplant had never been done in someone with an LVAD before. Her other option was palliative care. "We got to talking about it, and I was like 'You're not going to know unless somebody agrees to do this. There's not much choice, really,'" Baker recalled. "It was going to be an experiment one way or the other." Sue Baker in the hospital with her caretaker, Charlene. Sue Baker A first-of-its-kind transplant The liver is "like sponges that take down these antibodies," Patel explained. Sometimes, livers are transplanted alongside hearts to lower the risk of rejection. But the procedure means a patient needs to wait until a heart and liver are available from the same donor. Some people die on the waiting list, Patel said. But for Baker, it was the best option. "It's a story where we were able to find an out-of-the-box solution for somebody who I can guarantee you two years ago we would have said no to and put them in hospice," Patel said. "She had less than probably six months to live in, more likely three months." Baker spent months in the hospital, continuing to receive painful shocks from her LVAD and pacemaker. She had other complications, including diagnoses of COVID-19 and pneumonia. In September 2024, she finally received word that a heart and liver were available to her. Sue Baker in the hospital on her birthday. Sue Baker "I was shocked," Baker said. "I was so excited." Patel said he and his team anticipated that the surgery would be "challenging" and "very high risk" because of Baker's health complications but everyone believed it was the best possible option. Baker would also be donating her "perfectly healthy" liver to another patient, Patel said, in what's known as a domino operation. "I think the cool part of this is for Sue, is that by using this technology, number one, we were able to prove that by placing a liver and a heart from somebody is we're able to make antibodies go close to zero," Patel explained. "And number two, we were able to have Sue become not only a recipient of two organs, but also a donor in the same day." Blazing a path for other patients After her surgery, Baker said she had a long recovery, but spent her time in the hospital bonding with other patients. She tried to be a voice of optimism for other people waiting for transplants, she said. She also received a letter from the person who received her liver. After Baker recovered and left the hospital in October 2024, she was eager to resume her life in Georgia, but tragedy struck: Her husband died from a sudden cardiac arrest just weeks later. Burdened by medical bills and funeral expenses, her financial situation spiraled. She said her housing is now unstable, and most spare money goes to flying to regular check-ups at the Mayo Clinic. A GoFundMe has only raised a few hundred dollars. Patel said Baker will need frequent check-ups and medication to maintain her new organs. Mayo Clinic said it offers financial assistance and payment plan options, as well as financial counseling to patients who are uninsured or underinsured. Sue Baker and her care team. (L-R) - Dr. Daniel Yip, Dr. Juan Carlos Leoni Moreno, Sue Baker, Dr. Parag Patel, Dr. Rohan Goswami. Mayo Clinic Baker said she is leaning on her church for emotional support and other aid. She has a caretaker, Charlene, who helps with day-to-day life. She also hopes that her taking part in the first-of-its-kind surgery will allow more people to receive lifesaving treatment, and said the thought brings her some solace. Patel said that another surgery like Baker's was already conducted, and that another is in the works. "If it weren't for her, these other two patients would have no opportunity," Patel said. "Doing what I did, it opened it up for so many more patients," Baker said. "It made me very happy to know that more LVAD patients will be able to go through this and actually have a long chance at life."

Boston Globe

9 hours ago

• Boston Globe

Mass. Black therapists trying to diversify the workforce face an uphill battle

Advertisement 'We took the good and left the bad, and helped create this,' Labissiere, one of the clinic's cofounders, said from the Hyde Park Avenue office. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up Labissiere and Wynn are rarities in this grueling industry: Black clinicians who have stuck around and own their own practice. The Child and Family Wellness Center isone of just a few Black-owned behavioral health practices in Massachusetts. In interviews with the Globe, 10 Black mental health care providers, advocates, and public officials agreed several systemic barriers keep the workforce from diversifying. The deep-seated stigma of mental illness among Black people, the time and financial costs of finishing school, and the biases embedded in the field's license exams are roadblocks for diversifying the workforce, which already suffers from massive turnover and vacancy rates. Related : Advertisement The societal costs are immense. The experienced these symptoms at higher rates, said Gemima St. Louis, vice president for workforce initiatives and specialty training and clinical psychology professor at Williams James College in Newton. As the mental health crises that COVID-19 drew out persist, stakeholders worry the behavioral health workforce won't be able to meet this rising demand with culturally competent care. 'We have a workforce that is insufficient, a workforce that lacks the diversity that is represented in the communities that have the greatest needs for mental health services,' St. Louis said. Related : Advocates are introducing measures to tackle the representation gap at its root. Clinicians working in underserved communities can have some of their student debt covered through The people working to diversify the behavioral health workforce are chipping away at a profession that has historically been for white and affluent individuals. A 2023 Advertisement One in 10 respondents in behavioral health leadership roles identified as non-Hispanic Black. Black respondents made up 9 percent of the survey's independently licensed clinicians, meaning they don't need supervision to provide treatment. Only 7.6 percent of behavioral health physicians — professionals with medical degrees — were Black. The lack of representation within the sector doesn't match the range of people needing these services, advocates say. A separate survey of insured residents across Massachusetts found that one in 10 non-Hispanic Black residents reported poor mental health in 2021, along with 15 percent of Hispanic residents. One barrier driving these disparities precedes any roadblocks Black clinicians are facing in their field: mental health care's taboo nature in their community. Black people 'might have a little bit more wealth and more opportunities, but we've never really had a chance to really process our struggles in this country,' said Nieisha Deed, founder of Recruitment into the sector can be happenstance, instead of something instilled from an early age. Larry Higginbottom, CEO of The Osiris Group clinic in Roxbury, stumbled across 'the mental health field' during a chance conversation in the late '80s with Omar Reid, a local pioneer of Black psychology and mental health. Advertisement It was a foreign concept, but '[Reed] planted a seed,' Higginbottom, now 71, said. For Melanie Robinson Findlay, owner of Upwards 'N' Onwards, an independent therapy practice in Hyde Park, the death of a best friend during high school propelled her into social work. By the time she pursued a doctorate, she had 18 years of clinical social work experience, completed a clerkship, and was even appointed to the state's Board of Registration of Social Workers. But this didn't seem like enough. She noticed her peers would find supervisors with ease. Meanwhile, 'I always felt I had to prove myself.' 'What was I missing that they have?' Robinson Findlay said. 'And when you control for all the things, there's only one thing that pops out.' Learning about the craft is only the first hurdle to entering the industry. It costs hundreds for Mental health counselors, clinical social workers, psychologists, and other professionals within the field must complete thousands of hours to qualify for a license, some of which have to be under direct supervision from another practitioner. Labissiere said the onus for supervision is placed on the aspiring clinician; they must find someone who is willing to sign off on their application and in turn, lose an employee that keeps their own practice afloat. 'These are gatekeeper positions,' Labissiere said. 'If you don't have an organization ... pushing you to become licensed, we get stuck.' Advertisement Wynn worries this mentality might choke off the next generation of clinicians of color, which is already a small group. 'People look at it as competition, but there's more than enough clients in need,' Wynn said. 'It's not a competition. It's a collaboration.' While navigating the many stressors of entering the workforce, many aspiring social workers aren't taught the financial literacy needed to start and sustain independent practices, said Malaka Mims, president of the Greater Boston Association of Black Social Workers. So many social workers are focused on passing the exam, she said, that they often say, 'I don't know how to be a business owner.' 'Social workers are trained to help others, but the field must also prioritize self care and equip social workers to care for ourselves,' Mims said. For Robinson Findlay, of Upwards 'N' Onwards, running her own practice has been a longtime dream, but it comes with its own challenges. She has scaled her fees down to accommodate low-income clients, and says she is owed thousands in private insurance reimbursements. She makes up with consulting, lecturing, and a postdoctoral fellowship. Robinson Findlay can barely afford to do this, but she can't refuse a client's request. 'Even if I say no to one, that's too many.' This story was produced by the Globe's team, which covers the racial wealth gap in Greater Boston. You can sign up for the newsletter . Tiana Woodard can be reached at